He looked at his watch. The enormous square face caught a lingering sliver of winter sunlight long enough for him to read 5:00. He squinted up and down the street, through the encroaching darkness, hoping the street lamp would be on soon. A heavy breeze blew, but it wasn’t really cold not for December anyways. Still, he was bored and busied his hands by taking the ends of the wool scarf at his neck and tying a firm knot. Buttoning up his pea coat, he looked once more at his watch. It had become too dark to be read, so he buried his hands in his pockets rocking back and forth, impatiently, from toe to heel.
Chase stood waiting and waiting, watching the crowds scurry about the parking lot across the street. The department store there was overwhelmed with holiday shoppers.
After nearly an hour it began to rain and in a short burst of temper he ran cursing loudly to the stairwell of his apartment building. His anger was such that he picked up a large stick from the sidewalk and, without breaking stride threw it straight up into the air. Though childish, it seemed therapeutic, but as he continued his retreat from the rain, suitcase in tow, the stick fell. It returned from the sky with a force so complete that when it struck the crown of his uncovered head, he nearly lost his balance. Once sheltered, a thorough examination could be taken over the damages. He sat for a moment and collected himself, the stick would leave a bump, and the rain might cause a cold. It was not the end of the world.
There was light there, and his watch showed 6:00 pm. It was completely dark, and the temperature change was dramatic. It went from 46 to 37 degrees in no more than thirty minutes. The stick lay in the rain just inside the influence of the stairwell light. The bump it left was now the size of a small egg. It was tender to the touch, but he ran his fingers over it every couple of minutes, wincing as he applied slight pressure.
He sat on the steps and thought of Lisa. He thought of the way that she smiled at him the first time they met. He thought of their first day in class when she sat down in the next desk and informed him that they were going to be partners. He thought of her bizarre genius, and how she was so absent minded but always had A’s. How she loved Freud but hated Jung and was obsessed with dreams. He thought of how she was always late and he asked himself why he didn’t try to find a more reliable ride to the airport. But as he asked himself this, he already knew the answer.
Lisa had been one of the only good things about this whole California experience. It was strange how they had bonded. In only four months they had become relatively close friends. They hung out on the weekends, he helped her with her French and she helped him with psych. Though they were both passionate about their relative subjects, they would often digress, talking more about movies, or the rugged beauty of the western landscape, or how to make the perfect cup of coffee. But even Lisa couldn’t distract him from this melancholy. His compass was not working. His direction in life was not clear.
The sound of an approaching car prompted him to lean out into the rain to check for his ride. Nothing was there, so he settled back down on the step. “I hate this place,” he thought to himself, as he sat in the cold for another hour and a half, jumping out into the misting rain every time he heard a car.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the weather in northern California could have been March in Idaho, his native state. He had been tempted on more than one occasion, with the thought of driving the twelve hours home and leaving California behind, but he had already taken out loans for the spring semester. Besides, he couldn’t leave his roommate with all those bills. At that moment, he just wanted to get home for Christmas.
His roommate Jim had already left for home. Jim and Chase had grown up together. An agreement had been made last September to drive home together for Christmas, but Chase decided to work until the twenty-third while Jim wanted to leave on the twelfth when classes ended.
Chase booked a redeye flight to save money and even though he was in Redding, the flight was to leave from Sacramento. It was another way to save money. The plane didn’t take off until 12:30 am but it was a three-hour drive and it was almost 7:30. He was ready to leave right then; better to wait at the airport on time, than here in the rain, wondering where his fucking ride was.
The blue 1990 Acura he bought last summer was probably capable of making the drive, but he didn’t have the money to pay the long term parking fees when he flew back.
That he had a 4.0 G.P.A. and worked two fairly satisfying jobs, didn't seem to matter, he was depressed. California was supposed to buoy him, feed his creativity, and help him achieve educational goals. But he felt like a prisoner.
