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Part I This is my town. Sometimes I like to pretend I’m not from around here. Like I came here on vacation or something. Like I’m actually from some third world country so everything I hate about my town, like the concrete and the people and the cars would actually be fascinating and wonderful. Like New York City is the beautiful glittering place everyone thinks it is. Like today. Today I made believe (how do you make belief?) that I’d never seen a building above two floors. Everyone was in such a hurry but I just stopped in the middle of the flow. I bent my neck upwards and spun around slowly with my mouth ajar. The business men slammed briefcases against my elbows and an old Asian woman with a suitcase full of pirated DVD’s and rip off purses cracked at my shins. Everyone looked annoyed. No one dared stop in the middle of rush hour. I wandered and pressed my face on store windows, stroked lamp posts, I laid down in the street to peer in the gutter. The black guy who works 3rd showed me a diamond ring from beneath his jacket and asked me if I was interested. I stammered something in Espanol and smiled apologetically and he stalked away muttering about foreigners. I like to picture myself from above. A boulder in whitewater. I don’t hate my job. I get $6 an hour, less than minimum wage, but it’s under the table. I work mostly on weekends and this gives me just enough cash to support my habits with a pack every couple days and food. Also, after a few hours into my shift, there’s this wonderful point (which is so Zen) when I could not tell you where I was or what I was doing. Where the items blur together and I just keep stacking them and stacking them. And if you asked me I couldn’t tell you why or what I was stacking. But that it was very important. Some may call that extreme boredom but I’d call it an advanced state of mind. That day at work I had achieved supreme mental clarity. I think I was stacking a pyramid of cans. I wasn’t thinking about the pyramid or the people shopping. I wasn’t thinking about anything. A buzzing was coming from all directions but it didn’t bother me. And then my mind recognized a word: “Hey!” I turned my head and tried to focus on a person. “What have you done lately?” I showed him the can I was holding in response. “Is this it for you?” I drifted away. “I need to show you…” “K.”
I snapped out of it as the train whistled. I was holding a can of cream of corn. The boy across from me was bent over with his forehead against the window. His hair was long and dark and his eyes and eyebrows were shaped like sideways teardrops which gave him the look of a stray dog. His face was pale with patches of pink in the wrong spots. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt with a jacket that was checkered red and brown and yellow. Vintage fade. “Yeah, so, where are we going?” His eyes snapped up and I noted how they looked faintly green in the light. “ Maine .” Space. Space. Space. Space. “I can’t believe I ditched work.” “That was necessary. You were in the lowest form of subsisting.” “Excuse me?” “Everyone has life backwards Marion -- you still have your name tag on -- people tack on meaning to things that are ultimately meaningless to the majority. Work, school, buying a house, cars, money, whatever. The suicide rate in the United States rises every year. People have stopped accepting the standards of society. It is a clear connection.” Space. “Well actually that might not be true. Maybe I made that statistic up. It made a compelling argument though.” “Mm.” Space. Silence is so painful. “What’s your name?” “Jaime.” “Great. Hey Jaime. Why are we going to Maine again?” “Because of the meaninglessness of life and stuff.” “Yeah but why Maine ?” I’m annoying myself. “Cause I’ve been planning out something really meaningless to do and it starts in Maine .” “I thought you were trying to be meaningful.” “I am. But whatever society thinks is meaningful is actually meaningless. So I have to think of something society would think is stupid or a waste of time. When I’ve thought of that then I know that thing is really important and fulfilling to my existence.” Space. Space. Space. Space. Space. Space. Space.
“Jaime….Jaime…” “Hmm?” “The conductor says this is the last stop.” “Oh.” Jaime sat up and rubbed his eyes. The window was black. “Alright let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me onto the platform. “Where’d I park…” We stopped in front of an old burgundy piece of crap. Large chunks of paint were scraped off and the hubcaps were rusty and spray painted black. I heard the tinkle of keys and I slid into the car. Through the fuzz of sleep I wondered why I wasn’t in the least afraid of Jaime. This is just the sort of situation where girls are raped and killed. I reclined the seat and rolled towards the window as we pulled away from the station.
