After a few blocks they came upon the three-story clapboard house where Ross lived. They climbed to the top floor and he gave her the two-cent tour. Then Julia sat and watched for the next thirty minutes as Ross and his new roommate lugged an old dresser, a desk, and a bed frame up into Ross’s bedroom—all furniture he’d purchased from someone on the street a few hours earlier. When the move was complete, he thanked his roommate, closed the door, and made love to Julia on his new bed.
As they lay there afterward, Ross seemed distant to Julia, but she assumed he was just tired, or that the newness of their old relationship had made him nostalgic. “I’m hungry,” she said to him as she got up and put her clothes back on.
“Sushi?” he asked.
“That sounds great.”
They walked to the restaurant, a gaudy place with neon signs and an Asian good-luck cat hanging in the window, and they sat inside at a small table. She ordered a platter of rolls, and as they ate, Ross told Julia a story she had never heard before. He explained that as a kid, he used to go fishing with his family. After a long day trawling the water, he’d eat so much fish that he’d get sick to his stomach. But he just couldn’t stop himself, he said; he’d just keep eating and eating and eating because it tasted so good.
She laughed. Then (as was typical) Julia did most of the talking and Ross most of the listening. She told him all about her life over the past year or so. About her boudoir business and how it was flourishing, and she told him that she had recently stopped drinking.
“You’ve grown up so much,” Ross said to her. “You’re so much more mature now.”
“Well,” Julia said as she swallowed a piece of sushi, “that’s because I’ve been saved.”
Ross knew exactly what she was talking about. They had discussed religion when they were in college. Back then Ross had told Julia that he had been saved too when he was younger, though he had floated away from that faith a long time ago.
They sat in silence for a moment in the sushi restaurant, until Julia said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Will you come to church with me on Sunday?”
“Yes,” Ross said. “I’d be happy to.”
With that, Julia suggested they go home and get some rest. Then, just like the old days, they made love again and fell asleep in each other’s arms, Ross spooning Julia to the sounds of San Francisco.
The following morning they woke up, showered, and set off about their day. They walked back down past the train station where Julia had arrived the day before, then up to a scrubby diner that sat at the edge of an intersection.
Julia stared out the window as they waited for their breakfast to arrive. They seemed to be in a blue-collar neighborhood, a small enclave on the edge of the city with an Irish pub and lots of middle-class families. Yet among the people walking by, heading to work or a nearby coffee shop, Julia observed techies in hoodies and Google T-shirts; it seemed gentrification was afoot.
“So what are we doing today?” she asked while taking a sip from the diner’s shitty burned coffee.
“Well,” Ross said, “I have some work to do, so why don’t you go and wander around the stores and we can meet up later?”
“That’s fine. I’ll do some shopping.”
After breakfast Ross handed her a set of keys and walked in the direction of Monterey Boulevard, toward his apartment. Julia turned and walked the other way, toward the Mission District.
Julia had planned to be out all morning, maybe picking up a few dresses or some sexy lingerie, but she wasn’t dressed for the San Francisco cold. Each time she left a store, a frigid wind engulfed her, pushing her back in the direction she had come. After an hour of this she’d had enough. She turned around, giving up on her shopping quest.
It was late morning when she returned to the apartment, placing the key that Ross had given her into the lock, twisting it, and then slowly swinging the door open.
She nonchalantly came up the stairs, rubbing her hands together to warm her skin as she turned and walked into Ross’s bedroom. When she entered, she saw him standing there, his back to her, his laptop open on his standing desk. And in a brief moment she saw something that took her back to their time together in Austin: a dozen black-and-white windows open on his computer, some with chat logs, others with code, and a Web site with a small green camel for a logo in the corner. In mere milliseconds she knew exactly what he was doing.
“Hi,” she said from behind him.
Startled, he quickly tapped a single button on his laptop that made the screen go dark and he turned around.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, flustered and nervous. “Just some work.”
They stood in silence for a moment. But she knew. And he knew. Ross hadn’t given up the site as he had once said. He was still very much involved in the Silk Road. Julia knew then that she had two choices: stay and accept him for who he was or turn around and leave.
Or perhaps there was a third way.
Chapter 59
I AM GOD
How does this look?” Julia asked Ross as she twirled around in a floral yellow dress.
“Hot—you always look hot.”
She slipped on some sneakers and told him to hurry up. “We’re going to be late for church,” she said.
“We’ll be fine,” he assured her.
It was Sunday morning, and as they walked to the bus, Julia wondered if she should mention something to Ross about the Silk Road. She had assumed when she arrived in San Francisco that he was done with the site—that’s what he had told her time and again. But there had been so many clues in the few hours they had spent together. His skittishness, especially around his computer; the way he answered questions about work; and then catching him on the computer. Sure, he still lived like a pauper, renting a cheap room on the outskirts of the city with furniture he had bought on the street, and he still wore the same clothes he had worn in college. But that was Ross. His cheapness didn’t prove, or negate, anything.
On the bus ride to church, Julia explained that the congregation where they were heading had a belief system that everyone can talk to God. Therefore, she said, there wasn’t one pastor reading the sermon; everyone took it in turns, each reading a passage for two minutes before the piano dinged and someone else stood up to take the pulpit. “It’s a little culty,” she joked, “but it’s really quite beautiful.”
The church looked more like a 1980s office building that belonged to an obscure spy agency than a place of God. It was two stories high and painted a strange lime green color. Dozens of white security cameras pointed down from every direction. The only signifier that this was a place of worship was the dark lettering across the top that read MEETING PLACE OF THE CHURCH IN SAN FRANCISCO.
Services had already begun when they rushed inside, Julia ushering Ross into a pew in the back of the room. As they settled into the wooden seats, prayers were being chanted by the mostly Asian parishioners. “Oh Lord!” and “Jesus, praise the Lord!” ricocheted through the large room. Almost immediately the congregation was asked to “please rise.”