Page 84 of Leaving the Station
Nanami gives Oakley the most withering stare I’ve ever seen, but she leans down and speaks into her daughter’s ear. I pick up fragments like “need to talk”and “private.”
Aya nods, and Nanami retreats to the sleeper car. But before Aya leaves, she turns around and beams at everyone as if nothing happened.
“Looks like it’s time for me to go,” Aya says to the crowd. “But it’s okay,” she adds, her tone serious. “This has been the best night of my life.”
She gives me and Oakley one last hug, then follows Nanami into the sleeper car.
After tonight, she can’t go back to not knowing.
I want to confront Oakley, to ask her why she did this, whynow,at the most inconvenient time.
But some part of me already knows the answer—she values truth and knowledge over everything else, convenience be damned. She’s told me this time and time again, and yet I can’t square this fact with what she’s about to do in one day’s time.
The party doesn’t die down once Aya leaves; it only gets more chaotic. Some of the adults pass around wine and vodka. I try to grab a bottle, but Clint appears out of nowhere and takes it from me, shaking his head.
Idomanage to snag a slice of pumpkin pie that someone brought with them on the train.
Oakley and I sit on the sidelines, sharing a fork and eating off the pug-covered paper plates in a silence I don’t know how to characterize.
“Did you hear what Aya said?” Oakley asks, not realizing that I don’t want to talk about it. “She was telling me that she’d heard her mom and dad fighting for months. She’s a perceptive kid.”
I nod as I chew a bite of pie. “I know,” I say. “But how’d you get all that out of her?”
“You didn’t think we were just talking about Percy Jackson, did you?”
“Kind of,” I tell her. “Yes.”
“I can talk about real things when I want to,” Oakley says, though her attention is now focused on the pie and the pie alone.
I’m about to ask her if she can, if she wants to have arealconversation. But just then, a slow song comes on.
“This one’s for the lovebirds,” Virginia announces to the observation car. “A special treat.” She has her arms around Clint, and she winks at me.
The song is slow and melancholy, with acoustic guitar over gentle piano notes.
Oakley extends her hand. “Dance with me?”
I don’t know if it’s a peace offering or a goodbye.
I chew the final bite of pie painfully slowly. When I’m done, she leads me to the dance floor (aka the aisle of the observation car).
She puts her hands around my neck and leans against me, and I tentatively wrap mine around her waist.
It happens so naturally, not like with Alden where I had to guide his hands up to my neck, to try to make him understand that that’s how I wanted him to hold me.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Alden right now.
“Do you think this is the first dance party that’s ever happened in the observation car?” I ask Oakley after a minute of swaying.
“No,” she says, her cheek on my shoulder. “I think that other people have probably figured out that this is a good way to waste time.”
I tighten my grip on her. “That’s not what this is, though,” I say. “It’s not just a way to waste time, right?”
She has to know I’m not talking about the party. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.
“I mean, it is, isn’t it?”
We sway for the rest of the song, but my mind is elsewhere. I have a sudden, desperate need to talk to her about what this trip has meant and what’s going to happen tomorrow.