“Hey Mare.” “Mm.” “We’re here.” I opened my eyes. It was still completely dark. I rolled out of the car and felt my Cons sink into sand. The waves shone as they crashed on the rocks. “Where are we?” I called over the waves. “Eastport Maine .” Jaime started climbing over the rocks. I took a second to stretch then followed his path. Jaime leapt serenely from rock to rock. The rocks were invisible amongst the algae, seaweed, barnacles, muscles and snails. I tried stepping around the snails and muscles while simultaneously avoiding slipping on the seaweed and algae. I clung to the rocks and slowly crawled my way along the path of rocks Jamie had lighted. When I finally stood beside Jaime and looked back we were at least a half mile from the shoreline. My knees and palms were bloody and stung from the salt. Jaime turned and smiled at me. “It’s coming.” “What is?” “Did you know that the sun rises on the Western Hemisphere and first touches the United States exactly at this point? You’re going to be the first person in the country to touch this day.” I looked at him and felt a tingle behind my nose. “I knew you’d like it. That’s special you know. Not everyone would realize the beauty of being the first thing the sun touches.” A pale green mold blotted the center of the horizon. The stars drifted away as light yellow crept up the sky. Mist, the dregs of night, gathered in between the rocks and near the coast. The sun was really close now. Then, a single arm of light shot across the ocean. The mist solidified the light which hovered beside me. Jaime just smiled as I dipped my finger into the light and drew out a single drop of sun.
“Okay we have to go now.” Jaime turned and began bounding back to shore. “What?” “Part two! Come on!” I scrambled after Jaime but by the time I flopped on the shore he was standing waiting for me. “Get up, get up, let’s go!” Jaime dragged me up into a sprint towards the car. “Get in!” Jaime started the engine. Gulls and sand flew up around the car as we sped away. “What the hell?” The roads were narrow and old. The car rattled and screeched through each curve. I looked at the speedometer…50…60…70… “Jaime! Jaime, slow down! Where are we going?” Jaime looked at me. “ Cape Town , California , we’re going to race the sun across the country.”
“I can’t go to California . I have school on Monday. My dad’s gonna start to wonder where I am. I have work. I can’t just go to California .” “You have to. You were the first one to touch this day. Don’t you want to experience this day in it’s entirety like no one else ever has?” “Oh my god, look at the road. Listen, I’m sorry but you never told me we were going across the country. I never knew about Part 2. You can’t just expect me to drop – Oh god, please slow down.”
Part II I let out a stuttering airy laugh. Even then I realized Jaime couldn't be kidding. “Uh, I can’t go to California . I have school on Monday. My dad’s gonna start to wonder where I am. I have work. I can’t just go to California .” Jaime looked at me and I saw the ecstasy drain from his face. “You have to. You were the first one to touch this day. Don’t you want to experience this day in it’s entirety like no one else ever has?” “Oh god, look at the road. Listen, I’m sorry but you never told me we were going across the country. I never knew about Part 2. You can’t just expect me to drop – Oh Christ, please slow down.” Jaime stopped the car. The tires protested loudly and the seatbelt cut into my chest. He turned on me. “Fine. Get out then.” “Jaime…” “No really. Don’t act like this was my idea. You knew what was going on and now you're too scared to go though with it.” I was shocked. “How could this have possibly been my idea? You took me out of my life and sent me speeding towards the Pacific. I had no clue-” “Oh spare me. That’s such crap. You've known exactly what’s been going on. This is just an act. You’re so incumbent. You can’t do anything yourself. I have to be here to hold your hand if you want to do something as pure as follow the sun. That’s the problem with people you know? Nobody can do anything that someone hasn’t already pre-approved.” Space. Space. Space. I watched the cars stack up across the other side of the highway. That feeling of leaving somewhere that everyone else is rushing to get to is on my top ten list of feelings. I rested my cheek on the door. Out the window I imagined myself gliding next to the car, weaving in and out of trees, lamp posts, reflector sticks. Then something occurred to me. “Uh…Hey, have you ever traveled across the country.” “No.” “I just…like me and Dad drive to Ohio on holidays. And that takes more than a day.” Space. “Jaime?” “Yeah?” “I don’t think we can beat the sun across the country.” “Yes we can.” “No, no we can’t.” “I have it all planned out. I know back roads. It’s fine.” “Uh…still…even if we don’t stop driving and speed and stuff it’s gonna take more—“ Jaime jerked the wheel and the car dipped into the woods next to the highway. The car shook and rattled as Jaime cut a path through the forest. A brief flash of blurred CSI clips and anchormen reported the murders of girls whose bodies were found in secluded places like woods. “Are you crazy?” this wasn’t rhetorical. I wanted a straight out answer. The car gave an enormous buck and glided onto the pavement of a serene and secluded road. Jaime was smiling to himself. I waited. “So, yes then?” “I’m whatever you are Mare.” 16 hours and 35 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset: This road wasn’t like other roads. It wasn’t really made of pavement like most roads are. It was like air. Like the car was flying. Being swept along by wind, pulling us around dips and bends with the grace and fluidity that only wind possesses. I felt a complete oneness with the car, the road, the journey, Jaime. The sun bobbed alongside the car. Darting and weaving through trees and telephone poles. Arms of light peaked through leaves and touched me warmly then retracted quickly as the sun hid behind cliffs and foliage. Like tag…like a kid playing tag. 16 hours and 8 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset: Jaime pulled a garage door opener from the dashboard and began talking into it.
