1 AM in Menlo Park
The cold bay air ran through the city, bounced off the buildings of downtown San Francisco on its way to Menlo Park, in powerful gusts that rolled in like ocean waves, making the trees move like dancers. Genevieve warmed her fingers with her breath as often as their heat was stolen by the cold. She stood in front of a 7-Eleven in a dinner dress, black heels in one hand, her phone in the other, and stared at Daniel’s name in her contacts list for a few moments until she forced a finger to touch the call button. She counted the rings until Daniel answered.
“Hello?”
“Daniel, It’s Genni. I’m at the 7-eleven on 5th. I could really use a ride.” Her voice faltered, unsure of the response.
“Genni?”
A second passed. Two. Three.
“Yeah... Sure,” he said with a trace of the anguish she remembered when they parted. He cleared his throat and told her, “Gimme about ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. It would be almost three years since the last time they spoke, three long years to realize she had made a mistake, to piece together the courage to get up from the table and simply walk away, ignoring the toppled candles, the spilled wine, the confused guests, and the disappointed look on her father’s face.
Genevieve smiled. “Okay,” she said and held her breath to stall the release of joyful tears as happy images of their future flashed through her mind, washing away the haunting memory of the day she left.
—
When Daniel arrived she hurried to the car, climbed in quickly and tossed her shoes onto the floor. They looked at one another for a moment then he smiled.
“Please tell me you didn’t rob the 7-eleven in your bare feet and an evening dress?”
Genevieve laughed under her breath and stars welled up in her eyes.