The trouble with drowning

Kat nearly laughed at her thought, it was so positively lecherous. For a split-second she wondered if this meant she was, in fact, a lesbian after all. Never mind that she’d never had such a thought before in her entire life.

“That’s me,” the woman beamed, pointing to the sign in Kat’s hands. Kat held up a flimsy, handmade placard reading EDEN HART. The sign was so amateurish it was embarrassing.

“I’m Kat. I’ll be your driver today. Your own Uber extraordinaire,” she cracked, and instantly regretted the line—it was something an aunt would say to prove to her niece she was, in fact, pretty darn cool. Thankfully, Eden laughed, her smile so white it practically twinkled with a little star. Meanwhile, Kat was just glad she’d woken up in time to brush her teeth at all. “Alright then!” Eden said cheerfully. “So do you work at the Book Stop?”

“I do, yeah. I’m an assistant manager, actually. I started working there a few years ago when I moved to the area.”

“Well, I’m excited to check out Tucson. I’ve heard great things.”
“I would temper those expectations.”
Eden grinned and pushed voluminous waves out of her face—it was so much hair to

contend with, an absolute beast of honeyed magic. Self-consciously, Kat brushed her own locks behind her ears. She had deep, dark hair that was cut simple and practical—let’s be honest, it was practically Amish—but Kat wasn’t really in a position to invest in monthly

salon treatments. Now she desperately wished her hair skills transcended the ponytail. She liked to think she was above such trivialities, but looking at Eden Hart, Kat realized most decisively she was not.

“Do you have luggage?”
Eden pointed to her light blue Away carry-on. “I pack lightly.”
“Even for a book reading?”
“It’s just two days, and it is Tucson. Bulky sweaters need not apply.”
Kat smiled and started for the airport exit; Eden followed. “I have to apologize now

for my car. It’s not exactly a luxury town car.”
“Thank god. I actually sort of hate being driven in them. Like I’m a Kardashian or

something terrible like that.”
“Oh, you’ll be ‘one of the normal people’ with me, alright.”
They walked outside into the unforgiving sunlight and punishing heat. “Whoa! Hello,

Tucson!” Eden fumbled for her sunglasses tucked into her Chloé purse. They were oversized, almost clunky, and a weird lime green color but still somehow endlessly fashionable.

“You get used to the heat.”

“I find that hard to believe. But . . . it’s sort of nice, actually. The never-ending chill and rain in Seattle don’t exactly do wonders for someone on anti-anxiety meds.”

Kat stopped. This dewy fawn needed medication? Noting her pause, Eden explained, “Look, I believe in transparency. I assume you’ve read my book? I mean, it is called Blue.”

Kat’s face turned crimson, and her brow furrowed in self-doubt. “I did! And I loved it! Loved. I mean, I’m not a, you know, usual children’s book . . . aficionado. But yours . . . was amazing. And the illustrations. Just . . . wow. It’s no wonder you won the Caldecott.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m sorry. About your fiancé, I mean.” Kat popped the trunk of her stupid Honda with its dumb dings and scrapes. Eden set the luggage inside and closed the trunk.

“Thanks. It hasn’t been easy. Which is putting it mildly. But art helps.”
“Always.”
Eden crawled into the front seat, recoiling from the molten, sticky heat. “Please tell

me you have A/C,” she pleaded. “I’m not a monster.”

Eden let out a robust chuckle and flashed another blinding smile, but this time Kat wasn’t thinking about her own flaws. Instead, she was flattered and basked in Eden’s brief attention.

As they exited the airport and pulled onto the freeway, Eden looked out the window. Kat forced herself not to stare at her profile. That nose! It was the sort of nose that you’d take a picture of into the plastic surgeon’s office and say, “I want to look like that.” Without thinking, Kat touched her nose, feeling the slight bump across the bridge. For a moment, she considered asking Eden if she’d had work done.

“What brought you to Tucson?” Eden asked, thankfully preventing Kat from making an even bigger embarrassment of herself.

“Oh, well, I’m a writer, too. Yeah. I just got my MFA from U. of A. On scholarship.” “Nice. Good for you! Great writing program, right?”

“One of the best. I’m also working on my memoir now.”

Eden nodded, her face tilted once more toward the window, watching the desert pass by. “I see why people find it inspiring here. It’s so . . . stark. And beautiful at the same time.”

“I like it. Tucson is its own little strange creature of a town. And you’re just gonna love Hotel Congress. It’s super cool. Vintage and charming, good music scene and a fun bar.”

“I love a fun bar.” Eden said, catching sight of herself in the side-view mirror and then frowned. “Speaking of bars—ha ha!—do you know of a nearby Dry Bar?”

Kat shook her head slowly from side to side, uncertain. God, how she wished she knew what a Dry Bar even was.

“You know, a hair salon? Just for a blowout. It’s sort of indulgent and stupid—I mean, I doubt Joan Didion required this—but I try to get one before each reading.”

“Of course! Duh! Well . . . I’m not sure, actually. Concierge will be able to help, though.” Kat watched Eden loft her billowing blonde hair atop her head and nearly swooned. “But . . . your hair looks so nice. You know. Now.”

Eden released her hands, her hair tumbling like a Disney princess, spilling onto her shoulders. “No, it’s too much. Frizzy and crazy.”

“It’s beautiful!” Kat took a shallow breath, realizing the admission was too eager. She gripped the spongy steering wheel tight.

“You know how it goes, Kat,” Eden said, digging into her purse for a tin of mints, pulling one out and closing the box with precision. “People always want what they can’t have.” She popped the tiny mint into her perfect mouth and stared out the window once more.