"The race between the great star and Marion and myself is underway. Captain’s log: the sun should be setting in Capetown, California , at 6:21 pm Western time. Which due to the time zones gives us about 16 hours to get there. It is exactly 5:17 am, Eastern Time right now. We began our journey at precisely 4:57 am. Marion will be conducting the official count down till sunset. Marion , you will do the honors won't you?"
"My pleasure, Captain."
"Excellent."
14 hours and 38 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset: “Tell me about yourself.” I’d been waiting for him to ask. I wanted to tell Jaime about everything. I wanted him to know how important this trip was. How different it was from everything else. How everyday for years and years had been a copy of every other day. How each morning I had hoped someone would come up to tell me it was finally tomorrow. I wanted to tell him about my mom leaving when I was two. How she was imbalanced and crazy and as I watch myself turn into her it’s like I get closer and closer to a dead end. I wanted him to know about the boy who stopped loving and the friends who got habits and the father who doesn’t talk. So I told him. But it wasn’t right. I thought I could talk for hours but I only talked for seconds. I could hear myself speaking, the sounds from my mouth sounded confused and silly. I stopped abruptly. I wanted to elaborate but Jaime was laughing.
“What?”
“It’s just…funny that you define yourself by your problems.” He turned his smile to me.
I looked away and laughed.
Everything seems so much bigger in my head. 12 hours and 13 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset: I squinted off into the distance and saw the tiny outline of a man. I hadn't seen a house or even another car since we'd gotten off the highway, let alone a person. The car glided forward and I began to make out a grey business suit, a red tie, a black briefcase. The man was standing on the side of the road staring at the car, slowly, he lifted an arm, his thumb pointing upwards.
"Jaime...let's pick up that man."
Jaime pulled over and I rolled down the window.
"Where you headed?"
"Oh, just down the road a ways would be fine." The man removed his hat as he ducked into the backseat. "Real nice of y’all to pick me up."
"It's no problem. Do you mind me asking what you're doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Well now I've been on all sides of nowhere. The middle is just fine with me." The man was thin and knobby. Even without the hat, his neck was bent to prevent his head from scraping the ceiling. His knees stuck out in uncomfortable angles in order to fit the backseat. His eyelids were large and heavy and drooped over grey irises.
I took another look at his briefcase. "So what do you do exactly?”
"You mean to make money?"
"Yeah. Like for a job."
"Well I'm a freelance statistic gatherer. I count. I count things."
"That's a job?"
"Of course it's a job. It's real important too."
"How do you do it?"
"Right, well, this is how it works. Sometimes magazines will hire me. For instance I got a job with a Cooking magazine out in Austin . They sent me a letter asking me if I could get them a figure of how many people own blenders in the city."
"So you went and counted? Like every single person?"
"Well usually families will collectively own appliances but you have the idea."
"Oh...and how is that important? I mean, of course it is. But you said it was very important."
“Doll, blenders aren’t important, that was an example. Counters cover whole scores of different topics. Think of all the eye opening numbers you read about and you don't even think about the person who counted ‘me up! Take Zachariah Winnfield, counted the 300 millionth person in the United States , single handedly sparked the illegal immigration issue. There’s counters everywhere. Counting all the cans that are thrown away that could've been recycled, all those people living with different types of cancer, the number of abandoned puppies. Counters are unsung heroes. Their lives are devoted to trying to open eyes and put feet and hands into motion.”
"I never even knew people did that."
"Oh yes."
"What are you working on now?”
"Bird lovers weekly wants a figure of parakeet-lovers in America . Which reminds me, you two wouldn't happen to be parakeet-lovers, would you?"
"What would that entail?"
