11 — Myspace

Message fate and a wait for a roommate to masturbate.

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Before that drink with Gabriel, I had to make it from the mountains to the city.

Back then, I didn’t drive and had time on my hands, a precious gift. I was on no one’s schedule, no boss to satisfy, no hours to bill.

Just hours to kill.

The train was cheap: for a seat in coach, just 200 bucks. I would read and knit. I would see the unknown, possibly mythical, states. Utah! Nebraska!

The train was an adventure.

Plus, I fucking hate to fly.

Rashly, I booked the cross-country ticket and, rashly, informed room mates I was leaving. That evening, Tyler lit the grill and we sat out back, watching stars lift out of the pine trees.

I told Sally the next day. Sally worked up at the ski mountain with me, in the gift shop.

She always said she could never understand why I wanted to work outside, in the snow and cold. I said I could never understand why she wanted to sit inside, in the mountains.

“I’m leaving,” I announced.

We were sitting in my room, knitting companionably. She thought I meant leaving as in leaving to walk up to the General Store to get something for dinner.

“Ok,” she said. “I’ll go with you.”

“Wait, what?” I was confused for a second.

“Yeah, just come get me in like 15 minutes. I’m gonna go masturbate and then we can go.”

Ah.

I explained I meant “leave” as in “leave June Lake, for good”.

She shrugged. “You still need dinner, right? Come get me in like 15 minutes, we’ll go get food.”

15 minutes wasn’t enough time, it turned out, because when I went to get her, she hadn’t quite finished yet.

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That was the first time I did the cross-country Amtrak. I liked it so much I did it again, another three times.