When Alex arrives, Isabel is waiting for him, smoking a cigarette and watching the city across the bay. He can see her from the bottom of the steps, the smoke trailing from the side of her face like a silver snake, her thin legs hiding among the wooden rails. He climbs up the stairs and puts his books down next to her.
“Sorry I’m late,” Alex says, like he does every time he arrives after four-thirty.
Isabel stays still, watching the students on bicycles, the cars on the bridge, the families and their large houses, everything that could never belong to her. She takes another drag, and then she looks at Alex and smiles.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey, Isa, sorry I’m late.” He brushes his dark brown hair out of his face and smiles back at her. “The professor went over a little in lecture, but you know how I am. Can’t miss a word!”
“Is okay,” Isabel says, her English askew. “Is nice out today.”
“It’s,” Alex says as he takes her hand. “It’s nice out today.”
“It’s,” she repeats.
He gathers his books and the two walk over to his apartment. Isabel looks at the door she has seen so many times, at the 3C engraving and the chipping blue paint. Her home away from home away from home. The first is halfway down the world, the second, across the city. The third is this one, a world unlocked for her by a Classics major from Berkeley every Thursday evening after his class on Ovid. Alex smiles and opens the door.
“After you,” he says, motioning with an open hand.
Isabel walks inside and can already feel the tips of his fingers, his palms, his chin and mouth exploring her. She slips off the yellow sweater that is draped around her shoulders and unbuttons her shirt and jeans.
“How was your day today?” Alex asks her as he takes her clothes, folds them, and places them carefully on a chair.
“Good.” Isabel puts her purse down near the door.
“Good,” he says, unbuckling his jeans and throwing off his t-shirt. “My day’s been pretty cool. Had lunch with some friends, made ten bucks in tips from the coffee shop, class was good. Really interesting. The professor is out of this world, I’m telling you.” Alex closes the door behind them and takes his pants off. “Just like you.”
“Just like you,” Isabel says, her pronunciation almost perfect. She closes her eyes as she lies down on the bed, ready to feel, to let him in. She thinks of nothing else but the two of them together. The four walls, the sink, his dirty dishes, one bed, two lamps, his desk, bookshelf, and chair. The bathroom at the end of the hall they share with other tenants. When they make love, it is her privacy, her sustenance. She is away from everything, with him alone.
“Isa,” he says, and she opens her eyes. “Isa, stay still for a second.”
“What is it?” she asks.
He slips out of her and lies down next to her on the bed.
“What is it?” Isabel asks again.
“I think… I think we’re in the middle of an earthquake.” Alex puts his arms around her and holds her underneath him, waiting for the tremors to pass.
If this were to happen where she came from, the banks of the river would food and their naked bodies would turn into the clay they were once made of. But here she feels only the heavy jolts, her lover’s body against hers. She watches glasses fall off his desk and shatter, the books tumble to the floor. Nothing more.
And then it’s over. They find their clothes, go outside, and have a smoke. Isabel lights her cigarette first.
“It’s crazy, huh?” Alex asks her. He lights his cigarette with hers and goes on. “I’ve lived here all my life, and nothing like this has ever happened. It’s unbelievable.”
“Never?”
Alex is quiet for a moment. He closes his eyes as if remembering.
“Yeah,” he says, exhaling. “Did you know, this one time, San Francisco burnt to the ground? After a real big earthquake?”
They stand quietly for a long time, leaning against the railing, breathing together. The sun begins to set, and Isabel can almost see the city in a blaze. The bay is red and orange, and the sky is, too. Isabel barely hears Alex when he says he’s heading inside to do some reading for tomorrow. She stays standing where she is, watching the fire flicker into night, and then at night there is only darkness. The city is still standing, but she can see nothing, there are no lights to guide her eyes. When Isabel picks up her purse and sweater from the floor, and says goodbye, she knows she will be blind to the love that Alex has to give her, and that she will no longer see him nor the number and letter on his door.
