Page 49 of Leaving the Station
“I think what Shelly meant,” Autumn began, “was that he takes up a lot of your time.”
“He’s myboyfriend,” I said. “Of course, he takes up a lot of my time.”
“But you never hang out with us anymore,” Rex added.
That comment shouldn’t have set me off, but it did.
“You were my orientation friends,” I said, standing up to leave and hating myself. “The kind you make before you find someone better.”
They all stared at me with so much hurt in their eyes. I knew there was no coming back from this, but I couldn’t stop. I was furious; I had to defend Alden’s honor. Or maybe I was justdone.
“It’s not like you’ve made any effort to hang out with me either.” I grabbed my tote bag from where it was sitting by the door. “You all clearly like each other more than you like me, so go have fun with your ‘real queer’ friends and leave me the fuck alone.”
I flung Rex’s door open and slammed it shut. It felt good to say all that, but when I was done, I immediately wanted to apologize.
When I returned to my dorm, Alden was still on my bed, typing out his essay. I crawled next to him and put my head in his lap, and he closed his computer and held me, his arms around my stomach.
In the comfort of my room, with the pressure of Alden’s body against mine, it felt safe to dive back into the thoughts I’d been having.
So I replayed the moments early in our relationship: running up the clock tower, sliding in socked feet down a bowling lane with him waiting at the end of it.
Before our relationship became anything physical, there was awant.
And I know now what that want was: I wanted to be like him.I wanted to move through the world in the way he did, the way he was allowed to.
That thought was too much, though, so instead of continuing to think it, I burrowed farther into him.
That night was the last time I hung out with the Tees.
Nine
Tuesday, 9 p.m., near Red Wing, MN
A conductor comes around telling us that there was a mechanical issue in the kitchen, and apologizing for the late dinner hour.
“It’s European!” he keeps repeating while dabbing at his flop sweat with an Amtrak-branded napkin.
Oakley gets two free reservations with each meal (a perk of her wildly overpriced sleeper car ticket), and when it’s time for us to head to dinner, I leave my phone in her room.
I haven’t looked at it since I got the text from Alden.
In the dining car, the first people we see are Mike, the Canadian from the scavenger hunt, and Aya’s mom. The two of them are chatting and sitting close.
Oakley convinces the waiter to let us sit with them, and she waves to Aya’s mom as she slides into the booth.
“Where’s Aya?” Oakley asks.
“She’s back in our bedroom,” Aya’s mom says with a smile that looks like it’s taking a great deal of effort. “She stayed up too late reading and passed out on the sofa. I tried to wake her up for dinner but she was out cold.”
I smile at that, thinking about the spitfire that is Aya being too sleepy for dinner.
“I’m Oakley, and this is Zoe,” Oakley says after that. “I don’t know if we’ve properly met.”
“I’m Nanami,” Aya’s mom says. “And trust me, I’ve heard quite a bit about the two of you.”
“I’m sure,” Oakley says, so wonderfully un-shy.
I nod to Mike, who’s sitting across from me. “What’s up?”
