Page 34 of Leaving the Station

Even though I hardly slept for two hours, I’m as close to rested as I’ve been for days. I stretch out, bending forward at

the waist and dangling my arms so they touch the train carpet. It feels good to let my head sway, to hand control over to

gravity.

When I walk to the observation car, the middle-of-the-night energy is gone and replaced by people slowly rising from the floor,

bones cracking from disuse as they prepare for the day ahead, whatever it may bring.

The train has been slightly delayed this whole time, but now we’re chugging along, speeding through my home state. I can’t

believe this is the last morning of the trip. That in a few hours, whether I like it or not, I’ll be back in Seattle.

I’m not as worried as I was before, though. Because I know that when I get there, I’ll have plenty to do. The first of which

includes explaining everything that happened this past semester to my parents. Maybe I’ll even look for a job working in a

greenhouse.

The world didn’t end when I left college without knowing exactly who I am, and it won’t end in Seattle.

It can be a new beginning.

“Um, Zoe?”

Aya is standing behind me, her hands clasped in front of her. It’s the most toned-down I’ve seen her.

“How’s it going?”

She doesn’t say anything about the conversation she must’ve had with her mom the night before, instead, she holds up the fifth

and final Percy Jackson book. “I’m on the last one,” she tells me. “But I’m reading it reeeaaaaally slowly , because I don’t want it to be over.”

“You can always reread it,” I say.

She looks so incredibly sad then. “But it’ll never be the same as reading it for the first time.”

I remember what she said at her birthday party, about being scared to turn double digits. Maybe Aya and I aren’t so different.

I had a breakdown when I turned ten because I knew I’d never be single digits again, and that thrust me into an existential

crisis about who I’d be in the future.

But I don’t want to think that way anymore. I wasted eighteen years of my life worrying over shit like that, when I could’ve

just been... living my life. I don’t want Aya to feel that way either.

“Okay, how about this?” I ask after a moment. “Do you want to read it really fast?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m not going to.”

“If you want to, you should,” I tell her. “Don’t save the book just because you’re worried you’re going to be sad when it’s over. Trust me, I’ve done that a lot, and it never made me happier.”

She stills, then bursts into tears. I immediately want to take back everything I said and give her a giant hug or, like, a

pile of pugs.

“Oh my god, no, Aya,” I say. “I’m so sorry.” I look on in horror as she cries.

“My mom told me everything,” she says through sobs, the physical, shaky kind I haven’t had since I was a little kid. “And

she said you and Oakley were the ones who wanted her to tell me.”

I have no idea what to do, but I have the unhelpful thought that Oakley would know.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I tell Aya. Then, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind: “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says, frustrated and sniffing back snot and tears.

“You know what?” I say. “You’re right.”

She wipes her eyes and looks at me, surprised.

I know it’s not my place to apologize on Oakley’s behalf, but I at least want to let Aya know how sorry I am about what happened

during her party.

“It’s not okay. Your mom should’ve told you that you were moving to Seattle before now. You’re allowed to be mad. And you’re

allowed to be sad.”

She rubs at her eyes. “If I finish this book fast, that means the train ride will be over,” she says through sniffles. “I

don’t want to leave.”

“But you’re heading to Seattle, right?”

Aya nods, her face red and blotchy. “I don’t even know anything about the city, and I’m gonna live there now.”

“Did you know that I’m from Seattle?”

Her eyes go wide. “You are?”

“Yup,” I tell her. “And I’ll be staying there for a while, so...”

Though her cheeks are still streaked with tears, she smiles at this. “So we can have sleepovers!”

“Maybe,” I say, because not only can’t I imagine a situation in which I, an eighteen-year-old, would be having a sleepover

with a freshly-nine-year-old, but also because there’s very little chance Nanami will let that happen.

Even if I’m not the one who forced her to tell Aya about moving to Seattle, I was still part of it.

“At least you’ll know that I’m close by,” I tell her.

“That sounds nice,” she says, and I agree.

“By the way,” Aya says. “My mom told me to tell you thank you. You know, for the party.”

I’m surprised by this, but try not to show it. “Well, tell her that it was my pleasure.”

“And she said that in the winter we might take the train again and go to Leavenworth!”

“That’s awesome,” I tell her, though I’m still suspicious of Nanami.

Leavenworth is this little town that’s a couple of hours outside of Seattle. It’s popular in the winter because it’s in the

mountains and always gets snow, and it’s designed to look like a quaint Bavarian village.

“This train passes through Leavenworth too!” Aya says. “But we only get to stop for fifteen minutes, and my mom said that’s not enough time to see everything, so that’s why we’re gonna go back.”

“Your mom’s right,” I say, though that gives me an idea.

Because Leavenworth is basically a little European town.

And right before Oakley told me she was rejoining the Church, she told me she had planned to go to Europe. She wanted to see

what she’d only read about in books. Instead, she slept in a crowded hostel in New York.

Maybe she’ll never get there, and maybe we’ll never see each other after this, but we could have this one afternoon.

