My father left me ten thousand dollars when he died. I know that in the great scheme of things, this isn't much, but to a kid my age, it seems like enough to last for quite a few years. It was all in the bank, though. Half of it is in a normal savings account with a decent yield, and the other half is invested in a CD that won't come due for another four months. The savings account will be easy enough to empty, and I figured that if I'm desperate for money four months down the line, I can cash the CD as long as I have the account number and internet access.
When I went to the bank to make my arrangements, I found out that, sure enough, my name was the only one both on the savings account and the CD, so even after I'd already left, my aunt and uncle wouldn't be able to freeze my funds in any way. I started up a new checking account and waited for my debit card to come in the mail before doing anything else. It would be worth the wait as long as I'm able to have easy access to money when I need it.
If I'm careful, I should be able to stretch my money for a long time--at least for as long as it takes for me to figure out what I'm going to do next. If I'm careful with what I eat and where I spend my nights, I'll have more than enough cash.
That left me with deciding where I want to go. The answer comes so naturally that I'm surprised it wasn't my plan from the beginning. I'll go to California. If anyone asks me what I'm doing out there, I would tell them that I'm looking for my mother, and I wouldn't be entirely lying. Part of me wants to see her because she is my mother, but the rest of me doesn't want anything to do with her. It wants me to wash my hands clean of her, to do what she had done to me. Still, if I managed to track her down, it would be another place I could stay, another way for me to save a few dollars until I decide what I want out of life.
I would go by bus, just like the kid in Kafka on the Shore. From what I know about buses, it should be a horrible experience, but it will be cheap and less likely that people start asking me questions. I can just mind my own business and read. I'll be invisible, just a boy split family bouncing from one to the other, and no one will be the wiser. I might even fool myself, if only for a little while.
I looked through Dad's old things--albums and address books--looking for anything that might tell me where I can find my mom, even if it's just a city name. Finally, I find something. It's an old Christmas card, one she must have sent about four years ago. There's no return street address, but it's postmarked Los Angeles. I'm not stupid. I know how big that place is and how utterly hopeless it would be to find her if I don't know anything else. I do know that her first name is Mary, but her last name could be anything by now. She could be married again, with another family that knows her by a different last name. It still seems kind of hopeless, but at least it's a place to start. Like I said, I may not even want to see her again.
I checked the bus routes online, planning my trip way in advance. It didn't look like there were any direct shots to California, so I had to settle for one with four separate stops, meaning four different bus changes. That seemed fine by me, even if some of the stops were for half an hour or more. All together, it would take about two and a half days to cross the country this way. I thought that, if nothing else, this would be a good way to see the country.
I took a closer look at the transfers and almost laughed. One of the stops was in Roswell, New Mexico. I'd have to spend two hours there. I knew about the UFO museum and made an immediate mental note to check the place out while I was in town. Maybe I'd get the chance to find some answers to other questions while I was there.
I bought the bus ticket online two weeks before I was ready to leave. These were two weeks I devoted to nothing but preparing myself and hiding my intentions from my aunt and uncle and anyone else who came around. I packed up the old suitcase that had belonged to Dad and hid it away in the back of my closet. It was full of seven days' worth of clothes, including socks and boxers, and a clear plastic bag containing an extra toothbrush, toothpaste, and various other toiletries I thought I might need along the way.
The two weeks passed slowly. It was like waiting for Christmas when I was a kid. It was also a lot like lying in bed, waiting for the light to go away.
When I went to the bank to make my arrangements, I found out that, sure enough, my name was the only one both on the savings account and the CD, so even after I'd already left, my aunt and uncle wouldn't be able to freeze my funds in any way. I started up a new checking account and waited for my debit card to come in the mail before doing anything else. It would be worth the wait as long as I'm able to have easy access to money when I need it.
If I'm careful, I should be able to stretch my money for a long time--at least for as long as it takes for me to figure out what I'm going to do next. If I'm careful with what I eat and where I spend my nights, I'll have more than enough cash.
That left me with deciding where I want to go. The answer comes so naturally that I'm surprised it wasn't my plan from the beginning. I'll go to California. If anyone asks me what I'm doing out there, I would tell them that I'm looking for my mother, and I wouldn't be entirely lying. Part of me wants to see her because she is my mother, but the rest of me doesn't want anything to do with her. It wants me to wash my hands clean of her, to do what she had done to me. Still, if I managed to track her down, it would be another place I could stay, another way for me to save a few dollars until I decide what I want out of life.
I would go by bus, just like the kid in Kafka on the Shore. From what I know about buses, it should be a horrible experience, but it will be cheap and less likely that people start asking me questions. I can just mind my own business and read. I'll be invisible, just a boy split family bouncing from one to the other, and no one will be the wiser. I might even fool myself, if only for a little while.
I looked through Dad's old things--albums and address books--looking for anything that might tell me where I can find my mom, even if it's just a city name. Finally, I find something. It's an old Christmas card, one she must have sent about four years ago. There's no return street address, but it's postmarked Los Angeles. I'm not stupid. I know how big that place is and how utterly hopeless it would be to find her if I don't know anything else. I do know that her first name is Mary, but her last name could be anything by now. She could be married again, with another family that knows her by a different last name. It still seems kind of hopeless, but at least it's a place to start. Like I said, I may not even want to see her again.
I checked the bus routes online, planning my trip way in advance. It didn't look like there were any direct shots to California, so I had to settle for one with four separate stops, meaning four different bus changes. That seemed fine by me, even if some of the stops were for half an hour or more. All together, it would take about two and a half days to cross the country this way. I thought that, if nothing else, this would be a good way to see the country.
I took a closer look at the transfers and almost laughed. One of the stops was in Roswell, New Mexico. I'd have to spend two hours there. I knew about the UFO museum and made an immediate mental note to check the place out while I was in town. Maybe I'd get the chance to find some answers to other questions while I was there.
I bought the bus ticket online two weeks before I was ready to leave. These were two weeks I devoted to nothing but preparing myself and hiding my intentions from my aunt and uncle and anyone else who came around. I packed up the old suitcase that had belonged to Dad and hid it away in the back of my closet. It was full of seven days' worth of clothes, including socks and boxers, and a clear plastic bag containing an extra toothbrush, toothpaste, and various other toiletries I thought I might need along the way.
The two weeks passed slowly. It was like waiting for Christmas when I was a kid. It was also a lot like lying in bed, waiting for the light to go away.
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