go?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll figure it out.”
I waited, expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. Arguing is what Evan did, not Wilbur.
“All right. I understand. I’ll fly you back up.”
I couldn’t stay there anymore. Something in Havasupai was making me feel as though I was going crazy—sick in mind and body.
We were silent as we packed up our gear and returned to the lodge what we had borrowed. After that, I knocked on Irma’s door with her regalia in hand. I considered just leaving it at the lodge and asking someone to return it for me; my fight-or-flight instinct was dominating all my actions by that point. But I didn’t want to be rude since she had been unusually generous with me. She opened the door with a clearly uncharacteristic smile.
“Good morning, Irma,” I managed a faked smile in return. “Thank you so much for loaning this to me.”
“You are welcome. Will I being seeing you again?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I have to leave right now.”
She winked and smiled before slowly closing the door. Her smug expression told me she knew something she wasn’t willing to share. I walked away from her house feeling even more agitated than when I’d arrived.
After a helicopter flight and car ride, it seemed like it had been an eternity before we arrived at the train station in Grand Canyon National Park. After our silent and awkward journey, the cashier informed me that I could buy a train ticket with cash and without any identification. This would allow me to keep Evan in the dark as to my whereabouts. It was more important to me than ever that I remain elusive.
“Can I call you?” Wilbur asked.
“I don’t have a phone, remember?”
“What if I got you one of those pay-as-you-go phones that aren’t as easy to trace?”
“Like drug dealers use?”
“At least then, in case of an emergency...”
I agreed it would be sensible to get another phone, but I didn’t want to be sensible. A part of me wanted to keep in touch with Wilbur, the part that wished I’d met him in another fantasy existence. One’s end-of-life agenda should not include falling for someone new, even if that someone would have been perfect when I was uncomplicated and healthy.
After we traded strained goodbyes, I approached the ticket window with no particular destination in mind. As it turned out, the train only traveled to one place anyway: Williams, Arizona. Williams’ claim to fame was that it was situated along Historic Route 66, and that it was nicknamed “The Gateway to the Grand Canyon.” Only, I was looking for the gateway out .
I spent the short train ride racking my brain to formulate a plan—consciously refusing to think about Wilbur, but subconsciously, failing miserably. I needed a computer. Jerry had always insisted that Google provides the answer to everything. When I exited the train in Williams, I asked a young woman where I might be able to get onto a computer. She aimed me in the direction of an Internet café, at which I arrived after a ten-minute walk.
All that the Internet café had to offer, besides online access, was coffee and pretentious coffee-related products, tea, and pastries. I had been a coffee drinker at one time, but since my illness had taken over, I found even the smell of it revolting. Then there was tea: Even the thought of it made me cringe. Every time I looked a little green or under the weather at work, the annoying office manager, Margaret, would try to shove tea at me. I hated tea almost as much as I hated her. Drinking raw sewage sounded more appealing. I settled for a doughnut and a bottle of water.
I stared blankly at the computer, hoping some Divine inspiration would hijack my mind and create a plan of action. I knew with reasonable certainty that I didn’t wish to live out my days in Williams, Arizona. I began to Google things like “bucket-list destinations” and “100 places to see before you die,” but nothing illuminated that
“I’m not sure, but I’ll figure it out.”
I waited, expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. Arguing is what Evan did, not Wilbur.
“All right. I understand. I’ll fly you back up.”
I couldn’t stay there anymore. Something in Havasupai was making me feel as though I was going crazy—sick in mind and body.
We were silent as we packed up our gear and returned to the lodge what we had borrowed. After that, I knocked on Irma’s door with her regalia in hand. I considered just leaving it at the lodge and asking someone to return it for me; my fight-or-flight instinct was dominating all my actions by that point. But I didn’t want to be rude since she had been unusually generous with me. She opened the door with a clearly uncharacteristic smile.
“Good morning, Irma,” I managed a faked smile in return. “Thank you so much for loaning this to me.”
“You are welcome. Will I being seeing you again?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I have to leave right now.”
She winked and smiled before slowly closing the door. Her smug expression told me she knew something she wasn’t willing to share. I walked away from her house feeling even more agitated than when I’d arrived.
After a helicopter flight and car ride, it seemed like it had been an eternity before we arrived at the train station in Grand Canyon National Park. After our silent and awkward journey, the cashier informed me that I could buy a train ticket with cash and without any identification. This would allow me to keep Evan in the dark as to my whereabouts. It was more important to me than ever that I remain elusive.
“Can I call you?” Wilbur asked.
“I don’t have a phone, remember?”
“What if I got you one of those pay-as-you-go phones that aren’t as easy to trace?”
“Like drug dealers use?”
“At least then, in case of an emergency...”
I agreed it would be sensible to get another phone, but I didn’t want to be sensible. A part of me wanted to keep in touch with Wilbur, the part that wished I’d met him in another fantasy existence. One’s end-of-life agenda should not include falling for someone new, even if that someone would have been perfect when I was uncomplicated and healthy.
After we traded strained goodbyes, I approached the ticket window with no particular destination in mind. As it turned out, the train only traveled to one place anyway: Williams, Arizona. Williams’ claim to fame was that it was situated along Historic Route 66, and that it was nicknamed “The Gateway to the Grand Canyon.” Only, I was looking for the gateway out .
I spent the short train ride racking my brain to formulate a plan—consciously refusing to think about Wilbur, but subconsciously, failing miserably. I needed a computer. Jerry had always insisted that Google provides the answer to everything. When I exited the train in Williams, I asked a young woman where I might be able to get onto a computer. She aimed me in the direction of an Internet café, at which I arrived after a ten-minute walk.
All that the Internet café had to offer, besides online access, was coffee and pretentious coffee-related products, tea, and pastries. I had been a coffee drinker at one time, but since my illness had taken over, I found even the smell of it revolting. Then there was tea: Even the thought of it made me cringe. Every time I looked a little green or under the weather at work, the annoying office manager, Margaret, would try to shove tea at me. I hated tea almost as much as I hated her. Drinking raw sewage sounded more appealing. I settled for a doughnut and a bottle of water.
I stared blankly at the computer, hoping some Divine inspiration would hijack my mind and create a plan of action. I knew with reasonable certainty that I didn’t wish to live out my days in Williams, Arizona. I began to Google things like “bucket-list destinations” and “100 places to see before you die,” but nothing illuminated that
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