Fuck with me and Ill fuck with you/Isnt that what were supposed to do?
I dont know how much of the hour Ive killed when, over the music, I hear Lisa calling my name. I try to pull myself out of a semi-sleepy stupor and I almost succeed by the time she sits down beside me. We lock eyes briefly and then I look away and I think she does too. We dont say anything for a while.

"Dont leave yet. Stick around for a few hours, Derek."

"No. No, Im done. This wasnt a good idea, Lisa. I dont know what I came up here for, but it sure wasnt to chaperone a nympho dope fiend."

She lets that one sit there for a beat or two before snickering softly. "Good thing you dont know any then, isnt it?"

I shrug. "What do you really want from me, anyway?"

She looks out at the tracks, first head-on and then swivels her head to gaze at the path they beat north to Redding. "Just a mellow day. Just to walk around town in the sun and let the craziness melt away."

I smirk. "Thatll probably take longer than a day."

"Oh shit, Derek. Im sorry, okay? I dont know what the fuck is wrong with me. Ive been in the worst, worst place for months now. I really need to chill out and just not think about anything that I dont need to."

"Well, I dont see why you need me around to do that."

Now she shrugs. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Youre not a very empathetic little bastard, are you? No, youre not, but you dont fly off the handle about anything, either. Heavy shit just rolls off your back like its trivial and worthless, and believe it or not, thats not uncomfortable to have around, you know? I mean, sometimes I get a hint of how meaningless any melodrama in my life can really be, and that sometimes is usually when I tell you about it and it has no effect on you at all."

I try to concentrate on the feeling of unaffected meaninglessness she exudes, but it evaporates too quickly, and I cant bring myself to care enough. Well, shes not stupid, this one. She nailed me to the fucking wall.
Lisa laughs. "See? You just did it again. Some people might think thats callous or cruel, but I dont. I like it. I like you."

"You dont like me. You just like the idea of me."

"Huh?"

"You heard me. You like the idea of me. You like the idea that Ill always be the grimy little spitoon for all your nastiest spew, that Ill just take it. It doesnt even have to be me- it could be some other guy, it could be your roommate, your T.A., whomever. You just need a pristine bowl to shit in, and you dont care who it is. Well, Im backing out. Ive got my own problems to slog through too, you know?"

For a split second Lisa looks like I just snapped a puppys spine in front of her face, but the mask of cool quickly descends again and she gets up.

"Come on," she says briskly. "Lets go get some breakfast, Derek. Ill put you on that noon train, okay?" She turns her back on me and starts walking back toward the dorm. I try to remember everything Ive read about the inexorable pull of black holes, but nothing comes, so all I do is shrug again and rise wearily in the muggy soup to follow her. I can hear her pace slow once she senses me behind her, and I feel like a sucker. Soon Lisa is scarfing some scrambled eggs and Im drinking shitty coffee in some diner on a pathetic, tourist-trappy block in downtown Chico.  She mumbles something with her mouth full.

"What?"

"Im gonna fucking ream Justin about those shrooms, man. I crashed hard."

"Who?"

"My cousin. From OC. Hes my hookup. Justin Addison."

"Would I know him?"

"Probably not. Hes like, three years older than us and went to high school in Fullerton."

"Oh." We finish breakfast and leave a skimpy tip, and walk back outside, through the mushy atmosphere toward a movie theater. Lisa keeps babbling on about her cousins, like she really misses them or something. It would be touching if they werent sending her shit that makes her problems worse. I realize for the thousandth time that this girl is practically begging to be saved, but I sure as hell dont want to be the dumbfuck who does it.

Lisa looks up as we pass underneath the theaters marquee. "Ooooh, Up Close and Personal. Lets see when its showing!"

"What? No, no- Lisa, its like seven a.m.- there wont be any shows for, what, four hours?"

She concedes defeat, but we end up wandering all over the place for those four hours, playing in a fountain, watching people get an outdoor stage ready, passing by a church.

"I peed on those steps once," Lisa giggles, pointing at a spot I cant discern. "I was, like, completely trashed, and all these lacrosse players..." Her voice trails off again and I sort of go on autopilot for a while, drifting through the greenhouse-wilderness of Chico in April with a willowy, gabby wraith at my side.

I come to, much later, on the fifth row of some bleachers, in front of the universitys baseball field, where the home team is mercilessly crushing University of the Pacific. Lisa is still by my side, animatedly talking to a girl on her other side whom I recognize as her roommate. I remember her name now- Kara- and on Karas other side are two more bubbly little coeds who hang on every world spilling out of Lisas mouth. I try to listen in and pretend like I know what the fuck is going on, but its no use- Im too tired, and I let their chattering drift away without a second thought as I watch the game for a few minutes, getting lost in something these girls dont understand. I quietly slip my headphones on again, and the Reid brothers resume their ragged soothing of my soul.

Ive been swimming in the dirty water/Ive been swimming where the fish dont go

The game rhythm seeps back into me. Full count, runners go. Routine-fly-Ive-got-it. Three up, three down. Old patterns make sense again, old synapses fire, and I soon distract myself by dredging up memories of Little League from deep storage. Dad coaching at third, whispering at me to steal home. Smacking a double down the line off my best friends bad curve ball. Watching Dad teach my sister to keep score as I wait for fly balls in left field. Waiting until the last minute to slide into second; exert the most terror on the spindly-legged shortstop. Exploding in rage when Im benched after only a half-inning of play during the Pony-League All-Star Game, replaced by a dipshit primadonna whod been to exactly one practice. Dad chewing me out behind the dugout for my ridiculous behavior.

I can see the train station from here, far beyond the center field chain-link fence, away across the dry, brown expanse of the practice field. I stare at it for a while, then glance at Lisa, who is still obliviously blathering away to Kara and one of the baseball players girlfriends. I turn back to the parched vista in front of me and see only salvation and escape when the noon train slowly arrives, limping in from a dawn departure from Seattle. It only takes me thirty seconds of gloriously fluid motion to zip up my bag, jump off the bleachers, hit the ground with feline grace, and begin sprinting toward the train. I love it. Life courses through me and the weight of my bag, of my problems, of the universe, is not even a factor.

I dont look back. I dont need to say goodbye to her.