"Well owning a parakeet would of course count. But perhaps you have felt paintings of parakeets, a collection of figurines depicting parakeets, statues, or furniture with parakeets on it or shaped like a parakeet."
Space.
"Nothing?"
"Not me, what about you Jaime?"
"Hmm, I have a Hawaiian shirt with some kind of bird on it."
"Interesting, how often monthly would you say you wear it?"
"Negative three."
The man opened his briefcase and made a few notes.
I craned my neck to see what he was scribbling. His briefcase was overflowing with columns, tallies, figures. It always fascinated me when people could spend so much time doing something so tedious and boring. “Don’t you want to do something important? Like the other things you mentioned counters do?”
The man looked quizzical for a second. He turned his already uncomfortably angled neck towards the window and was silent for a minute. Jaime shot me a look which scolded my lack of finesse. I was about to stammer an apology when the man started talking.
“Well I used to do other things. When I was a younger man I was filled with romantic notions of how I would change the world with my numbers. I began with domestic issues, the number of people living in poverty in the mid-west, the number of people lacking health insurance. Anyways, after about five years I had saved up enough money to travel and start the projects I was really interested in. I went to Africa and counted through the Aids Epidemic, the Rwandan Genocide, and the Sierra-Leon Civil War. When I returned to the States I could feel the huge burden of every single number. Every single one was a face to me, a dead body, an 8 year old soldier. I thought I could relieve the weight when I got back. I didn’t realize upon my return that I’d be counting the biggest number of my career; all the people who didn’t care. Even greater than that was the people who didn’t want to do anything about it. I guess I slipped into a bad state after that. That was 7 years ago. Over the summer I decided to go back into counting. Nothing big though. Weeklies, cooking columns, light stuff.”
Space.
Space.
The man cleared his throat. "Right here should be fine..." Jaime pulled the car over by a large swamp. Small black birds with red breasts darted in between cattails and tall purple flowers. The man unfolded out the car and replaced his hat. He shut the door and patted the car twice. Jaime slowly pulled away from the swamp. In a final glimpse I saw the man wading through cattails.
9 hours and 42 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset:
I turned by head to look out the back window. The sun was drifting slowly behind us. Keeping up pace, but with less vigor and excitement of when we’d first begun the race.
"Hey, you got everything under control here?" I asked.
"Yeah sure."
"Great, I'm going to try and get a little sleep then."
Jaime paused. "I don't think that’s a good idea."
"Why, do you want me to drive?"
Space.
"Jaime?"
"No."
"Okay...I’m just going to nap for a couple hours then."
My head was throbbing. I opened my eyes. The world tipped. I shut my eyes to keep from falling off. I could hear a voice. I opened my eyes. A man was running towards me. He opened the car door and unbuckled my seatbelt.
"Are you alright Miss?"
"Huh?"
"My wife and I live around here. I was out on a walk and saw your car go off the road."
"What. The car?"
"Did you black out and lose control of the car? Miss?"
"Jaime. I was with..."
The man pulled me out of the car. "You look alright. Some scrapes and bruises. And a nice bump on your head. Probably pitched forward and hit the steering wheel."
Something didn't make sense. I looked back at the car. The man had pulled me out of the driver’s side of the car. Why was I sitting in the driver’s seat? Even more troubling was that Jaime was no where to be found. I jerked away from the man and ran around the car. I checked all around it. Under the wheels. Anything. There was no sign of Jaime.
"A boy. Did you see a boy get out of the car.”?
"No miss. I didn't see anyone. Was there someone with you before the accident?"
My throat burned with tears. "Yes." I choked.
The man looked away as I composed myself.
"Well. I don't think your car'll be able to climb up out of the ditch so if you wanna start up the car I'll give her a push. I slid into the car and started the engine. The car rumbled to life without trouble.
"Okay, now ease on the gas real gentle." He called from behind the car.
With the man's help, the car settled on the pavement without much effort.
"I'm sure your cars fine. Do you have anything to eat? Are you tired? Maybe you should sleep and eat a bite before you set off again."
"Yeah, thank you for all your help but I'm in kind of a hurry."
