Purple Flowers, Part Two
Shannon the Explorer is back and ready for a hike. But first, food
Read Part One above to learn why Shannon moved across the country alone…kind of.
*****
The afternoon sun was brighter than Shannon expected. The pockmarked street was littered with puddles, but the sky was nearly cloudless. A lone tree branch bisected the cracked sidewalk, which was adorned with graffiti hearts.
Shannon thought the hearts looked like butts.
"Coming through!" A middle-aged woman in an oversize polo and khakis barreled past her. "Sorry, I think I left my oven on!"
"It's okay," Shannon said, but the woman was already halfway down the street.
Wandering uphill, huffing slightly, Shannon saw more tree branches and charming little falling apart houses. She was trying to decide whether she found this neighborhood cute or sad when she reached what appeared to be a restaurant nestled like a baby bird between the brightly painted homes.
The worn sign in the window read:
BEST TACOS THIS SIDE OF LA
Half price tacos on Taco Tuesday!!!
Her stomach grumbled audibly. She didn’t think. She just opened the door.
The interior was slick and modern and not at all falling apart. It was bathed in neon light and nearly empty. Shannon headed over to the server, whose name tag read PINKY. “Hi. I’m here for the Taco Tuesday special?”
The androgynous server had six earrings poking out of one ear. Shannon doubted her own ears would accommodate that many piercings. “Taco Tuesday specials are Tuesday only,” the server boomed.
“Okay,” Shannon said. “So?”
“So today’s Wednesday.” The goth-lite server also sported a broad chest and beefy arms. Maybe Pinky was more of a bouncer than a server.
“Oh. I…forgot. Sorry.”
“It is happy hour though.”
The digital clock behind Pinky’s head flashed 3:09. “Really?”
“Really. So you get a free tequila shot with your beer.”
Shannon shrugged. “Why not? Happy Wednesday.”
Shannon downed her shot and picked at the burnt tortilla chips on the table while she waited for her fish tacos. It occurred to her that she had never eaten or really even thought about tacos. One notable exception was the musty-smelling Taco Bell bag someone handed her once at a high school newspaper staff party. She ended up giving it away to a photography nerd in a fuzzy hoodie with cat ears.
“Here ya go, baby,” said a less imposing server in a black beret. “Enjoy.”
Shannon could tell these tacos were a cut above the Taco Bell variety. They featured avocado slices and fresh cilantro. The fried fish was crunchy on the outside, tender on the inside. “What kind of fish is this?” she asked around a big bite when the server came back to check on her. “Tilapia?”
“Sure, yeah. It’s tilapia.”
“It’s good.”
“Good! You want another drink?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Just the check please.”
Moderately satisfied, Shannon drained the rest of her beer and headed back out to the street. According to her phone, it was 3:57.
What was she supposed to do now?
She knew she should pick up some bread and peanut butter for when she inevitably got hungry again in two hours, but the grocery store was a dull and predictable place. Her westward adventure was supposed to be about mind expansion and self-actualization. Exploration.
Time to explore, damn it.
The endearingly dilapidated houses eventually gave way to nicer ones, then straight up mansions. Some were protected by ornate gates. They might as well have been moats. Shannon felt like she was being watched. Security cameras, gardeners, dog walkers: eyes everywhere.
She trekked on before reaching Griffith Park, which Mandy and her dad and several online lists had promised was one of the top free destinations in LA. A bear statue guarded the entrance, warding off would-be litterers and smokers and hooligans of all stripes. It wasn’t an especially threatening bear though. Shannon thought it looked like it was dancing.
Wasn’t this where that famous planetarium was? Griffith Observatory, that was it. She peered up through the abundant leaves to the hills above, catching a glimpse of some sweaty, barely clothed hikers glistening in the late afternoon sun. The observatory was up there somewhere, closer than the stars but still pretty damn far.
