As I run, my mind drifts back to Liv. Not in a romantic way—more like an amusing puzzle I'm not quite done with yet. She's got a presence, that's for sure. A confidence that could intimidate a room the moment she steps inside. I wonder if she'll find someone to play 'Sailor' with her.
I've always been good at reading people. It's a skill I've honed over years of negotiating and assessing risks. Liv is pretty transparent. The way she clutched her latte like it was a lifeline, the tension in her shoulders that didn't fully ease even when she laughed — she's carrying more than she lets on.
I reach the reservoir where the water gleams under the mid-morning sun, and the city skyline rises beyond it, a jagged silhouette against the bright blue sky. I slow to a jog, then stop by my usual park bench, leaning against the backrest to catch my breath.
"Blair?"
A voice pulls me from my thoughts. I turn, already half-smiling, and there she is. Valerie. Shopping Cart Valerie, at least that's what I've called her in my head for years now.
She's wearing the same patched-up coat I've seen a hundred times before, her hair a wiry tangle that refuses to obey any logic. She's pushing her shopping cart—her constant companion, piled high with an assortment of bags, blankets, and God knows what else.
"Hey," I say, still catching my breath. "How are you? You need anything today?"
She grins, revealing a set of teeth that's seen better days. "Nope, just a cigarette for the road."
I glance at the cart, wondering what road she's talking about. Valerie's been walking circles around Central Park for as long as I've been running here. But I don't press. I just pull out a cigarette from the pack I keep in the pocket of my sweats. I don't smoke myself, but Valerie does.
She takes it with a nod of thanks, lighting it with a battered Zippo. "Missed a hell of a squirrel fight earlier," she says, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Two of 'em went at it like it was the end of the world."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Who won?"
"Hard to say. They both took off before I could declare a champion. But one of 'em's missing a patch of fur now." She parks her cart within arm's reach and perches on the bench.
"What happened to you today? You're late."
I sit down next to her and smile. This is the strange ritual we've fallen into. Valerie doesn't know anything about me, and I don't know much about her. But for some reason, this—sitting and catching up over nothing—always feels like the most normal part of my day.
"Met someone interesting," I say. "She's... weird."
"Oh, yeah?" Valerie's eyes glint with curiosity. "How so?"
"She was..." I pause, searching for the right words. "Maybe looking for a fake girlfriend to bring to her sister's wedding. Something like that anyway."
Valerie takes a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Well, that's a new one. That stuff only happens in movies."
"Exactly! That's what makes it so absurd. She's got this whole imaginary person already cooked up. Her name's Sailor."
Valerie chokes out a laugh, smoke curling around her. "Sailor? What is she, a pirate?"
"Apparently, she's a finance director."
Valerie snorts. "I bet the imaginary girlfriend owns a golden retriever named Captain." She leans back on the bench, taking another drag. "Sounds like she's got more drama than the squirrels."
Valerie stubs out her cigarette and tucks what's left into a small tin she keeps in the cart. "Well, I'm off. Got places to be, creatures to argue with."
"You mean the pigeons?"
"Obviously. Those are the only ones worth my time." She grins, wheeling her cart away without another word.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" I call after her.
She turns, narrowing her eyes at me. "What? You getting sentimental now?"
I laugh it off, but the question lingers between us. "Anything. Food? A room? A bed?" It's not the first time I've offered. It won't be the last.
Valerie waves me off, a flick of her hand as dismissive as it is final. "I'm fine. Told you before, I've got everything I need right here." She gestures to her cart like it's a treasure chest.
I think about giving her my number, but I don't. She probably doesn't have a phone. Even if I gave her one, she wouldn’t be able to charge it. Valerie seems content in her own way, and who am I to disrupt that?
