Page 24 of All Yours

“Oh, my word,” a woman’s voice shrieked, causing us all to jump. “You’re Julia Simmons.” Her voice bounced off the water and reverberated through the trees.

“No, I’m not,” I said on instinct as a grinning middle-aged woman with a giant floral print bag hooked in the crook of her arm made her way across the patio in our direction. The different floral print of her flowy tunic made it appear that a flower garden pursued me.

“Yes, you are. I saw your picture on the tv.” She continued toward us.

“No, I’m not Julia,” I said again. Over the years, I convinced many people that I only looked like her. “I get that all the time, though.” I shrugged in my best ‘what are you gonna do? Mistakes happen’ gesture.

“I remember watching you win Wimbledon as a teenager,” she continued, to my horror, undeterred. “You were such a young little thing. Not that you’re big now. But all grown up. I am such a big fan. I cannot wait to read Sebastian’s book. It’s such a shame that you two didn’t work out. It could’ve been like a tennis dynasty. Why did you retire so young? Are you living here?” She dug into her handbag as Eden bolted for the door of Lou’s.

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else,” I said, attempting to scoot around the table in the opposite direction, trying to keep the table between us. It had been a long time since someone recognized in such a loud manner. It used to happen more, but frequency had diminished over the years. And now if people recognize me, they say nothing. I haven’t been a public figure in seven years, and I didn’t miss it at all.

“Ma’am, we’re just trying to have a quiet evening,” Lauren said, stepping in front of me, walking boot clunking on the wooden deck.

“Where have you been hiding all these years?” she asked, pulling a phone from her bag and fiddling with it a moment before holding it up. “Can I get a picture?” she asked while simultaneously taking a photo.

“No,” Lauren said, trying to keep herself between me and the camera phone wielding lunatic.

“Is this where you’ve been?” she asked, still trying to snap my photo behind Lauren. “Can you take a selfie with me?”

“Ma’am, you have the wrong person,” I said.

“Are you sure? You look just like Julie Simmons, the tennis player.”

“I am not her.”Anymore, I add silently to myself. I always make that caveat in my head when denying my former self.

“Well, I guess I made a mistake,” she said as Adrian barreled out of the door and headed straight toward us with Eden on his heels.

“Is everything alright?” Adrian asked, his bear-like posture large and imposing. I remained as hidden as I could behind Lauren.

“It was just a case of mistaken identity,” the women said. “I didn’t mean to cause a ruckus.”

“Well, it’s time to move along now.” He barked.

“It’s an honest mistake. I cannot believe how much she looks like Julia Simmons. Ya know, the tennis player.”

Former tennis player, I wanted to correct her, but I didn’t. I slunk around Lauren to head back inside and when I moved, the lady held up her phone and began taking photos.

“What are you doing?” Adrian asked as I took refuge behind him.

She shrugged. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Do not photograph my customers,” he growled. “If you’re going to behave that way, you need to leave.”

“Fine,” she sang, unfazed.

We watched her take the path back toward the parking lot.

“You’re going to need to make sure you’re not being followed when you leave,” Adrian said.

“I always do.” Although I’d gotten lax in later years as fewer people recognized me or cared if they did.

“Everyone inside,” he ordered. “Why does trouble always seem to follow the three of you around?”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Lauren replied, her walking boot clunking with every step across the wooden patio. It was a constant reminder of the incident six months prior when her ex-husband tried to barbeque her inside her bakery. She was lucky that it was only her foot that was injured.

“Don’t blame us for that. We were just sitting there having a drink,” I said as we followed Adrian inside.

Adrian turned to us. “The patio is closed for the season. And you knew that,” he pointed at Eden.

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