So that was out for today. She was already thirsty and also had to pee. Why hadn’t she brought a water bottle? Stupid. She knew she should always have water with her. She seemed to get dehydrated faster than other people.
She wondered why that was.
While pondering this she happened to look down and notice a ball of white fluff by her feet. It appeared to be sniffing her shoes.
“That’s Boo,” a woman dressed inexplicably in a purple parka and cowboy boots explained. The woman’s hand was attached to a leash, which was attached to the white fluff ball.
“What a nice dog,” Shannon said. She had always hated dogs. Too much slobber.
“Dog?” The parka-clad woman laughed. “Boo’s a fourteen-year-old white Persian cat! See?”
The fluff ball looked up, revealing feline features. Assessing. Judging.
Shannon didn’t much care for cats either.
“I’ve never seen a cat on a leash before,” Shannon said. “He must be very healthy.”
“I have to get my ten thousand steps in,” the woman explained. “Boo’s here for the trees. He just loves nature.”
Boo stared unblinkingly. He didn’t appear to love much of anything.
“So cute!” Shannon stepped around the judgmental cat, giving it a wide berth. “Anyway. Have a good day!”
She traipsed across a grassy expanse in the direction of a trail. It was lined with rustic benches and smelled of pond water. A stream babbled incoherently. The path was strewn with half-eaten energy bars and crushed beer cans.
“There’s gotta be a public bathroom somewhere,” she mumbled to herself. There was no one else around to mumble to except for some lowing frogs down in the stream. “Parks always have restrooms.”
Her instincts turned out to be spot on. The dense greenery gave way to blue sky, dry shrubland, and a playground.
Beyond the playground, Paradise: a concrete cube of a restroom. Not very glamorous, but it would do.
Gangly kids climbed on the jungle gym and dogs of different breeds harmonized while she hurried past.
“Who’s that lady?” one child of about six asked his dad, who was wearing both a Lakers jersey and a Dodgers cap. “She looks weird!”
Shannon hated being called a lady. Like she was some old bag and not a girl anymore. When she worked at her dad’s local library back in New York, mostly just shelving books and keeping her head down, kids would always say stuff like that. “Mommy, ask the lady if she has any Captain Underpants!” Or something.
“I’m not a real librarian,” she always said. “I just work here. You’ll have better luck using the computer or asking at the front desk.”
“Librarians work in libraries,” one snot-nosed kid pointed out once. “Librarians and book people. Why are you here if you’re not one?”
“I’m here for the money,” she shrugged. “Be happy you don’t have to worry about that yet.”
By then she was already saving up for her escape. But her account wasn’t quite where she wanted it when the shit hit the fan.
Speaking of shit, there was a lot of it in the bathroom. But Shannon tried her best not to interact with any.
On her way out, she thought she heard a peal of thunder. She looked up, her view unobstructed by leaves now. But the sky was entirely clear.
She looked straight ahead. She was face to face with her father.
“Shannon, honey,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come here alone. It’s not safe. You really should have just done what I asked.”
She tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes were misty and gray. He was wearing his reading glasses for some reason.
“What you asked?” Shannon spat. “Try demanded.”
He shook his head. He seemed more wrinkled than he had a few days ago. Droopier. He suddenly reminded his daughter of a bloodhound. “I was trying to scare you because I was scared for you. I thought if I threatened to kick you out you would get it together.”
She laughed theatrically. She wasn’t sure whether she was justified or just being dramatic. She never knew anymore. “Well you miscalculated. Bigtime.”
Wait. Wasn’t he three thousand miles away? How was he here right now?
In the distance, lightning flashed, but the sky was still cloudless. Shannon’s dad disappeared with a pained expression on his face. Like the lightning struck him and took him…somewhere else.
“Hey Lady,” the kid from earlier called. “You wanna do some jumping jacks?”
That was it. Budget be damned. She was getting an Uber.
*****
To be continued. Check back soon to find out why middle-aged straight edge gay metal guys make the best bartenders.