Page 34 of Leaving the Station
Before I can contemplate this further, the conductor comes on over the loudspeaker, a different voice than the last one. “Folks, folks, folks, folks, folks. We’ve got a full train, so say hi to your neighbors because we’re going to be getting cozy. The time now is approximately”—she pauses—“2:08 p.m., so we’re starting our journey out west about as on time as can be expected. Our first stop will be Glenview, Illinois, in half an hour.”
Then, of course, Edward breaks in. “Well, no, Camila, I’d say that our first stop will be SNACKS. Folks, for those of you who are new here, I’m your snack conductor—”
“Edward, I’m not doing this today,” the conductor—Camila—says, cutting him off.
I bark out a laugh, and Oakley looks at me.
“Did you buy a snack on the last train?” I ask her.
“Nope.”
“Then you haven’t had the absolute pleasure of meeting Edward.”
“Not yet,” she says. “I did everything I could to avoid him.”
“Smart.”
That’s all I say because I know what it’s like to do everything in your power to avoid someone.
I watch Oakley watch the shimmering gray expanse of Lake Michigan. She’s probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen—and she’s certainly the smartest.
Maybe it’ll be nice spending more time with her. It’s only three days, and my plan had initially been to stare out the window and be miserable for those seventy-two hours. This could be better.
This could besomething.
One Month into College
After our kiss, I thought everything would feel easier. And it did, in that I wasn’t constantly thinking about what it would be like if we kissed or if we should kiss or if Alden wanted to kiss me or if I wanted to kiss him.
This was a definitive answer: we were dating, and that was that. It was better than the undefined half-relationship we’d had before.
The only issue was that Alden didn’t want to see me during the daylight hours. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.
But after dark, he was all mine. I became nocturnal, sleepinguntil three or four in the afternoon, skipping classes, and dragging myself out of bed only to rendezvous with him, work a shift at the greenhouse, or occasionally eat a meal with the Tees.
I wanted the Tees to tell me to fuck off. I was being a shitty friend, and I still hadn’t told them about Alden.
But somehow, they didn’t.
“I have something to show you,” Alden said one night, grinning.
I smiled back; he was always happy to see me. “All right.”
Alden put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. I could feel the heat and the sweat and the energy of it long after he took his hand away.
When we were touching like this, I was acutely aware that we were the same height, that our bodies matched up, his shoulders level with mine, his fingertips brushing the same spots on his thighs.
I’d never cared about his height before, but now that we were dating, it felt wrong, or at least significant.
I knew I was feeding into problematic ideals, but I couldn’t stop fixating on it.
Sometimes, looking at him was like looking in a fun house mirror.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he reached out for me.
“Have you ever been to the rare-manuscript library?”
He liked to go places no one else went, to take advantage of everything the school had to offer. He behaved as if the world had swung its doors wide open for him, and really, it had.
