Ought To & Can (A San Francisco Fable)

Part II: Can--Chapter 12

"You're too picky. Who do you think you are, anyway?"

No one has actually used those exact words to Sabrina when the subject of marriage has come up, but she knows that's what they're thinking. Her father, her sisters, May. Strangers on the street, probably.

But you have to start picking before you can be accused of being picky. She wasn't ready to do that yet. Isn't it prudent to wait until you're ready before you get married?

Half the time she pondered whether she should just run off with the first unmarried man she saw at Kol B'Yachad and get hitched. Then they'd stop bugging her, and it would eliminate the possibility of the same people trying to micromanage her wedding.

She decided to shun thoughts of serious love, but ran into some difficulty, since Sabrina is a deeply romantic person. She'd fallen in love with every third man she met in Israel, but those men also happened to be the ones already attached, or out of her league.

By the time she started working at Nordstrom, she hadn't planned on the same thing happening, but it did. She would fall in love with more male customers than not. But she was mature enough now that she was aware that nothing would ever come of these microcrushes.

But they were still fun and satisfying to engage in.

It was split fairly evenly between the actual customers she helped, customers the other women helped, and customers who just walked by.

And when it wasn't obvious, she'd try to sneak a peek at their left hand.

And it always seemed to be wearing a ring.

The little notebook that she'd used for training had long since become a log of men she'd briefly fallen for.

10/11—40s, a little bit of grey, corduroy jacket

10/11—25? Black. Tall.

10/12—30s. Beard. Probably gay but cute

10/14—about my age. Marriage and pushing a stroller. Looked so manly.

"What are you writing, Ms. Himmelschein?" enquired Ms. Pieper.

"Just some perfume notes."

"Just keep that to a minimum. Professionals don't use cheat sheets."

###

Escuela.

That was the antiseptic, modern condo building standing on the old Sloat-Bushnell site on Gutierrez Street.

Escuela.

Luxury living in one of San Francisco's hippest neighborhoods. Well-appointed. Charming. Breathtaking views.

One thing: even an outsider like Neil knew that Noe Valley wasn't really "hip". Another thing: you just tear down a school, replace it with an eyesore, then the only way you honor the memory of the school is by calling the complex the Spanish word for school?

Just tacky all the way around.

Neil had taken a slight detour from his commute home to confirm what Sabrina told him about Sloat-Bushnell. Of course, his regular commute wasn't exactly direct either: everyday he drove past the Himmelschein house.

It wasn't a pleasant drive. He had to drive slow and look closely for jaywalking tourists and photo-snappers. He wasn't really even sure why he was insisting on going there. Sabrina wasn't at the house anymore. But it seemed to be something about experiencing the old magic again.