The stick lay damp in the rain no more than two feet away. His loathing of the inanimate object was merely an intense jealousy. The stick with its lack of cognitive awareness didn’t know that it was wet, vulnerable, exposed or even that it existed at all. Hatred turned to rage. He knew his mission, and the rain was no deterrent; he stepped out picked up the stick and concentrating his emotion into physical movement, threw it once more, laterally this time aiming for the communal trash bin at the far corner of the building. An enormous oak tree interrupted its intended trajectory and it was deflected into a nearby shrub. The “clunk” of wood on wood sounded familiar, it was a dead end on a journey without a destination.
He looked across the street at the department store and his expression showed resolve. He ruffed up his collar, tightened his scarf, and dragged his suitcase in a sprint across the soggy street until he was under the protection of the stores protruding eaves. There was a payphone there, which he had used often over the previous few days.
Holiday shoppers pushed and shoved each other semi-politely in and out of the automatic doors. With this many people, the payphone had a line. He joined the queue and waited. He felt like a fool with his suitcase, not just the absurdity of having it there, but the suitcase itself was embarrassing. It had belonged to his Grandmother, and its red patent leather covering was almost neon under the overhead light. He could have hidden it in his apartment, but his sense of urgency was growing.
As the line moved forward, he dug into his coat pockets until a two hundred minute calling card had been located. At last he was facing the phone. He checked the card while dialing. He punched in the code and then the number, until finally he heard a ring. He made sure he was facing his apartment building so as not to miss his ride.
The throbbing in his head was beginning to subside, but the problem was not so much the pain, rather it was self-pity. He had the feeling that even nature was conspiring against him.
“Hello?” The voice belonged to a young girl.
“Hi Michelle, it’s me. Is mom or dad there?”
“Are you already at the airport? I thought your flight was like at two in the morning.”
“No I haven't even left Redding.”
“Shouldn’t you get going?”
“Lisa isn’t here yet.”
“Lisa? Ooohh, I see. So you are getting a ride from Lisa, are you guys going out or something?”
“I am supposed to be getting a ride from her, but she hasn't shown up yet. And no, we are not going out.” He let out an audible sigh of exasperation, and rubbed his eyes.
“Don’t you like her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should ask her out. Not only is she way hot for some one like you, but everyone knows she likes you.”
“What do you mean everyone? How would you know, you live in Idaho. We are friends. That’s it.” Chase loved his sister, but could barely stand her interrogative conversations.
“You don’t know that, because you haven’t asked her.”
“I can’t ask her, because she isn’t here, now will you just get mom or dad?” Chase raised his voice, and his impatience was beginning to get the better of him.
“Why don't you call her then?” Michelle had noticed his escalation and was more than willing to match it.
“I don't have her Goddamn number!” The line was quiet for two or three awkward seconds.
“You shouldn't swear at me,” She waited for a moment, expecting an apology, then said quietly “I’ll go get mom.”
He wanted to say something but it was too late. The damage was done. The line was empty, so he stood there holding the phone, smiling awkwardly at the people in line behind him.
“Chase? What did you say to Michelle?” His mother’s voice sounded concerned more than angry.
“Nothing, mom listen-“
“Well obviously you said something, she is about to cry.”
“I yelled at her, I’ll apologize when I get home, but I-“
“I hope so. Is everything all right? You sound like you are stressing out.”
“Listen I need you to try and find Lisa’s number.”
“Why would I have Lisa’s number? Are you OK?”
“Yes, I am fine.” Chase knew his mother and that she would not believe he was fine and so he said quickly “I got hit in the head with a stick.”
“Some one threw a stick at you?!”
“No, nothing that dramatic, I threw it up in the air, and when it came back down, it hit me in the head.” Wanting to get to the point Chase tried to continue with Lisa’s number but his mother laughed from her end of the phone. It was not a cruel laugh, it was more of a reactionary laugh, but Chase was not in the right mood to appreciate the difference.
“That’s not funny,” Chase said. “I mean it, stop laughing.”
“Well kid, what did you expect would happen? If you throw something up it’s going to come down.” She could tell that Chase had had enough and tried to regain her composure. “What did you need?”
“I just need Lisa’s number.”
