Nothing Happened
California

And for the first time in America nothing happened. Mostly because Jennifer wasn’t talking, like she’d suddenly turned shy or tired. She made me take the aisle seat. I didn’t argue. There were people around and I was becoming hyper-aware of my accent.

She sat with the sweatshirt collar caught on her chin. Her sleeve was pulled over the fingers of her good hand. And like that she remained, eyes closed, half tortoise, until we were well into the desert. Every so often I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and tried not to feel guilty because, really, I had nothing to feel guilty about.

‘You okay?’ I asked at one point.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘We’re almost there, aren’t we? Almost finished.’

‘Almost’ meant about five and a half hours to get to LA. There was no book this time. Unlike Homer, it was a peaceful journey. The only act of violence happened when I went to the toilet. My stomach wasn’t used to the ‘all-American’ breakfast burrito I’d had back at the bus station.

When I returned to my seat, Jennifer was asleep or, at least, pretending to be. And the Greyhound continued through the bright desert, a silver bullet following a black shadow. I tried visualising what waited in Hollywood. I’d not worry about anything else. If I missed the scene, I’d enjoy the hotel. I could even ask Jennifer if she wanted to stay over.

No, she’d think me weird.

Imagine staying in a hotel. Imagine standing in a hot shower. Imagine a complimentary toothbrush. Imagine pillows. Proper plump. Imagine cushions. Fluffy too. Imagine saying goodbye to Jennifer.

I needed to take control of my thoughts. They ranged like an untrained dog.

The director would shake my hand. He’d introduce me to the star. We’d chat about Britain and he’d compliment my clothes and … Would I be wearing the Navajo top with its grease stains from breakfast? It smells like Jennifer. Maybe I should ask if she wants to come to the studio? Would they let me do that? She could watch? How awkward? What about her dad? Was he really in prison? That’s why she’s upset. I’d not asked. What’s wrong with me? I should lock myself in my bedroom and never come out. If I ever get back to Somerset.

A face hovering over the seat ahead broke my thinking. It was a kid with a baseball cap and braces. Chubby fingers gripped the head cushion. His mother, or at least the woman he was travelling with, snored in the chair alongside. The noise she made was the same pitch as the engine’s whine. It was weird.

‘Are you Scottish?’ asked the face.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

The face disappeared. As I readied myself for more visualisation, the face popped up again.

‘Are you sure?’ it asked. ‘I heard you arguing with your girlfriend.’

‘I’m pretty sure. I’m from Britain, though, and Scotland’s part of it.’

At this information the boy’s cheeks trembled with delight.

‘Wait there!’ he said and vanished. When he returned, he had an iPad in his hands, balanced on the chair head. ‘Can I ask you some questions? It’s for an assignment.’

I nodded because there was nothing else to do right now apart from the whole feeling uncertain about the future thing.

‘One. Have you ever met the queen?’

‘No.’

With his tongue between his teeth the boy made a note of my answer with a longer-than-expected series of finger strokes.

‘Two. Have you ever assaulted someone at a soccer match?’

‘No,’ I replied.

Again his fingers entered my response.

‘And finally, number three, do you regularly see the dentist?’

‘What kind of assignment is this?’ I asked.

‘National stereotypes,’ came the response and I explained that Mum made me visit the dentist every six months.

‘Thank you for your responses. They have been successfully recorded.’

‘Is your iPad on the internet? Can I borrow it for, like, one second? I need to work out how to get to Hollywood.’

‘No,’ said the boy. ‘But you can borrow Mom’s.’

I did just that, agreeing that I’d have to pretend to have stolen it if she woke, which she wouldn’t do because she’d taken one of her pills, you know how it is.

Opening Google Maps, I already understood that Twin Towers Correctional Facility (I’d remembered the name because you couldn’t forget it) wouldn’t be anywhere near the Hollywood Roosevelt because nothing’s ever easy when you’re me and/or away from home.

The jail was half an hour’s walk from the bus station. And, yes, Hollywood was so far distant, I had to use a two-finger zoom to get both places on the same screen. I guess you can’t have all those celebrity types mingling with criminals.

Later, after handing the tablet back to the kid, and seeing Jennifer’s eyes were open, I wondered out loud whether she might like to come to Hollywood with me. If she was upset because I’d not already asked, it was because I thought she’d just come if she wanted to and it really wasn’t a big deal and was it me or was it, like, really hot in this bus?

‘I’m not angry,’ she smiled. ‘It’s the fact that the time with my dad will be severely limited because I’m liable to be hauled back to Chicago by the police, not to mention I ran off in the first place because I thought I was reuniting the family, which, obviously, I’m not. And, like, I’ve got no idea where my mom’s ashes actually are and that’s a downer. All that and end-of-vacation blues. But I’m fine.’

The tiny cogs in my brain turned.

‘I mean, you could come to Hollywood first and then see your dad? It’s not like he’s going anywhere.’

I thought this was funny but she wasn’t laughing. Instead there came a long sigh, followed by a long string of words.

‘The police, Jacob. They’ll be waiting. And even if they’re not, Dad’ll make me do the right thing because … dads. You know what they’re like. Right? It’s voodoo.’

Everyone likes to think that when it’s their turn to step onstage for the important speech, the moment that brings the whole story together, they’ll know what to say. Mainly because their lines have been written for them. But life doesn’t really work like that.

‘True,’ I said.

Jennifer reached out for my hand. She squeezed it. Almost enough to hurt. Almost. The contact pushed idiot words out of my mouth.

‘I don’t even know when the shoot is taking place other than sometime tonight, so …’

She pulled back as the gopher head of the baseball cap and braces kid appeared again. He addressed Jennifer.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Would you answer some questions for an assignment?’

‘Stick your questions up your butt,’ she replied.

The boy dropped out of view. Jennifer and I reflected smiles back at each other. I held up a palm for a high-five but she left me hanging.