not a lot of room to move

"isn't it alright?" i asked. no response.

sitting in a diner near rockford, illinois. we'd driven for the last two days. the sun was bright, the fields stretching infinitely into the horizon were all emerald, spiked here and there with golden light and tall reeds. the sky pure blue. everything seems at the elemental level here: the coffee strong, the bread hearty, the eggs robust with protein and energy. i understand the term "heartland" now.

i'm going back to drop her off in california and that will be a very difficult scene, a very difficult week. i have two plans:

if things go well: i stay in los feliz and we sit down one evening at the coffee shop that has been heavily tagged up and discuss what the next step is. the next step will involve something life-changing, that is for sure. kids, a house, a life together. one of those.

if things go poorly: i will most likely sell the car somewhere in orange county. i'll take the amtrak to san francisco and within three days i will try to kill myself. if i succeed, fair enough. if i fail, i get to keep on living.

i figure this is about as simple as i can make it. what's the use of over-thinking it? like that poster at my old office said: "keep it simple, stupid".

eggs and toast in rockford. it's a beauty of a day out, summer is finally here. i'm surprised to realize that in all actuality, i am in a great mood. so what that we're driving west, on a schedule towards something huge. who cares that fate is firmly grasping us, pushing us blindfolded down corridors, unrelenting to our protests? we could pass out while driving and slam into a tree. we could find a hundred thousand dollars in a suitcase by the roadside. these possibilities don't bother or excite me in the least.

i'm going to just sit and enjoy the day, i tell myself. look at the sun streaming into this place, think of all the frozen winter mornings and long summer afternoons this place has seen. will it still be here in fifty years, i wonder.

one year in new york city i was in charge of approving user-submitted photos for a social networking website. i became familiar with certain users that frequently uploaded their own images. there was the religious fanatic in texas, fifteen and quietly pretty, her images always had a bible verse typed over them. lots of pictures of her cat. there was the solemn looking boy who took photos of his backyard, dappled in sun, his exhausted mother standing by an elm waving. there was the gorgeous teenager from a prairie town with a bored expression, imploring other site users to text her.

these people, us, we're all getting pushed down those hallways. the girl in texas, where will she be the day that cat is old and passes away. will she be the same inside? will she have changed her lifestyle? who will she call when that day comes, the day a chapter of her childhood closes? the boy will grow up and one day a passing scent will take him to that backyard. how far away from it will he be? when the pretty girl moves out of her sleepy town to the big city and discovers her capabilities, will she use them for good?

everyone is off on their own drives, across the country, down the street, around the corner. we could all pass out. we could all find our money. i'm just going to soak it up.

"yeah, it's alright," she replies finally.

side orders

it's raining. i haven't owned a car for five years but still whenever it rains i immediately wonder if i've remembered to roll up the windows.

i would like a refreshing drink, something orange maybe. something light and crisp but so cold. it should feel like swimming in a rushing river in the rain. that's refreshment.

once when i was a teenager i left my car parked at a friend's house. we had gone in his car to the mall. there were passing thunderstorms, summer ones that drench the city and then move off to the east as fast as they came. we got back to his house and i'd left my windows down. the car was soaked inside and filled with leaves that had blown free from a nearby oak. my friend's stepfather and step-sister were sitting on the porch watching me curse my poor luck. "yeah," the stepfather said. "we were wondering who the unlucky owner of that car was." thanks for rolling up my windows, you two.

of course i can laugh about it now. the car has long since died, it's axle snapping as i made a hard right turn early one morning on the way to the airport. i got to new york city and my father called and told me the car was no more. and there, in the span of the hour long flight, one chapter of life closes and another begins.

it was raining one evening as we walked home down irving street. i was showing her the city for the first time. she clutched my arm and seemed nervous. we were quite drunk. 'don't be nervous,' i said, and i started pointing out landmarks to calm her down. 'there's where the one armed delivery man works,' i told her, pointing to a shuttered cafe. 'there's where the japanese girl with the very old jack russell terrier lives. she always puts a small pink shawl on the poor old thing.' a car slows down behind us and i worry that despite my trying to allay her fears, we might actually be in a sketchy situation in a minute. the car kills its headlights and keeps cruising slowly behind us. i can hear muffled bass from inside. we are mid block, about 50 yards from the next intersection. the streetlights are mostly obscured by the leafy canopies of the trees. 'caroline,' i begin, about to tell her to dip into the next alleyway, but the car suddenly drives off into the night, blowing past us in a darkened blur. she has been oblivious, her head nestled into my shoulder.

she is gone now too, i can't even remember a defining point when it ended. gradually things fell apart and one day i awoke and she was out of my equation. sometimes i take an old sweater out of the back of the closet and there near the collar a stray long blondish-brown hair, one of hers, a reminder. one afternoon in fall i send all of the clothes in the back of the closet to the dry cleaners.

the rain falls with no direction, no purpose. nothing like the powerful and determined rains of summer. nothing like the cruel and punishing rains of december. just rain, pouring down with no intent, indiscriminate.