“Why would I have Lisa’s number?”
“She gave it to you when you visited last September.” He began to run his fingers over someone’s inscription. J.R.-HEART-T.K.
“That was months ago, and we’ve moved since then.” It was as if the odds that those ten digits were in her home were so incredible she shouldn’t even begin a search.
“I know, but Lisa’s my ride to Sacramento and she’s two hours late. I think she forgot me.” He stopped fidgeting his fingers and leaned his head against the phone.
“Why don't you just drive?”
“The parking is too expensive.” His voice was so soft that he wasn’t sure his mother had heard him. It was always a humiliating thing for him to admit he was broke but especially to his mother two days before Christmas. She left the line quiet for a little bit.
“Maybe we can help. How much is it?”
“I don’t know. A hundred, maybe a hundred fifty.” He knew they could help him, and that made it worse. His pride, already wounded was taking another blow.
“Oh… well, hang on a second, I’ll go ask your dad.”
The phone went quiet, and he stood upright. He turned and faced the line behind him. It had not grown but there were three that had been behind him and they were still there.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, what did he say?”
“He said that we could pay half of one fifty.”
“Thank you,” he didn't have seventy-five dollars but he would deal with that later. “What time is it?” He didn’t look at his watch.
“Almost nine here, so seven fifty-five there.”
“I’ll wait another half hour and if she is not here by 8:30 I am leaving.”
“Alright, well I will see you in a just a couple hours then.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye.”
He hung up the phone.
He grabbed his suitcase and walked back to his stairwell. As he took his seat, the rain began to subside. The seventy-five dollars began to worry him. Not to mention all that gas. Fucking California and their over priced gas.
Just then a purple SUV pulled up, and the tinted passenger side window rolled down. The girl that spoke from inside was pretty. Even from a distance, in the dark, through a rolled down passenger side window, he could see her green eyes shining.
“Have you been waiting?” Her voice was so low it was almost a tenor. He loved that voice.
“For three hours.” Suddenly he was glad it was dark. His suitcase was embarrassing, it was a cheap piece of crap when it was new, and it was thirty-two years old. The less she could see the better. He opened the back door and triggered a mechanism causing the dome light to illuminate everything in the car, including his suitcase. But there was almost no room for a suitcase. Besides her main suitcase, there were others which included three large suitcase’s and a smaller pilot’s case.
“I am so sorry, you know how I am with time.” She turned in her seat and her face showed genuine remorse. The dome light was bright; her eyes were brighter in the harsh yellow light, mesmerizing. “Nice suitcase.”
Her sarcasm was so subtle that if not for his insecurities about the suitcase he might have mistaken the insult for a compliment. He hoped she didn't notice his wince.
“I know,” he paused. “But it was free, so I can't complain.” He wished that he could complain, and climbed into the front seat.
“That’s all you’re bringing?” She rolled her eyes flirtatiously.
“You were supposed to be here at five.” He said as she reached across his chest and grabbed his seat belt to buckle it for him. “What the hell happened?” As she withdrew, her breasts swept lightly across his arm. It was subtle, but he felt it through his coat sleeve. It felt like electricity and his irritation begin to subside.
“I don’t know I just fell behind schedule.” He would have laughed at the thought of her keeping a schedule, if he hadn't still been annoyed. “You could have just called me. Did you think I forgot you?” She laughed as the car left the curb and careened precariously out into traffic.
“I don't have your number. So I couldn’t call. I thought my mom might have it so I called her.”
“Why would your mom have my number?”
“You gave it to her last September when my family was here.” He paused waiting for a response but none came. “I was ready to just drive myself.”
“What do you mean you don’t have my number? You called me yesterday.”
“It was on my phone, and my phone is broken.”
“Oh,” she was suddenly more interested, “how did it break?”
“I dropped it on the top stair of my building and it bounced all the way down.” The answer wasn’t a complete lie; it had been thrown down the steps not dropped. His service had been shut off by the provider, for an unpaid balance.
“That sucks, aren't you going to get a new one?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I hated it.” He hoped that she would leave it at that.
