When she left, I turned back to my calculator, starting to add again. Halfway down the row of numbers, though, I stopped and sat as still as I could, listening hard to see if the conversation would double back to where it had been before. When it didn’t, I bent back over my numbers, punching them in slowly this time, one by one by one, so as not to make the same mistake again.
By midnight, I’d already walked the boardwalk and driven a full loop of Colby proper, and still had a few hours before I even wanted to think about going home. Clearly, I needed coffee. So I headed to the Gas/Gro.
I had just parked and was digging in my ashtray for change when I heard an engine zooming up behind me. When I looked up, a beat-up green truck was pulling in a few spaces down. Even before I saw the bikes piled in the back I recognized the short, stocky guy behind the wheel, and Adam, Maggie’s friend, beside him. They cut the engine and hopped out, going inside. After a moment, I followed them.
The Gas/Gro was small but clean, with neat aisles and not too bright lighting. I went straight to the full-strength GroRoast, as was my habit, pulling out the biggest cup and filling it up. Adam and his friend were at the other end of the store, by the coolers, where they grabbed drinks before proceeding to the candy aisle.
‘Goobers,’ Adam was saying as I added a bit of cream to my cup. ‘Twizzlers. And… let me see. Maybe Junior Mints?’
‘You know,’ his friend said, ‘you don’t have to name each item out loud.’
‘It’s my process, okay? I make better decisions when I vocalize as I do it.’
‘Well, it’s annoying. At least do it quietly.’
I put a lid on my cup, making sure it was secure, then started for the register, where a heavyset woman was buying some lottery tickets. A moment later, they stepped up behind me. I could see them in the mirrored reflection of the cigarette ad over our heads.
‘One fourteen,’ the clerk said, ringing me up.
I slid my exact change over, then reached for my cup. As I turned, Adam said, ‘Hey, I thought you looked familiar! You, um… work at Clementine’s, right?’
I knew that um. It was obvious my one night of bad judgment had branded me as The Girl Who Hooked up with Jake, although Adam was nice enough to not say this, at least to my face. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I do.’
‘Adam,’ he said, pointing to himself. ‘And this is Wallace.’
‘Auden,’ I told him.
‘Look at that,’ Adam said, nudging him. ‘She bought a single cup of coffee. Such restraint!’
‘No kidding,’ Wallace said as they dumped their collective items onto the counter. ‘Who can come to the Gas/Gro and only buy one thing?’
‘Well,’ Adam said as the clerk began ringing things up, ‘she’s not from here.’
‘This is true.’ Wallace glanced at me. ‘No offense, of course. It’s just that we’re –’
‘Store-goers,’ I finished for him, without even thinking. He looked surprised, then exchanged a smile with Adam. ‘Exactly.’
‘That’ll be fifteen eighty-five,’ the clerk said, and as they dug in their pockets, pulling out crumpled bills, I took the opportunity to slip out, back to my car. A moment later, they emerged, each carrying a bag, and climbed into the truck. I watched them back out, their lights moving across me as they pulled away.
I sat there and drank my coffee for a little while, considering my options. There was always the all-night diner. Or another loop around Colby. I glanced at my watch: only 12:15. So many hours to fill, and so little to do it with. Maybe it was for this reason that I found myself pulling out, turning in the direction they’d gone. Not looking for Bigfoot, necessarily. Just something.
? ? ?
It wasn’t hard to find the jump park. All you had to do was follow the bikes.
They were everywhere. Crowding the narrow sidewalks, on racks on the backs of cars, or sticking up from rails on the roof. I stuck close to an old Volkswagen van with a bright orange one hanging off it, following as it turned into a big lot two or three streets away from the beach. As I parked, I could see some bleachers bordered by two huge lights, which were shining down on a row of jumps, ramps made out of logs, and sand. Every once in a while, you’d see someone on a bike rise up above the sight line, suspended in midair for just a moment before disappearing again.
There was also an oval track made up of various types of berms, which some people were circling, and down from that, two large, curved ramps facing each other. I sat in my car for a moment, watching someone in a black helmet ride down one side, then up the other, back and forth, mesmerized, as if someone were swinging a watch on a chain before my eyes. Then someone slammed the door on the Volkswagen, jerking me back to attention.