Sunday is the last day of the gathering. I wake up at
5, perhaps I am still on route time. I lace up my reeboks and circle the
carpeted contours of the hotel floor in a light flurry. I think about how cool
my dad is to do the route when I am gone. When I am done I back in the room
where Eggplant Elmore and Hale are still out for the count. Unlike last night
Hale’s snoring has subsided where he only gutturally seems to inhale gravel
every six or so exchanged breaths. It is March 21st. Exactly one
month from now I will be entering my final day of England. From the balcony of
our hotel room I see the industrial spatter of the L-train shooting from O’hare
into the nylon tint of the city.
The city looks like a geometrical sail.
***
***
“So are you in love with that girl now? The small one. The one from Wisconsin.”
“She told me she had a boyfriend. She told me she is going to college in a couple of months.”
“Yeah, but she was dancing with her head pressed against your chest. It’s like you were cradling her.”
I don’t know what to think. I can tell that Eggplant is ready to suggest that none of these girls are hotter than Renae only feeling I should retort by bringing up a ‘you-would-know you were masturbating to the pic-of-my-ex.' It is the final morning of the conference. We are leaving at noon to go back home.
I’ll find that red headed girl.
I turn toward Eggplant Elmore.
I tell him I will find the red headed girl once again.
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