The answer was apparently adequate and they sat for a few minutes with the sound of the road creating the most noise. Chase liked their silences almost as much as their conversations; they had both become accustomed to sitting in long mutual silences. This occurred most often while they did homework but also while they were both contemplating some grand idea that had come up in a conversation.
Lisa did not say a word but pulled a large notebook style CD case from underneath her seat. The purple SUV swerved from line to line as the steering wheel fought the CD case before she finally handed it to Chase, directing him to make a selection.
He switched on the overhead light, and found that she had rearranged her CD’s. They were now organized by genre.
“What do you want to hear?”
“I don’t know, just pick one.”
Forced by indecision he closed the case and let it fall open. Closing his eyes he let his finger fall, he had chosen “Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits.” Lisa immediately gave her approval.
“I love this, go to five.”
As the song began she grabbed the volume knob and gave it a violent turn. The increase in volume was so sudden Chase’s ears hurt. They began to adjust and he anticipated another comfortable period of silence, at least between Lisa and himself but she began to sing along to him.
“Once upon a time, you dressed so fine, threw the bums a dime in your prime. Didn’t you?” She spent dangerous amounts of time looking away from the road, to sing directly to him. Smiling like a maniac.
He smiled back and wished that he knew more of the words. She turned the volume down to a point at which they could speak by raising their voices slightly.
“Isn't this song so true? Do you ever feel like a ‘Rolling Stone’?”
“I don’t know…what do you mean?”
“Just listen.”
Once again she adjusted the volume to an outrageous level and sang along as loudly as possible.
“How does it feeeel? How does it feel? To be one your own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown. Like a ‘Rolling Stone’.” She turned the volume down again. “See, I mean we're all like ‘Rolling Stones,’ in a way.”
“Not me, I’m going home right now.”
“What makes that your home any more than any other place?”
“That's where my family lives, that’s where my heart is, home is where your heart is.” He found himself inexplicably annoyed.
“Yeah I guess.”
“What do you mean you guess, where is your home?” His tone reflected his on edge state of mind.
“I don’t have one,” it was a matter of fact, more than an open ended philosophical statement. “I‘m like a ‘Rolling Stone’.” Recognizing his annoyance, and feeling herself becoming tense, she reached over, ejected the disc, and handed it to him. Putting it away he made his next selection in exactly the same way as he did the last.
“So what’s the point of driving to Sacramento? If you don’t have a home?” He was voice was getting louder. His finger fell on a burned disc. ‘My Lonely Mix’ was written in sloppy cursive across the top. Surprised that he had never seen her lonely mix before, he pushed the CD into the player. “It just sounds like you talking a whole lot of bullshit to me.” He was angry! Not with her or what she had said, necessarily, but it was as if the whole evening were being exorcised from him, the whole previous semester.
“I know it does, but I feel like that sometimes.” He knew his words stung, he was attacking one of the only friends he had.
She had become desperate to change the subject “What CD is this?”
“Your lonely mix.” This time she tried to conceal a wince. He noticed but didn't mention it. Realizing the effect of his disposition, he began to regain control.
“Look, I’m sorry, I am just tired, and I want to see my family. Sometimes everyone feels like a ‘Rolling Stone’ but just because you don’t have a direction home, doesn't mean you don’t have a home.”
“When have you ever felt like a Rolling Stone?”
“When I was waiting for you to pick me up. I didn’t think you were coming, and I can't get a refund on my ticket and if my car made it to Sacramento, I don't have enough money to get it out of the parking lot when I came back.”
“I can't believe you really thought I would forget you.” She skipped the first few songs on the disc. Obviously she was still slightly shaken. “I’m not stupid.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid.” She didn't reply. Her grip on the wheel was tight, and she stared intensely at the road. The song was unfamiliar and he wished he had been a little more discrete when he made his selection, especially when he realized how quiet she had become. The volume knob hadn't moved in either direction. She was trying to be indifferent, but the effect of the music was evident. He had overreacted with the Bob Dylan comments. He looked at the clock.