Thursday, 6 a.m., Chugging through Washington

There are a few things complicating this plan.

The first is that I don’t even know if Oakley’s still on the train. The second is that, like Aya said, the stop in Leavenworth

will only last a few minutes.

But I can work around both of these complications. I have to at least try.

“Goooood morning, my dear old friends,” Edward says over the loudspeaker. “This is your final wake-up announcement from yours

truly, Snack Conductor Edward. For the last morning of this glorious trip, I have sticky buns, bagels, and of course, coffee.

Come on down and say goodbye! I’ll miss you folks!”

For the first time, I’m not vaguely annoyed by Edward’s morning announcement. In fact, he’s exactly who I want to see.

“Assistant Conductor Zoe!” Edward says when I make my way down to the snack car.

“I earned the assistant conductor title?”

“Absolutely,” he says, bowing dramatically. “Where’s Oakley? I was going to bestow assistant-conductor-ship upon her too.”

I stare down at the freshly mopped snack car floor.

“What happened?” he asks. “Did you two get into a fight?” I nod, holding back tears. “Oh, no no no,” he says, coming out from

behind the snack counter to give me a hug. I lean into him, and—no surprise here—he’s an exceptional hugger.

“I don’t even know if she’s still on the train,” I tell him. “She’s from Eastern Washington, so she might be getting off soon.”

He pulls away from the hug and stares at me, confused. “I saw her in the sleeper car a little while ago as I was passing through.

She looked upset, but she was definitely still there.” He laughs to himself. “I guess this explains why she was moping around

the corridor.”

“Edward,” I say, pulling him in for another hug. “I’ve never loved a person more.”

“I’m honored,” he says, blushing, as he retreats behind his counter. “Coffee?”

I nod. “And a sticky bun.”

He grins. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”

When I’m back upstairs, the observation car is fuller than I’ve ever seen it. I can’t blame anyone for wanting to soak in

the last bits of the ride, but I’m not feeling that way. I’ve spent this whole trip staring out the window, and now’s not

the time for that.

Because Oakley’s still on the train.

She didn’t get off near Ritzville. It could just be because the train doesn’t stop there, or that her parents are in Seattle

for some reason, or any number of things she never told me. But still.

I have a chance.

After a few minutes of brainstorming without getting anywhere, I decide to take Virginia up on her offer of knocking on her

bedroom door at any time. I don’t have to do this alone, and Virginia knows more about this train route than I ever will.

I haven’t been in the sleeper car since yesterday, when I was there with Oakley. I push the button that allows me to step

between cars, then hurry over to Virginia’s room, wishing with all my might that I won’t run into Oakley.

“Virginia?” I ask. “You in there?”

“Just a sec!” she shouts from the other side.

She opens the door wearing a bathrobe and slippers, her hair in rollers.

“Did I wake you?”

“No no,” she tells me. “I don’t sleep. Shall we go back to the observation car?”

We do, and once we’ve sunk into our seats, she adjusts her bathrobe. “So, what can I do you for?”

“I have an idea,” I say. “But I need your help.”

She smiles. “Let’s hear it.”

I tell her about Oakley wanting to see Europe and about Leavenworth and the fact that it’s my last chance to make things right

with her.

“You want me to help you delay the train for everyone on Thanksgiving Day?” she asks. “So that you can run around a fake Bavarian city with a girl you just met?”

“Um... yes?”

She grins. “Count me in. It’s not like we were going to arrive in Seattle on time anyway.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?” She says it like I asked her to bring me a cup of coffee, not find a way to stall a cross-country train.

“Do you have any ideas for how to do it?”

“Well, no.” I lace my fingers together. “I thought maybe... you might have some.”

She shakes her head. “Your generation is so lazy, with your phones and medias and this and thats. Back in my day when we wanted

to stop a train, we did it ourselves.”

I raise my eyebrows but don’t say anything.

Finally, she sighs. “Okay, but just this once.” She leans forward and grins conspiratorially. “I was thinking I could fake

a medical emergency.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, I dabbled in acting back when I was a young woman. How hard could it be? A little chest clutching and moaning and they’ll

stop the train for sure.”

We discuss the logistics of the plan, including where exactly Virginia should pretend to have her emergency for maximum train-stopping

time.

“I can only guarantee you forty-five minutes or so,” she says. “Anything beyond that and the conductor will be forced to do a medical evacuation, and I’m not getting in an ambulance this morning.”

“That’s all I need,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she says. “This still has to work.”

She’s right, especially because I don’t even know if Oakley wants to see me. But I need to talk to her. I need to let her

know that, even if she’s going back to the Church, these past few days meant something to me and always will.

And yeah, maybe I need to know if they meant something to her too.

Virginia gathers her bathrobe and stands, but I don’t follow her to the sleeper car. I need to prepare what I’m going to say

to Oakley, and what we can do with forty-five minutes in Leavenworth.

I’m struck with the thought that Oakley would know what to do. That she’d be able to plan all of this without a hitch.

Hopefully I can do the same, since I’m doing it for her.