December 24th [COMPLETED]

18. Dinner with Vivian

George's whole life seemed to be spread out in front of her, covering every inch of what used to be a nicely decorated living room. Now, there was on equipment, equipment, oh, and look! More equipment!

Every single thing George had been storing in that big empty house on the hill that the label owned and let her use was laid out in front of her. She had gotten it into her brain that the only way she could survive this period of such extreme uncertainty was to keep working, keep moving. But she didn't have a project, and she was walking the line of not having a job either. The only thing left for her to do was organize.

And so that was what she was determined to do. The large black traveling boxes came out, one at a time, emptied out on the floor but now there were no more boxes to go through, not even a measly cardboard box. Everything around her was equipment.

It felt like a metaphor that George just couldn't understand. Something to do with the state of her career maybe, or a poignant critique of the life she had built for herself? Either way, George was too tired to figure out what it meant. All she could think of was the fact that there was equipment surrounding her on all sides. Equipment and only equipment.

Where were her clothes? She was sure she had stored some stuff here. Where were the extra shoes that didn't work well to travel in? Where were her mementos, tokens of trips taken, security passes from different tours, anything other than equipment that proved she was a human being with feelings and memories instead of a work robot? There wasn't one single thing.

George's foot had fallen asleep, woken back up, and then fallen asleep again by the time Vivian called. From her spot outside the island of equipment, Sydney held George's phone out to George so she could see who was calling. George shook her head, the only answer Sydney needed to answer Vivian's call and leave the room, leaving George to her island of despair and failed career.

"Dinner at Vivian's," Sydney said, returning from the kitchen and her phone call. "Mandatory."

George let out a long huff of air that levitated the long strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail hours ago.

"Want me to come with you?" Sydney asked when George didn't make a move to extract herself from the mass of chords, wires, and keyboards.

"No," George said, trying to find a place to put her hand so she could try and stand up. It took a minute and some rearranging of the parts nearest her but she did it and found her feet beneath her. Now to find a way out.

"No," George said, looking at the mess around her. "Stay here and keep at this. It needs to be done and I think I've done the best I can for today."

George caught a hint of relief in Sydney's stony gaze that she fully understood. She would have preferred to stay at the house and figure out a way to organize the mess she had made instead of venturing to Vivian's to have dinner, too.

"Keys are on the counter," Sydney said, taking the spot George had just vacated.

"Got it."

George grabbed her keys and jacket and paused by the door to slip on the only pair of shoes she had in the house, apparently. She left Sydney to her work and headed for Vivian's.

It felt nice, being in the driver's seat, being in control of the wheel, the pedal, feeling the air rush through her hair as she sped down the quiet country lanes towards the overpass. With the top down and her hands on the wheel, George could feel a hint of herself returning, if even just for a little bit, a small sense of control amidst the sea of chaos that was her life at the moment.

The sun was setting on the horizon as George drove toward the ocean. It was a shorter drive to Vivian's than it was to downtown as the mountain range that blocked Malibu off from the rest of the county was the same range of mountains George's current place of storage was built onto.