It was already 9:00, but he was going to be on time to Sacramento. He tried to relax a little bit. But he couldn’t ignore the tension that was building quietly between them. The lonely mix played into the silence between them for a while; there was something about this disc that changed her mood.
“What about when your family dies?” The question was deliberate and full of anger. He was surprised by her frankness. She had never been this direct with him over their last four months of friendship.
“What?”
“Will you still have a home?” The volume knob was so forcefully turned that he thought it might come off. Without the stereo playing, her voice sounded even more severe. “What happens when you get old and everyone dies?” The headlights of oncoming traffic showed her face, and the expression made him uncomfortable.
“I don't know.”
“My dad died last spring, and now my mom is a fucking lunatic.” Her posture became rigid and she was holding back tears he could hear the quiver in her voice. “ I don’t even want to go home for Christmas, I am a goddamn ‘Rolling Stone’.”
“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean…” He stumbled on his words and then shut-up.
The intensity subsided with his apology and her anger began to ebb as she reached up to take out the disc. He instinctively opened the case to find another. But she interrupted his search.
“Find my ‘goodbye’ mix.” He could hear that she was slowing her breath deliberately, trying to calm herself. “It should be in the back.”
He flipped to the last page and made his way forward from there. Though he kept his head down, he was desperately aware of everything she was doing next to him. He could feel her beginning to calm down. Then he began to focus on his own guilt. He should have never let something as stupid as a song get under his skin.
Without the overhead light it was hard to see the writing on the top of the disc. Fearing the light would embarrass her however, Chase struggled through the first two pages, and then she switched on the light. It was so sudden and unexpected that he jumped. His eyes took a moment to adjust.
“This might help,” They had been friends since August earlier that year. And as his vision returned he realized he had never seen her look so vulnerable. Her eyes were red and the tears that had managed through her struggle left trails of moisture that had not been dealt with completely. A disarming smile spread on her face.
“Thanks,” he turned back to the CD case and found the disc on the next page. Goodbye was written in the same sloppy cursive across the surface of the disc. “Here it is.” Her hand was shaking as they exchanged discs.
“Sorry about that, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She inserted her‘goodbye’ mix into the dashboard. Then wiped her face with her sleeve. “I am just a wreck.”
“This is the first Christmas without your dad?”
“Yeah, I wish I could just stay here. I hate the thought of the house without him.”
“I can't believe you are just now telling me.”
She realized that the volume was still down and turned it up to the most reasonable level he had heard all night. “I miss him a lot.”
“So this is the ‘goodbye’ mix?”
“Yeah it’s kind of depressing.
“Goodbye to who?”
“Goodbye to everyone.”
“Umm, that sounds like a suicide CD.”
“It was.” She looked at him, “but it’s not anymore.”
“Oh” He said awkwardly.
“Now it’s goodbye to the assholes.”
“That’s probably the best thing to say to assholes.”
“Yeah, and its better then blowing your head off.”
‘In My Life’, by the Beatles was on, and he listened almost reverently, “There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed, some forever, not for better, some have gone and some remain… I know often stop and think about them, in my life, I loved them all.” ‘You Can’t Escape My Love’ by Enrique Iglesias was the next song. “If you feel like leaving, I not gonna make you stay. But soon you’ll be findin’ you can run you can hide, but you can’t escape my love.” The song was catchy, but its bubble gum beat and semi-silly lyrics coupled with ‘In My Life,’ made it seem like a ridiculous selection. Chase laughed out loud.
“What?” She smiled. “It’s a good song.”
“Yeah but it doesn't really make me think ‘good bye assholes.’” He was glad she was smiling.
“It made sense when I put it together, it was right after my dad died, and my mom was driving me nuts,” she looked in her mirror and intuitively rubbed out a smudge in her makeup. “I was thinking about jumping off a cliff, or shooting myself or whatever, and this CD was going to be my suicide note. I wanted people and my mom to know that even though I was dead I still loved them.”
