Part Three: A Second Chance.
Three hours later, I found myself still lost and with no hope of finding a friendly face to ask for assistance. I was further into the city by now and not entirely sure I could even find my way back to the depot at this point. Searching the street signs as I walked one block after another, I tried to recall the address of the train station. My mind fell completely blank. I couldn't remember anything. Finally, I stumbled upon a slightly less than shady establishment. As the sun set in the western sky, I slipped inside the door of the Life Café.
Inside I sank into the red seat of a booth and pulled out my ratty notebook. With pen poised, I contemplated what to write. I didn't get too far before a waitress in black leggings and an oversized t-shirt came to take my order.
"What'll be?" She slurred.
"Coffee. Black." I answered quickly turning back to my notebook.
"So, you take you coffee black, huh?" I looked up to find Mark standing next to my booth. Without permission he sat down and flagged down the waitress to order a tea with honey.
"Well, just make yourself at home" I snapped closing my notebook and stuffing it back into the pocket of my jeans.
"Look, I want to apologize for earlier," Mark started.
"So, you decided stalking was best?" I interrupted. Looking around I started to feel rather nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings.
"No, actually, this is just dumb luck." He smiled. "Honestly though, I guess I forget that not everyone gets my weird sense of humor. I wasn't trying to be mean or scary or anything. I was just, well, oh come, give me a break. It was funny."
"Whatever," I said attempting to look anywhere but directly at the filmmaker.
"Alright, fine. I surrender. I'm a jackass and I'm sorry." I merely nodded at his words. Silence set in soon after.
"So, still lost?" Mark said breaking the silence. I fixed him with a glare.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Look," I started as the waitress came back with our drinks. "Do you think you can at least point me in the direction of the train station?"
"Leaving us so soon?" Mark asked with a knowing smile.
"No." I replied a little too quickly. Blowing lightly on my coffee, I took a sip.
"I can take you there if you'd like," he offered. I searched the young man sitting across from me for a moment. Here I was, the only girl at Woodstown High School that could tip a cow by herself scared of the scrawny little Jewish boy from New York City.
"Fine," I finally answered.
"So, the depot is your destination for what purpose?" Mark inquired.
"If you must know, and since you don't seem to believe in privacy or silence for that matter, I have no where else to go. Besides, all my stuff is still locked up in a locker there." This Mark guy was really starting to piss me off.
"You're going to stay at the train station?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Good a place as any," I replied defiantly. Take that, I thought.
"Look, Jo, I know you don't like me very much but believe when I tell you that you don't want to do that. Hell, I don't want to do that and you've seen where I sleep."
"Why not? People do it all the time."
"Whatever." Mark replied finishing his tea. "Ready?"
"Sure." I slipped a few ones from my pockets and placed them on the table, "It's on me."
54 blocks north and 2 blocks west later, we were at the train station. Ready to depart from Mark I quickly ascended the steps into the depot shouting a thanks and goodbye over my shoulder. I wasn't until I made it inside that I realized Mark was still behind me.
"What are you doing?" I barked at him.
"I'm not letting you stay here."
"I'll be fine. What the hell do you care anyways?"
"Look, go home, just don't stay here, ok?" he asserted. He looked me right in the eye when he said this and I wanted to hate him for it, but something in that look told me that I should trust him.
"I can't go back." I whispered sitting down on a worn plastic seat.
"Sure you can. You've barely been gone a day,"
"You don't understand. I can't go back." I felt the tears forming at the corners of my eyes, "You don't know what it was like. I was born into a world I wanted nothing to do with. I have spent my entire life chasing other people's dreams because of it. I can't be that girl. I can't be that person. I did not want to be the harvest queen. I don't want to marry Bobby Dean or Billy Ryan when school is done. I don't want a houseful of kids and chickens to feed. I had to get out. I couldn't be bound to that life that traps a person inside herself." Before I could stop myself I was crying. I sank further into the chair sobbing, "I can't go back. I can't go back."
Even in the midst of my breakdown, I watched as Mark contemplated what to do next. His gaze shifted nervously from his camera to me deciding whether to capture the destruction of a teen on the edge or to comfort me. Setting his camera carefully on the curb beside me he sat down on the curb and placed an awkward hand on my shoulder patting me nervously. I wasn't sure what to do, my breath hitched slightly as fresh tears streamed down my chapped cheeks.
"I mean I know I must sound really dumb, and selfish. I was the lonely girl in the crowd of people, blah, blah, blah. I had everything I needed in that life but nothing I wanted, blah, blah, blah. But, I just couldn't face another day of it. God, I hate myself for this. I just couldn't take it anymore."
Mark hand was steady now as it swirled into small circles across my back. "I can't believe I'm doing this. What the fuck am I doing here? I have nothing. I ran away from everything."
"It's okay. What is everything, anyways? Maybe this nothing can turn out to be your everything?" Mark supplied, wiping my cheeks with his free hand.
"What?" I laughed through my tears at his awkward expression.
"I don't know. Crying girls make me nervous," Mark smiled.