As I move closer, I notice a picture of a boy. His face feels familiar, like I should know him, but I can’t place it. It slips through me, just out of reach.
My mind circles it. I don’t know what’s memory and what’s dream.
I stare at the picture, unable to move, while the song goes on and on, carried by her small voice and soft hums. It feels like I am falling, as if I’m there all over again, and the song never stops.
My eyes open the moment the bus stops.
I push myself up, still disoriented, and I hear the driver call out the last station. I follow everyone toward the exit, moving with the crowd. As soon as I step outside, a large clock catches my eye, hanging above the station. The ride to Santa Rosa only took two hours.
I walk toward a bench, scanning for a schedule that might tell me when the next bus leaves, but I don’t even have to wait. Another bus is already there.
At the front, near the driver’s mirror, a list of stops is taped up. My eyes move down the lines until they land on Mendocino.
I hurry toward the entrance and slip into the line. The driver watches each person as they step in, his eyes moving from face to face. By the time I reach him, the bus is almost full.
“To Mendocino, please,” I say.
“Fifteen dollars.” He pulls a ticket from the machine and hands it to me.
I give him the money and move down the aisle, slowing down at the first empty seat I see.
An older woman sits by the window, staring outside. A fur coat wraps around her shoulders, and a red scarf covers her head.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask.
She shakes her head once.
I sit down beside her.
She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. My eyes drop to the ticket in my hand. Paper shows the drive will take five hours. I’ll arrive at night.
I lean back and close my eyes again.
This time, the dream is different.
There is nothing. Just me, floating in darkness. Peaceful.
1. Idiot
Five
AURELIA
Iwish life were simple enough that you could snap your fingers and be transported exactly where you wanted to be. Just like that. No waiting. But life isn’t that simple. Not even close.
The bus arrived at the station last night, well past midnight. The place was empty. Just the lights above rows of cold metal seats, and me. I had nowhere to go, so I sat here, and I’m still staring at the clock, waiting for time to move so I can finally look for the house where I’m supposed to work.
The air is getting colder as time passes. Every sound feels louder, including the ticking of the clock and the shuffle of my shoes against the floor.
A woman arrived not so long ago and sat beside me. She’s holding a white rose so tightly the stem bends between herfingers. She keeps looking toward the entrance, as if she expects someone to walk in at any second.
But no one came, and she stayed.
I slept through almost the entire journey here, and now my eyes refuse to close. Even as morning begins to bleed into the sky, I sit awake and restless.
The big clock ticks towards five.
I stand, moving toward the wall with the map.
