August 18, 1996
Martha passed an open door on her right and caught a glimpse of a girl laughing as she unpacked clothes into a dresser. Another on her left revealed a mother and daughter in a tearful embrace. Each room she passed, whether happy or sad, seemed to possess a common energy unfamiliar to Martha – a mixture of hope, anxiety, freedom, and possibility.
"304, 306... Getting close," Steven said from behind as if she didn't know how to count.
They passed the shared bathroom on their left. Martha locked eyes with a girl washing her hands who smiled anxiously. Finally, they reached 310, Martha's room, the door of which was open.
Martha knocked and peeked inside. "Hello?"
Cypress Hill played as a girl stood on one of the beds and pressed a No Doubt poster against the wall. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and curly. She wore a black waistcoat over jean shorts. "Oh hey," she said, looking over her shoulder. She hopped down, lowered the volume on her stereo, and walked to Martha. "You're Martha Beckett?"
"Yeah. And you're Rosalina Perez?"
"Yeah, but-"
"You were great in White Men Can't Jump, by the way," Steven quipped from the doorway.
"...most people call me Lina."
"Dad!" Martha snapped.
"It's okay," Lina said. "Sounds like some shit my dad would say. But yo, since I got here first, I figured I'd get first pick so I took the window. You cool?"
"Yeah, totally," Martha said. "I'm... down with the shade."
"'Down with the shade.'" Lina said with a smile. "That shit's funny."
But for the window, the room was symmetrical. Identical dressers separated identical beds. At the foot of each and against the wall were desks and, beyond them, free standing closets.
Steven set down the Army duffle bag of Martha's clothes on her side of the room and James a storage chest beside it. James said to Steven, "Been saving that one the whole way here?"
Steven sighed. "I thought it was funny. One of these days, I'll learn to keep quiet."
"Yo, so you're from Illinois?" Lina asked Martha.
"Yeah, but I grew up in Pasadena."
"No shit? Yo, I'm from Arcadia."
Everything about Lina, from the fashion to the music to the drawn-out vowels of her East LA accent, felt wonderfully familiar to Martha. Everything, in fact, from the moment she stepped out of the airport felt familiar. As distinct as the Bay Area was from Los Angeles, it was still California and she was its repatriate.
"Yo, is that your brother?" Lina asked, aiming a smile at James.
"Uh, boyfriend," Martha said. "That's James. He's my boyfriend."
"No shit? Good job, yo."
"Nice to meet you, Lina," James said, stepping forward to shake her hand.
Lina turned back to Martha. "Yo, so I don't know if you saw the poster by the elevator, but we gotta meeting with the R.A. in the common area in like, fifteen minutes. Ima go there now, but I'll save you a spot. Cool?"
"Yeah, thanks," Martha said.
"Aiight. Peace-out." Lina smiled politely to James and Steven as she left the room.
YOU ARE READING
For Those Who Don't Believe in Love Songs
General FictionGROUNDHOG DAY mixed with SIXTEEN CANDLES and a splash of DOCTOR WHO. A boy forever reincarnated as himself meets his soulmate for the 200th time, but can she solve the puzzle and break the curse to make herself his last? ***** Martha Beckett's life...
