I paused at the door for a moment as I found my key and engaged the lock.
I knew we weren’t going to talk about what had just happened, not that I had the words for it.
Maybe I’ll just stand here and never turn around.
Stand in the street outside the door and let the snow fall on me until something happens.
What, I don’t know.
When I turned around she was standing near the curb, her back to me, her black hair let down long over her leather jacket.
The snow was picking up and regardless I wasn’t about to let her wait alone at the train station this late at night.
I offered to drive her over to the station and we could wait in the car.
The ride over was quiet as if what had happened was settling between us, as I parked right in front of the platform.
She started to talk about California and I was eager to listen as the only thing I knew during our time together was that she left there for here.
Her favorite beach, how the beaches here were different.
How the cool breeze rolled off the mountains, that it had a different texture here.
I just listened.
The park not far from where she grew up, the canyons there were where she would often find herself just sitting for hours.
The feeling of those places.
When her train arrived it slowly rolled in and stopped before the car.
Our eyes both glanced at it, but neither of our hands moved for the car door.
She asked if Gambit really was my favorite.
This debate again, what I was happy to revisit.
Gambit and Shadowcat, the merits of both, and what that team up might look like.
The next train came and went and I pretended not to notice.
When the conversation turned to Dolph Lundgren the best she could counter with was Van Damme.
How about the movies this Friday?
My silence in the moment was not hesitation but surprise that she asked me.
Absolutely.
It was the third time I saw her smile.
A tinny announcement over the platform speaker that the last train for the night had left.
I didn’t know the street she gave, but if it was near the library she could guide me from there and I’d find it.
As I drove I was relieved to use the excuse of driving and concentrating on the falling snow to not look at her. Yet despite that, even as there were periods of silence the ride never felt quiet.
It took about ten minutes to get to the library and from here she guided me down one street and then off another exit as our conversation picked back up.
Another turn.
Another exit.
Hesitation and a small glance over at me.
Did I realize?
Of course I did.
I’ve lived my entire life around here and she had me driving in circles.
Could I have been wrong in that I didn’t want the night to end either?
I wasn’t about to take that risk, so the new plan was just to keep driving and I guess run out of gas.
Her place was an old stone house on a private street with no name and no house number. 3 AM and completely dark, I pulled over to the side to give me a few more seconds to prepare something to say.
She made it easy, abruptly ending the conversation and telling me she had to go.
Now.
I was going to ask her what time for Friday’s movie, but there was a sudden distance around her.
A distance that had already announced that she was gone.
Everything in me wanted to walk her to the door, maybe say something, confess something, but the fact that I stayed in the car went against everything I was and had become from the dojo.
In this situation it was the right wrong thing to do.
Did I know I only had a few more seconds to commit her to memory?
The car door closed silently behind her, and she walked across the snow, up the steps of the front porch and through the door of the dark house without ever looking back.
I expected to see a light come on, one of the rooms or a hallway, but the house just remained dark.
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