"Well I really think you should--"
"Thank you so much. I really have to go." I shifted the car into drive and pulled away. My mind raced. Where could Jaime be? What if I don't find him? What if he's hurt? Part III
9 hours and 19 minutes till Pacific Coast Sunset: Jaime was sitting in the middle of the road about two miles down. I stopped the car abruptly and jumped out the car. “Where were you?” Jaime slowly got to his feet and walked to the passenger side of the car. “I needed some air. You drive.” I was shocked and paused to think about yelling at Jaime. Relief won out against anger and I slid in beside Jaime. “I was really worried.” “Because you were alone?” “Because I didn't know where you were. I was worried you'd been hurt or something.” “I'm just here as a guide Mare. I don't think you get it. Maybe you should take more of an interest in what’s going on.” It occurred to me that maybe I'd offended Jaime in some way. But what could I have possibly done? “Mare?” “Yeah?” “Did you forget what we're doing?” I looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky. Making definite headway. I floored the gas pedal and the car took off.
4 hours and 2 minutes till Pacific Coast sunset: We picked up a girl. Her hair was a golden sort of brown. Her body was thin in an unhealthy sort of way. A small diamond was embedded on her nose. I noticed all of this fleetingly before being hypnotized by her eyes. They shone and protruded out of a pale, skeletal face. Sunlight bounced off them, creating two small parallelograms at the side. Like she was wearing sunglasses that just weren’t big enough to block out the light. The girl had a piece of tape stuck to her shirt with the words “Ask me who I am” written on it. Jaime sat backwards and cross legged in the passenger’s seat. “So who are you?” “I’m a feeler.” “What’s that?” “I just feel harder than most people. My perception is deeper. I’ve been traveling on my own since I was eight. I study people. How people interact and the connections between them. People don’t realize the power of the energy that they are. What they can achieve. I try to bring clarity.” I didn’t understand. Before I could ask she began to explain. “Like as an example, I just left a town. There was only one newspaper in town. Just about everyone in the town worked in a factory at a bigger town over. Just about everyone took a trolley to work. On that trolley all the people would be immersed in the exact same town paper. But no one talked about the columns and editorials that they all were reading or the job that they all went to or the town that they all lived in. In this way the town was an oddity. But it was bigger than that. I realized it was this way everywhere. Even on big trains where different people were thrown together from different bigger towns no one talked either. No one ever talked about the sun they were all seeing. The space they were all sharing.” I stared at the girl through the rear-view mirror. Her eyes bulged and her eyelids fluttered up and down as she talked. Her eyes flashed towards mine and I quickly focused back on the road. “It’s simple things that anyone can do that can change something like that. All anyone can do is share what they’re feeling. But people are so afraid of what other people will think. Little do they know that so many people have the same thoughts they’re having. It was so wonderful. All I had to do was point out a great gnarled tree that I liked. Everyone collectively looked up from their papers and looked at the tree. Then I said one of the clouds looked like a whale. Then a man responded that the cloud kind of looked more like a stegosaurus. Other people pointed out that they liked how the birds were sitting on the telephone wires. Soon the whole train was playing I spy together. On the way back I talked about an editorial that happened to be written by the ticket handler. No one had known that their ticket puncher also wrote for the town newspaper. People started to compliment him on some of his past work. You could see how happy he was to be recognized. It also sparked a debate. Everyone talked about their views on politics and the environment and the economy. Everyone collectively ripped on the president. People shared ideas and knowledge. People realized how much they could get out of a morning trolley ride.” The girl smiled in recollection. “Something told me that something was waiting for me elsewhere though. So I left that town and hitchhiked on this road. I was right. You’re a very interesting person.” The girl’s eyes suddenly filled the entire rearview mirror. I tried to avoid looking into them. “How do you mean?” “Most people would think you’re the only person in this car. I don’t know if you realize that though. I don’t think you do. But I can see that there are two personalities in this car.” “Uh…I don’t know…like three…it’s me, Jaime, and you.” “Jaime…What are you and Jaime doing?” “We’re racing the sun across the country.” The girl was silent. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. The large orbs were urgently reflecting light. The hollows of the girl’s cheeks pulled in tears. “Are you okay?” “Yes…I just…really like that. I can tell Jaime’s a really positive energy towards you. Just. If I leave you a note will you promise not to read it until you reach your goal?” “Yeah, sure.” “Thank you.” The girl pulled out a journal and scribbled something. She folded it carefully into a small intricate triangle. She reached past Jaime and put the note in the glove compartment. “Okay, I think I should go. I enjoyed meeting you…and Jaime.” I pulled the car to the side of the road and the girl stepped out. As I pulled away her eyes continued to follow me in the rearview mirror.
