Page 105 of Try Easy

A Fresh Start

Seattle,Washington

March 12

Lou

Lou trudgedup the four flights of stairs, cursing the fact that her building didn’t have an elevator. She was tired. Every step felt like climbing a mountain. She had been feeling a little better that morning. She’d woken up earlier than usual, showered, and gotten dressed in normal clothes, and she hadn’t even thought about Keoni until she was brushing her teeth. It was an improvement from dreaming of him and waking up with him in her head.

Lou had been feeling pretty proud of herself for getting outside and walking to the market. She’d bought fruit, and milk, and a loaf of fresh crusty bread. She hadn’t been hungry in days, but the bread had smelled delicious and she was actually looking forward to eating it.

She finally made it to her door and heard the phone ringing as she fit the key in the lock. Lou raced inside and grabbed the phone off the wall before it stopped ringing.

Maybe it was Keoni. Maybe he had finally called. Every time the phone rang, Lou had the same hope, and every time, she was disappointed.

“Hello?” she asked breathlessly, both from anticipation that it was Keoni and running through the apartment to the phone.

“May I speak with Lou Hunter?” asked a woman’s voice.

Lou’s heart sank, and the hope that had been flapping its wings crash landed. “This is Lou,” she said.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then the woman spoke again. “This is Lou Hunter, the photographer?”

Lou froze, and the grocery bag she’d been holding slipped to the floor. She nodded and then realized that the woman on the other end of the line couldn’t see her. She cleared her throat, and said, “This is Lou Hunter, the photographer.”

It was the first time the words had come out of her mouth, and she felt the smile that accompanied them cross her face.

“You’re not a man?” the woman asked.

“No,” Lou said, some of the pleasure disappearing from her voice. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” said the woman. “Hold one moment, please.”

The line went silent. Lou cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder and bent down to retrieve her dropped groceries, hoping nothing had been ruined.

A moment later, a man’s voice came over the line. “Hello?” he asked.

“Hello,” Lou said.

“This is Lou Hunter, the photographer?”

“Yes, it is.” Lou thought they had already established that, but she played along. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“This is Terry Orlandi calling from Los Angeles. I’m an editor at Surfing Magazine. I’m calling about your submission.”

“My what?”

“This is Lou Hunter, the photographer, right?”

“Is this some kind of prank?” Lou asked, bewildered. “I didn’t submit anything to you.”

“Oh?” Mr. Orlandi said, clearly caught off guard. “Well, it must be a mistake. My apologies.”

“Wait,” Lou said before he could hang up. She hadn’t submitted one of her pictures, but perhaps someone else had. “What do you want with the picture?”

“I want to buy it,” he said.

Lou’s knees went weak, and she leaned against the counter for support. She tried to speak, but words didn’t come out. She must have made some sort of noise because Mr. Orlandi spoke up again.

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