“Whoa, that’s heavy. What stopped you? I mean I am glad you’re alive but why didn’t you do it?”
“ ‘That's heavy,’ what a dork.” She pushed his shoulder flirtatiously.
“It’s from 'Back to the Future’.” He said hastily. “Why didn’t you shoot yourself or whatever?”
“I realized that we are all ‘Rolling Stones,’ that none of us has the answer.” She turned the music back down all the way. “We are all just trying to find out how to get home.”
“Oh,” he said feigning understanding, “ok.” Since neither of them had anymore to say, neither of them said anything. They never touched the volume knob either.
They sat in comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride. Northern California blew past in the darkness. It seemed mysterious washed in blackness and the intermittent rain, as if one could simply take ten steps off of the freeway and get lost out there forever. Neatly arranged vineyards and fields were visible as far as passing headlights would allow. The well-organized rows were punctuated here and there by small towns where one could see an occasional home dressed with lights for the holidays. As the Sacramento skyline came into view, the rain again became more consistent. Chase finally spoke, addressing the silence.
“Being a ‘Rolling Stone’ isn’t really a bad thing.”
Lisa nodded her agreement.
“I mean, if none of us have a home, then we are all in the same boat, right? None of us have an answer.”
“You mean in like a ‘we’re all screwed’ kind of way?” Lisa said.
“Yeah.”
“Well that’s not completely accurate.”
“Yeah it is.”
“My dad got shot in the head because someone wanted to take his car. Someone thought that his car was more important than his life, and that sucks a lot. I will never understand why that happened, but life isn’t pointless, just because we don’t understand it. That’s mainly why I didn’t kill myself, I realized life is messy you know.”
“But isn't that the only conclusion? If none of us know the ‘way home’.”
She left the freeway at the airport. It was only 11:15, but Chase wasn’t concerned with the time. It was as if his friend had become someone with a deep insight, more wise than him. The traffic light ahead was red, and the car slowed to a stop.
“Every single human being on this planet is hard wired to be aware of its existence. Remember that study I was talking about? That one I read in my human spirituality class? It said most of us have an understanding of our existence on an abstract level before we’re out of grade school, but our brains can do all of this crazy stuff that we never even realize. The study was mainly about these Buddhist monks that do this really intense meditation and certain parts of their brains are only active when they are really deep into it, they get to the point that they sense another plane of existence. Like in Tibet or the same thing happens when these Franciscan nuns in Italy pray. They are so intense that they do it for hours and hours. Some of them even do it for days.”
The light turned green and she followed the signs leading to the terminal.
“It’s like they get to this place where they are super sensitive to the world around them. We had a monk from the Oakland come and have us try it. It was intense. He said it feels like God is sitting next to us, and even though we don’t know why everything is important, we knowthat it is.” She was navigating the traffic in front of the terminal but she was so focused getting her words out she hardly stopped to take a breath.
“The only reason that we would exist, and be capable of something like that, is that like you said, even though we have no direction home, we must still have a home.”
They were at the curb. Chase opened the door, and undid his belt. As he removed his suitcase from the backseat, he was not at all concerned with its appearance. An attendant offered a handcart. Chase thanked the man and said goodbye as he shut the door.
“Thanks for the ride, I feel enlightened.”
“No problem, have good trip. See you when you get back.”
“Yeah same to you.”
“Merry Christmas, Chase.”
“Merry Christmas Lisa.”
He shut the door, turned, and pushed his cart towards the terminal. The decorative trees lining the sidewalk were dressed in lights of green and red, their terra cotta pots draped in garland. They had apparently been trimmed for the occasion because near the automatic doors lay a small stick, which had been overlooked by the custodial crew earlier in the day. It was not at all obvious as it sat off to the right hand side of the door. He reached up and touched the bump on his head, he had completely forgotten about it, and only by applying pressure could he even feel it. Nature was not conspiring against him, his mother was right; a stick thrown up would come down. He looked at the small piece of wood lying there, and though he felt a slight temptation to pick it up as he passed, he decided to leave it be. He entered the airport for his flight home.