I bought myself an ice cream and I walked up to her, she sitting framed by the night window, and I asked her if she still wanted to go on the road trip we talked about. She turned and got real surprised, and laughed and punched air as she said my name. She was real glad to see me at a time like that, she said in short bursts, and she asked me what it was all like where I went to high school and college, and I told her I had really been fighting in Vietnam. She looked sort of upset that I didn’t tell her that.
We talked for an hour more. She told me all about how she had just recently joined this band after all this time, and about her starting high school, and about getting a part-time job at a bookstore, and I told her felt real happy for her.
I tried asking her about the road trip again.
Of course she still wanted to go, she said, but she wasn’t so sure if she could pull it off. And I told her it would be nice if it could all just work out like that, and then maybe we could go off after the trip and get married somewhere and we could live in an apartment in the middle of that city with all the cars and people rushing by every day, and we could get her beloved Mr. Dewinter then.
She just laughed, said maybe.
So I asked her if she still liked me.
She paused for a great deal, and she asked me if I’d be fine if she didn’t.
And I said yeah, I think so.
I said I wasn’t sure if I liked her a great deal anymore, anyway, but I was just curious.
And she said because it was just chemicals in your brain, right? And they all change. And I shrug, said yeah. And now she avoids my eyes. I asked her if she liked me after all this time, and she shook her head not really.
I wasn’t even sad then, but this odd feeling sort of like frustrated-from-skipping-breakfast hunger came over me, and I felt like screaming, bawling, honest to God.
So I tried to bring up another topic, and I told her the world outside looked pretty killer, but she shook her head stop it, was staring deep into the linoleum expanse with these watery eyes.
So then I told her she was still a pretty amazing person even now.
She looked pained for a moment.
And I asked her what time she had to be home. She glanced at the clock by the door, and rubbed her eyes, and told me eleven real quietly,
and she picked up her fries and got up, because it was already half past 10.
And when we both got to the door, I asked her if I could walk her home, and she nods.
Well, on the way home, we saw a sort of fat cat, and she wanted to give it some fries, but when she got real close, it ran down the street.
So we chased it all over before we lost it, and then we spent a bit trying to find it, until it was all past eleven.
And right then, we figured we’d better get home pretty fast.
And she turned to me right then, and she told me to not be sad, okay?
I told her I wasn’t sad, it was just I felt this feeling that was a lot like what you feel when you’ve skipped breakfast and you’re real angry at your hunger, you know? She said well that’s good, then—she was feeling a bit of that real strong back at McDonalds.
And then looking real frustrated, she said she wished she wanted to do something great with me real bad, she wasn’t sure what, paused.
I nodded real mock-sincerely, pretended I understood exactly what she was saying, and she laughed.
I told her I suppose I should leave you here now. She nodded.
So I started turning back for my own house.
When I got back, I really didn’t care much about the road trip anymore, or Mr. Dewinter, was all, though my stomach was telling me otherwise.)
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