Beyond the end

Back to L.A.

"Madam, do you need a taxi?"
"Yes, thank you, my luggage is there."
The taxi driver was petrified in front of what seemed like a full-blown move. Suitcases, duffel bags, trunks, packages of all sizes. The sidewalk was literally invaded by containers of all shapes and sizes.
"Maybe I'd better ask my cousin Miguel for help."
"Yes, call Miguel and hurry up that it's a suffocating heat."
Valerie was rather rude to that man, but she had become uninhabited to California temperatures and the heat made her particularly nervous. To tell the truth, the nervousness had taken hold of her for several weeks. Since her boss had decided, this time without asking her, to transfer her back to the Los Angeles gallery, since in recent years he had seen his turnover fall again, until he reached an all-time low. Valerie had managed to avoid its collapse the first time; Valerie would be able to do it again. And patience if she had to question her life, her balance, her relationships again. Well, those always had a fairly short life, she had been reminded not without malice by Louis.
"How do you allow yourself to judge me? My relationships and my life are none of your business."
"You're probably right," Louis, now lacking in patience for the whims of that spoiled little girl, as she now apostrophied when she talked about her with friends and colleagues "I have to weigh on my business and if you want to be a part of it, go home, pack your weapons and luggage and go back to Los Angeles, otherwise
Valerie had smiled, picked up the bag and headed towards the office door, stopping at the threshold. She had turned again smiling, in a mocking way "I'll do it and you'll send me everything home, you know the address pretty well". And she had come out of the gallery and that job.
In the end, she had returned to Los Angeles anyway. She had gotten tired of New York, in which she had initially found her size. She didn't have the slightest intention of returning to Buffalo to face the ghosts of all time. She had to start all over again, once again. You might as well do it in a city where she was not alone at all and a helping hand could certainly find her. The Walsh twins, now stable in Beverly Hills, continued to Keep in touch with them regularly, since the last time. The others a little less, but she was sure they would welcome her. Pedro and Miguel, showed up in front of that beautiful woman "Madam, are we ready, where do we take you?"
"Let's go where I left off, to the Hilton please."
Greenwich
Claire arrived at the observatory like every morning by bicycle, wrapped in a raincoat that protected her from the intermittent rain, which at certain times of the year never gave respite. She walked in and wiped her glasses; when she put them down she was greeted by a banner of her colleagues "Arrivederci Claire", bottles were uncorked and caps jumped that touched the ceiling. Moved, Claire began to hug her colleagues one by one, on what was the last day of work in England. Old Arnold, now retired, had retired a couple of years ago in Los Angeles; the ailments were beginning to make themselves felt and surely having his daughter close, rather than on the other side of the globe, would comfort him, both psychologically and physically. And so Claire, who had finished her period of work at the Greenwich Observatory, rather than returning to France, had applied for employment at the LA observatory and, given her resume, had no difficulty in getting hired. Her father, her only family, had always had priority in her choices; and he continued to have it, despite Claire still being a mature woman with a successful career. Such a success, she had thought without false modesty, that any door would open wide to a simple request. And until now the facts had proved her right.
"So you get home," Melanie, a colleague who had misunderstood all those years, had asked her rhetorically.
"I guess you're heartbroken."
"Don't be prejudiced, I'm sorry to lose a valid element as you are."
"I don't drink this one; this yes" Claire handed the flute to the other woman, offering a smile of circumstance.
"What are you going to find in Los Angeles?"
"First of all, my father; he has been back there for a couple of years, He is now old and he is alone"
"So what?"
"And then we'll see"
"I don't drink this one; you left your boyfriend on British soil without blinking."
"I don't believe in long-distance relationships, I never believed it."
"As far as I know, you didn't show any sign of displeasure in giving it up, while he was plunged into copious tears" he sipped some champagne without taking his gaze off Claire "was a very British farewell. I bet instead that you have the replacement ready in LA."
"what are you talking about? The only replacement that interests me right now is my glass, empty for more than 30 seconds. Lovable conversation, but let me," Claire walked away from Melanie, who had actually caught the mark. Since she had returned from the California trip, she hadn't stopped thinking about Steve. She had found him more mature, perhaps paternity had made him grow. In fact, for sure. Contrary to the first time, distancing yourself from him had not been easy or quick at all. And in fact, she hadn't succeeded. She wrote to him regularly. When she felt a little down, when the loneliness in the rainy climate of the English countryside became hard to bear. He answered her regularly. Both tried not to put their problems at the center of the emails, making the other and those telematic conversations a sort of happy island, in which they could take refuge whenever they felt the need. They had never heard each other on the phone; perhaps neither would have held up the other's voice without the urgent need to take a plane to get together again. And when Claire had made the decision to return to LA she hadn't informed Steve; she didn't know why. And now it was too late to do it, she preferred to show up at his door and see the reaction. He had not mentioned, in all those months, another couple relationship; this comforted her, even if it did not give her any certainty. The only thing she was sure of was the feeling she still felt for that man: it made her feel good, it made her happy.
But now it was better to devote herself to the greeting for that world, which was not hers but in which she had still adapted quite well. She took a little conversation with everyone, while alcohol relaxed her and loosened her inhibitory brakes. Until she began to tell the now ex-colleagues "Yes, I go back to LA for two men, one is old, the other is young and vigorous," and down to laugh. The next day she would definitely have regretted it.