"That's great. I'm happy for you guys. I really am." The weird thing was I actually was happy for them. I knew Vicky had high standards for any guy she'd fool with. The way she dropped me like a bad habit was proof of her sense of worth. Her confidence and intelligence were what attracted me to her in the first place. And James seemed like a pretty good guy. I kinda hated him for it, but in a way, I was glad Vicky had someone genuine by her side.
"Listen, I gotta jet. Got some more people to see and all."
"Oh yeah. I can only imagine. Take care of yourself, man."
"You too." I turned to Vicky and offered my hand. "Guess this is goodbye."
"Get out of here with the hand." She swatted it away and stepped in for a hug. "Take care of yourself," she whispered in my ear.
I nodded, trying not to choke up as I practically tore a hole in the rug trying to get the hell out of there. I felt like such a fool. I'd walked ten miles to pour my heart out and give away my Haven lottery pick to someone I thought I was in love with. Only to have the whole dream melt away like a sugar cube tossed in a bowl of acid.
I'd made it a few yards from the house when James' voice stopped me.
"Hey."
I turned around. James had a confused expression on his face. "You need a ride or something?"
My cheeks burned. "No. I got one."
He looked around. "You sure?"
"I mean I got one coming. She's going to meet me on the way."
"I hear you, man. You sure you don't wanna stick around here and wait?"
That was about the last thing I wanted to do, other than set myself on fire and jump on a bed of icy hot needles. I didn't say that, though. I just waved a hand and kept walking. James was a smart guy. Figured he'd get the message.
As soon as I cleared the corner, I started running. No planning, no clue of direction or purpose. Legs burning, chest heaving, driven only by the instinctive need to put as much distance between myself and Vicky as my legs allowed. I ran, cursing every love song I'd ever heard, every stupid poem I'd ever written. I kept running, cursing myself for being the biggest idiot the world had ever seen.
It's funny how we fool ourselves. I'd been so concerned with obsessing over Vicky that I never took the time to consider how she felt. I just assumed she must have felt like I did, never bothering to imagine that maybe it wasn't such a big deal to her. I was twenty years old; she was eighteen. Which meant she was at least twice as mature as me at the time. She had left the past behind, left me behind, and moved on while I still held on to some childish high school fantasy that was only real in my mind.
My vision blurred, but I told myself it was just the wind kicking dust in my eyes. Maybe that was why I didn't see the upturned piece of sidewalk that caught my foot and sent my face on a collision course with the concrete.
The sudden impact with the ground made my mind up.
6
I caught the first shuttle that came by. I figured I'd be better off leaving right then and there than sticking around and risking another humiliating experience. The shuttle took me downtown where I made my way through the crowds and boarded the tram leaving for Los Angeles. I took a seat as far away as I could from everyone, but more and more passengers boarded until all the seats were taken. I avoided eye contact completely, hoping no one would recognize me or try to strike up some boring conversation.
"You okay, son?"
People really don't get a clue sometimes. You'd think if you were riding on a tram with your face badly bruised and a sour look on your face, it's a clear sign that you don't want to be bothered. But that's always the time when someone will come out of the blue to interrupt your peace of mind. I swear, it's like an unwritten rule. I even had sunglasses on and my earbuds firmly in place, but that still didn't stop the guy sitting next to me from completely invading my bubble of solitude.
He was the oldest man I'd ever seen. Just a hunched, wrinkled piece of sentient beef jerky. I couldn't even guess his ethnicity, because I was sure the crusty, yellowish shade of skin color wasn't the one he was born with. He kept on talking, forcing me to turn my music off. I didn't want to be rude or anything, but I hoped he would see the stressed expression my face and get a hint.
He didn't.
"Oh, you were listening to your music? Sorry, didn't wanna interrupt." He yelled every word like we were miles apart. I figured he was hard of hearing, but it was pretty embarrassing. Everyone on the shuttle couldn't help but hear everything he said.
I gave him a slight nod and would have put the buds back in my ears, but he kept on talking.
"You get beat up or something? You look like someone took a dislike to your face and decided to fix it with a crowbar." He gave a wheezing chuckle at his ingenuity.
"I tripped and fell."
"You fell? On what, somebody's fist? Take a piece of advice from an old man — you gotta be more inventive than that." He winked a watery eye.
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
"You're the kid, ain'tcha? The one who won the lottery."
I hunched my shoulders, peering around. Sure enough, people stared at us, nudging one another and pointing. I sank further into my seat.
"Not trying to announce it to the world."
He nodded but kept yelling at the top of his lungs. "Yeah, I saw you on the news. Biggest eyes in the world. Like a deer in the headlights. You looked like you wanted to give your pick away. Like you didn’t even want it." He choked on a fit of raspy laughter.
A synthetic voice announced the imminent takeoff over the intercom. The seatbelts buckled automatically.
The old man leaned back with a contented smile. "So you're going to the Haven? Pushing it to the last minute, ain'tcha? Last shuttle leaves Monday."
I sighed. "Saying goodbyes. Victory lap and all."
The shuttle shot from the station. I stared out the window as it accelerated to its top speed. At six hundred miles per hour, there was nothing to see other than disorienting blurs. We'd go from San Bernardino to the Haven in Los Angeles in a matter of minutes. The sensation of hurtling at suicidal speeds was oblivious inside of the train. It was a peaceful, buoyant sensation.
Well, it would have been if not for the nonstop conversation.
"Yeah, I'm going to the Haven myself. I take the train ride there every weekend."
I glanced over at him. "You do? Why?"
"Same reason as everyone else. Someone misses their window then their residency goes to someone else. You gotta be there in person to get your chance, though."
"I thought only Haven employees or residents are allowed on the tram."
"I’m retired. I was a chief engineer when the Havens were in the planning stage. Drew up some blueprints, broke ground at Haven Core in New York. Then employees of a certain age were given the boot. Can't blame 'em. It's just how nature works. Elderly, infants and the sick always get shafted in times of disaster. So I was out but still retained a few privileges. Know a few people. Pull a few strings here and there, like getting me a pass on the tram so I can see about possibly cashing in on someone else's no-show."
I didn't ask out loud, but I sure wondered why the old fossil would even want the chance. Even if he got a golden ticket, he probably wouldn't survive the hibernation process. Or he's wake up a couple of hundred years from now and keel over dead five minutes later.
He looked at my expression and barked a laugh. "You think I'm too old to worry about the future, ain'tcha?"