Page 77 of Leaving the Station

“And how you don’t seem to agree with a lot of the stuff you talk about in regard to Mormonism?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why are you going back?” I ask, and it comes out like a plea. “If you have these beliefs that so deeply contradict your church’s then... why?”

“Community,” she says automatically. “I already told you.”

She’s looking down now, picking at a piece of lint on her sock.

I knew that’s what she was going to say. It’s what she told me before. And maybe that should be answer enough.

I haven’t found community anywhere. I barely had any friends in high school except for my Science Olympiad teammates, and I gave up what little community I had in college to be with Alden.

“Community is literally the basis of Mormonism. Joseph Smith wanted to create a holy city on Earth; that was his main goal for a while. He was relentless about it. He wanted it to be walkable, he wanted everyone to live near each other, and to have room for farms and gardens within the grid.” She thinks for a moment, then adds, “He wanted people to live communally. Andthat didn’t stop with him. When I got baptized, I pledged to bear others’ burdens and to mourn when they mourn. There are parts of it that are beautiful.”

It’s the closest she’s come to proselytizing, but what she describeddoessound beautiful.

“And there are bad parts, of course,” Oakley continues. “I know that’s what you’re thinking right now. But it’s not all bad.” She picks at a perfectly groomed fingernail. “And it’s my home. My ward has always been my family. They’re so kind, and we’re always there for each other. It’s just that the beliefs that guide them are sometimes not exactly whatIpersonally believe.”

“But aren’t the beliefs the biggest part of it?” I ask, not able to let this go. “Those are what supposedly connect all of you, aren’t they?”

“Do you follow each of the six hundred thirteen Jewish laws?” she snaps back. “There’s one that says not to engage in astrology, but you know your sign. And do you pay a half-shekel temple tax? That’s one of the laws as well.”

I want to laugh, but I don’t. She knows too much, and she’s deadly serious. “No,” I tell her. “I don’t do most of that stuff. But I’m still Jewish. I stillfeelJewish.”

“There you go,” she says. “That’s how I feel about Mormonism.”

“But it’s different!” I nearly yell, anger bubbling to the surface.

“How?” she asks, unnervingly calm. “Because my religion is newer?”

“You know that’s not why.”

This is the first time in my entire life that I’ve felt happy beingwho I am, where I am. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to escape.

But there’s a set end date: tomorrow when the train pulls into King Street Station in Seattle. And I can’t even tell Oakley how I feel about all of this because she’s hell-bent on going back to Mormonism.

None of what has happened here means anything to her; it’s just a blip in her eternal life.

Fourteen

Wednesday, 4 p.m., leaving Havre, MT

“All right, she’s gone,” I whisper-yell to the other people in the observation car. We were waiting for Aya to finish her conversation with Oakley about the fourth Percy Jackson book. We wound up waiting alongtime, but—at least for me—it was worth it to see the joy on their faces as they talked about a series they both love.

The plan was to then have Oakley suggest that Aya rest in her room for anywhere from one to three hours. Nanami wasveryon board with this idea.

Now Aya’s reluctantly back in the sleeper car, and Oakley and Floor-Sleeper Jeff and Mike and everyone else who usually hangs out in the observation car and I are in here frantically getting decorations set up.

Oakley tosses Jeff the streamers and he wraps them around every available surface. I distribute party hats throughout the car, then stick one on my head and hand another to Oakley.

“Put it on,” I nudge her.

She snaps it under her chin.

I lean into her. “You look very cute.”

“I feel like a dunce.”