oh, anna [-hs]

she

"They wanted a fresh face. I had a professor with connections."

"Holy fuck."

"You keep saying that," she laughs. "Why don't you watch it?"

I take a deep breath. My hands are shaking for her. "This is insane."

"I know," she reassures me. "It's okay. Just watch it."

"This is insane," I mutter again and mute the phone call, clicking the video.

The Louvre. The fucking Louvre. I feel my eyes starting to water a little. It's so good. It's better than I could have ever imagined. She filmed fucking Apeshit. I unmute myself and sigh heavily.

"Did you watch it?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Well?" There's a hesitation to her voice. She's nervous. I don't understand how she could be. "What did you think?"

"Quinn, it's so good. It's so powerful. I can't--I," I sigh again and stare at the laptop screen. "This is it."

She hesitates. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, welcome to the rest of your life. This is it, this was your big break. You did it, you made it."

"I see," I can hear her sucking air in between her teeth. "Well in that case, maybe it's time to go out and splurge a little. Want to go to the bookstore with me? See if we can find your favorite book?"

I look across the room to the hallway where my bedroom lies. "I can do you one better."

We meet at a park, in front of a tall pine tree with bare, dying branches. She approaches grinning, blue jeans, bright red boots, layered white and gray graphic shirts, and big blue earrings. I flick my sunglasses up from my eyes and smile back at her.

"Hey," she calls shyly at me and adjusts her bag on her shoulder.

"Good morning, Ms. Bellini," I tease. She scratches the back of her neck. "How's it feel to be a successful, professional music video director."

"It feels pretty good," she smiles gently, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Now where's this book?"

I pull it out of my bag and hand it lovingly to her. My copy of Norweigan Wood, filled with notations, underlined paragraphs, coffee stains, and tears. She takes it and flips quickly through the pages, smiling and all the annotations she notices.

"Perfect," she grins ear to ear. "I love it when people mark up stories."

"I felt like I didn't have a choice," I shrug and watch her slide the book into her own bag.