Goodbye for now, Janice thought. She sneezed her September allergy to San Francisco's changing weather as she closed the door of her '97 Corolla and headed down Mission toward the Bay Bridge. God, how she hoped her Corolla would make it all the way cross country. She had no idea whether Lenny would even open the door when she drove into their Great Neck driveway, but she had to at least try. The two years working for Google had been great, but they'd taken a toll on her long-distance marriage. When Lenny told her three weeks ago he wanted a divorce, she'd come this close to saying fuck you you can have your divorce I'm staying with Google in San Francisco what's life with you like anyway but serving your needs and your fucking family's needs goodbye for now and for ever. Two days after that cellphone exchange while she barreled down the 101 to Mountain View in her coughing Corolla, the voice of reason came back to her. No, she didn't want to ask herself years from now, what if? What if they'd tried to work it out? She had to go back, even if breaking up was the end result. She had to go back.
How many miles would it be, she thought. She'd stop in Salt Lake to see Larry, her high school sweetheart. He'd married a Mormon who'd broken with tradition by going to Columbia. That's where they'd met and she'd taken him to Salt Lake where they had two kids and got a divorce. He stayed in Salt Lake and she went to Phoenix. Janice hoped Larry wouldn't want to rekindle anything; things were complicated enough with Lenny. Then she'd visit her cousin Winifred in Denver. She adored Winifred -- even better than her own sisters -- because she didn't judge her for anything. Winifred would give her good advice about Lenny and marriage. She'd been married for more than thirty years. She was certainly the expert. And then on to St. Louis, Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia. Janice loved the midwest -- loved the flatness of it, loved being able to see for miles and miles, like the California coastline.
She enjoyed her sputtering Corolla drives better than anything in California -- better than the marijuana parties on Valencia, the No on 8 rallies, the leather men at Folsom, the foggy walks across the Golden Gate Bridge. In truth, those drives were more romantic to her than even her Florence honeymoon had been. She'd also found the Writing Salon in San Francisco -- oh, how she'd miss Pamela's humor workshops, Karen's novel classes, Chris's exploring your writer's voice, and even though she could continue the daily rite round robin from anywhere in the world, she'd miss seeing Jane's happy, smiling face at the bookend sessions -- because no amount of e-mail could replace the personal connection of face to face. But it sure made for a nice way to stay alive and part of the experience that she'd had. All by herself. In California. And in San Francisco especially.
No toll for the Bay Bridge in the eastbound direction. As she came down the final span before touching down in Oakland, Janice looked to the left. Still far from completed. She wondered when they'd finish the new bridge. Probably not for three or four more years. Fools, all of them -- didn't they realize that the old bridge could be made stronger? San Francisco didn't need a new bridge. It knew how to connect to anywhere in the world, and it had been doing it better than any other city since the Gold Rush of '49. No matter whether Janice stayed in Great Neck with Lenny, whether she got a divorce and moved into Manhattan, down to her Bubby's Boca Raton, Florida condo, she'd feel connected to San Francisco. And thank God for the round robin, because she could do that for the rest of her life and feel connected to her writer friends, to the people who, like her, challenged themselves every day.
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