2 hours and 29 minutes till Pacific Coast Sunset: The sun was winning. It had dipped low to the earth. Sprinting and weaving in utmost determination. It glowed orange with exhaustion. The car wasn't doing nearly as well. The practically non-stop journey had left a sure mark on the old thing. The red hand of the speedometer jerked and shook between 130 and 135. The temperature gage climbed steadily closer to the red. A smell like burnt rubber was seeping through the vents and small streams of smoke could be seen curling about the sides of the hood before the wind took it away. My eyes flicked from the road to each of these nuisances. Jaime was stroking the dashboard fondly. “We're almost there. We're almost there.” He muttered. My fingers tapped the steering wheel nervously. We’re so close.
49 minutes till Pacific Coast Sunset: The car would not finish the journey. The engine died. It rumbled and sputtered as Jaime fiddled with the ignition and then fell silent. I held my breath and watched Jaime climb from the car. Jaime closed the door softly and allowed his hand to linger on the window. Smoke from the engine encircled us and my eyes watered. Jaime looked down at me. “We can still make it. We have to go.” I looked at the sky. The sun had gained much headway. Hidden by the trees. The clouds were illuminated orange and purple. I felt hopeless. “Jaime...it’s so far ahead.” Jaime started running in the direction of the sun. “Jaime?!” Jaime turned and called back “We have to touch the Pacific before the sun does.” I whimpered and reluctantly ran after him. My feet felt heavy and awkward. Each step taking me so small of a distance for so much effort. Jaime was gliding. Each bound appeared effortless. He bolted down streets and spun around corners. As I finally reached them I would see glimpses of him at the end before he swiftly disappeared again. My black lungs, the result of half a years worth of cancer sticks, worked furiously to get oxygen to my heart. But the thought of losing sight of Jaime scared me enough to keep me going. Still the last time I could remember running anywhere had been as a kid in the burbs. I coughed and wheezed onto a long road. Wooden sticks lined a landscape of sand hills and dry grass. At the end of the road Jaime was jogging onto a beach. The beach. The sun was a furious deep orange. It hovered low just above the horizon. Dropping, dropping. Closer and closer to the ocean. I forced my legs into motion. My muscles burned and I choked on my breath. I reached the sloping sand path to the beach and crawled up it on all fours. As I reached the top the sky and ocean opened up before me, unobstructed for the first time. I rolled and flopped down the mound. I reached the bottom and pulled myself up. The sand sucked at my feet as I galloped towards the surf. The finish line bubbled and foamed. Crashing forward then pulling back. I was so close. But exhaustion won out. My foot caught on the sand and I pitched forward onto cold wet sand. Hardly able to breath I knew I wouldn't be able to finish. I lay there, using all my energy to push air in and out my lungs. The surf rolled and crashed. The sound swirled in my head. I became aware of a coolness in my fingertips. I focused my eyes and observed a tip of the Pacific’s tongue twirl between my fingers. I lifted my head and watched as the sun slowly sunk into the ocean. Coming up a hair behind me. Whata race. Who would’ve thought she’d win. The tide rose. A wave swirled around my body. It lifted me up and pulled me out into the sea. I swayed and floated and watched the stars poke through the night. I swam back to shore and didn’t see Jaime. I wandered up and down the beach for a while. I slowly drifted back towards the car. I didn’t see Jaime. I got to the car. It had stopped smoking and I lay on the roof and slept. I didn’t see Jaime. I woke up the next morning and didn’t see Jaime. That morning, when mulling around the car I discovered the note the hitch hiker girl had given me. I un-tucked the first fold of the triangle and slowly unfolded it. The note was scary. Foreboding tension rose up in me. The note was short. It had four words on it. This is what it said:
I can’t see Jaime.
That made me cry.
A few weeks later I would be escorted home by authorities who specialize in the retrieval of missing persons. There, a “doctor” would tell me a really long word that described a condition that I have. He would give me pills that I wouldn’t take because they caused a side effect I liked to refer to as “submission” which is a state I would never naturally revert to. That doctor would also point out that the note left by the hitch hiker girl is in handwriting that is very similar to my own. He would explain to me that the note was my minds’ way of telling me that something was wrong. I told him that nothing was wrong. That Jaime was sent to me to give me the strength to do something different and spectacular. That my mind wanted me to know at the end of the journey, it had been me all along. By losing Jaime I found a lot of myself. I realized the potential of the energy that I am.
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