The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(7)

A lot of people at school complain about their summer jobs, but apart from the black tie, I was sort of okay with mine. It didn’t take a lot of effort to run stuff over a scanner. I also secretly enjoyed stacking groceries in bags because it was sort of like a puzzle, fitting the heavy stuff in the right place, and keeping the cold stuff together—a little like replacing all the plastic guts in my Visible Woman anatomy model: strangely satisfying.

Along with all that, the store always smelled like baked bread and fresh flowers, and the piped-in classical music fueled my Sophisticated Older Art Student fantasies. It could be worse.

After clocking in and counting my till, I headed out to my assigned register. The last person who used it had moved the rubber bands and pens around. As I put it all back into place, a dark-haired woman poked her head around a rack of imported candy.

“Good afternoon, Beatrix.”

Ms. Lopez is one of the store managers. She’s a single mom in her early thirties with an eleven-year-old daughter named Joy. She’s been my boss since I started working here last summer. As far as bosses go, she’s pretty reasonable and fair, and just plain nice—another reason I don’t mind this job.

“Damn … looks like we’re slammed up in here today,” I said.

“I can’t stop yawning,” Ms. Lopez admitted with a smile, crossing her arms over her apron. A small red-and-black pin glittered in the center of her tie, right below the knot. She had a thing for ladybugs and always wore the lucky insect somewhere—socks, sweater, pins. I got her a preserved ladybug encased in piece of Lucite for Christmas; she kept it on her desk in the office. “How did your secret meeting go?”

Ms. Lopez knew all about my art and wasn’t weirded out by the idea of my drawing dissected cadavers—another reason why we got along.

“Unfortunately, it was a huge bust.” I spilled most of the story but stopped when I got to the part about sneaking home on the Owl bus and meeting Jack. “So, anyway, I get another shot on Wednesday. Lucky for me, I’m not scheduled, so I don’t have to beg my boss to let me have the night off.”

“Lucky for you, your boss is cool, so you wouldn’t have had to beg too hard.”

True. “So, what’s going on around here?” I asked as I squatted to check my paper-bag supply. “Any good gossip?”

“We’re out of the on-sale salmon steaks.”

“That’s terrible gossip.”

She hmmed, trying to think of something juicier. “Oh! That gold graffiti vandal hit the Ninth Avenue Golden Gate Park entrance.”

My heartbeat lurched from bored to FIRE! “Wh-what?” I said, shooting up from behind the cash wrap.

“On the sidewalk. News crews were up there this morning when I was walking Beauty before work. The letters are about as tall as me and sideways stacked.” She ripped off a piece of register tape and scribbled a visual aid:

B

L

O

O

M

“Sideways stacked,” she said with a hand flourish, complete with perfect red nails that never seemed to chip.

Bloom. I was still in shock.

“It’s very pretty and feminine. Lots of curlicues and vines.”

“The Botanical Garden,” I realized. It was located just inside that particular park entrance.

“Yes, on the walkway leading to the gardens. Police say it’s the first time there’s been a direct connection between one of the words and the place it was painted. Now everyone is worked up that it’s some elaborate Morse code message.”

I thought of the button pinned to Jack’s coat: BE HERE NOW. Weren’t Buddhists supposed to be peaceful? I pictured kindly old men raking patterns in sandy Zen gardens and drinking tea, maybe doing some yoga in the afternoon.

Not defacing public property.

“Whoever is doing this is either very stealthy or very lucky—or both,” Ms. Lopez mused. “But luck doesn’t last forever. I think it’s only a matter of time before someone catches the vandal in action.”

That someone could’ve been me. But now I’d probably never see him again. I mean, all I knew was his first name and his philosophical stance on bacon.

Oh, and something else I’d almost forgotten: our fellow acquaintance.

4

My shift at Alto Market ended at eight, but instead of going straight home, I took the N-Judah train to the hospital. It was only a ten-minute ride, and my mom wasn’t working that night, which meant I didn’t have to worry about crossing paths with her. So I just texted her to say I was running a little late and would catch a ride home with one of my coworkers.

Evening fog was rolling in, but it was still light outside, and the hospital parking garage was fairly busy. I checked out all the places I usually spotted Panhandler Will. But after walking around for twenty minutes, I’d just about given up. That’s when I saw him waving at passing cars on the corner.

“Hey, Will,” I called out from a few feet away. He sometimes got startled, so I didn’t want to give him any reason to freak out on me.

His head turned, and he surveyed the sidewalk with a confused look until he spotted me. “Sad Girl! Why are you wearing a tie?”

“It’s part of my work clothes,” I told him, holding out an Alto Market bag. “I brought this for you.”