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By Root 890 0

at which point its details would simply shrink. Her life shrank even when she fought to hold it still—clinging to a boy named Daniel in his car during a school dance, watery music faintly audible from the gym as they lay across his front seat, fog crystallized like sugar on the windshield. She’d liked him all year. Daniel’s breath on her neck, ribs splayed beneath her like a fan, and suddenly a different world seemed to offer itself to Phoebe, bones and flesh, all she wanted was this—Yes, she thought, this was enough—but already it was starting to slip, she was slipping from Daniel even as she clung to him, something she needed to remember like distant footsteps in the corners of her mind. “Hey, you still there?” he asked, but Phoebe wasn’t, could barely make out Daniel’s startled face as she drew away, full of anger, feeling as if someone had robbed her.

Afterward, as always, Phoebe was relieved she had escaped—even when Daniel avoided her eyes in the halls, for he was nothing, all of this was nothing. She had to resist. If Phoebe lost herself in her own small life, it would be like dying.

At six-thirty Phoebe and Patrick hung up their aprons and left Milk and Honey together. The sun was low. Outside the door they paused. The street was empty, caught in the pause between day and night.

“Thanks for the help,” he said.

“You did great.”

“I don’t know. The first day’s always a bitch.”

“No, you did.”

They stood in silence. Phoebe felt depressed, anticipating the empty night ahead. Her mother was busy.

“I’ve got a car,” Patrick said. “You need a ride someplace?”

“No, thanks,” she said, then wondered why she had. It would be better than taking the bus. But Patrick had already turned.

“Okay. See you.”

Phoebe was going the same direction, but felt stupid following Patrick when they’d just said good-bye. She lingered outside Milk and Honey, watching the night staff set up. When Patrick was out of sight, she headed for the bus stop at Haight and Masonic. There was a party on Ocean Beach that night, but those parties were always the same, surf toppling in, a wavering line of bonfires strung across miles of cold sand. Phoebe stopped at a pay phone and fished through her tip money for a dime. She dialed her mother’s office.

“Sweetheart,” her mother said, “how was work?”

“It went fast. Mom, I can’t remember,” Phoebe lied. “Are you busy tonight?”

“I am, unfortunately,” her mother said, lowering her voice. “We’ve got a director in from Germany.”

“Does it go late?”

“No, just cocktails, although I don’t know, we may go on to dinner. Why, are you at loose ends?”

“Not really. There’s a party.”

“Well, that might be fun. Why not go?”

Phoebe said nothing, remembering her mother’s worries about her.

“Well, you’re welcome to join us,” her mother said. “Would you like to?”

Phoebe declined. An evening with Jack Lamont she could do without. Besides, it was probably dressy.

“All right then, I’ll see you later on. If I’m back early, we can watch some TV. Oh, but you’re busy.”

“But I might be home though. Kojak’s on.”

Her mother paused. “Sweetheart, is something wrong? Your voice sounds funny.”

“I’m outside.”

“Okay. Well, have fun at your party. And please be careful—promise you’ll call a taxi home. I’ll reimburse you.”

“But Mom?”

“Yes?”

“How late will you be back? Maybe I won’t go.”

“I’m not sure, honey. I wish I could tell you, but I just don’t know.”

Phoebe could think of nothing else to say. “Okay,” she said.

“Bye-bye. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye.”

Phoebe continued slowly toward Masonic. Abruptly she stopped, turned back around and headed for the bus downtown, to her mother’s office. She wanted to see her. Just see her, just for a minute, then she would go home.

The bus came quickly, floating on its electrical wires. From the crest of each hill Phoebe glimpsed the East Bay blinking across the water. Torpid planes floated overhead.

She got off downtown. The air was linty, opaque. Her mother had warned her repeatedly that cars crashed more often at dusk than at any other time, and Phoebe crossed the streets with