Chapter 31: The Sunset Limited

December 19, 1981

We got up bright and early and loaded our bags for the drive to the train station. Dad had booked us into two roomettes. It seemed unlikely that Mom and Dad would luck into a room again. However, they’d ask if there were upgrades available, since Amtrak sold unsold rooms at a big discount.

A couple of hours later we boarded the train. Angie and I took our carry-on bags to our roomette and settled in. Dad talked to the porter, but there were no rooms available. Their roomette was several doors down from ours. They settled in their roomette; we, of course, took off to explore the train.

Before we made it end-to-end and back, the train pulled out of the station. We settled into the observation car. Angie’d brought some cards, but for the time being we just watched the city roll by. The route ran along the tracks by the freeway near our house; when we went to ‘the other side of the tracks,’ it was these we crossed.

Thus, twenty minutes after leaving downtown, we spotted the Y where we took karate, then the library, then my junior high, and then Memorial. It was funny seeing familiar landmarks from the train, even if we could barely see most of them because of the concrete barrier in the center of the freeway.

Another fifteen minutes and we were out of what we considered ‘Houston’ in 1981. The countryside grew more boring, with endless fields of various crops. So, we broke out the cards and started playing.

Angie glanced around. We were alone in the observation car except for an older couple who would likely be well out of earshot. “So, let’s assume the impossible. Nancy comes by herself; Mom and Dad don’t go to dinner and don’t snoop. Do you sneak off to our room?”

I laughed. “Impossible, definitely. The answer is no, I wouldn’t.”

“Why? Jasmine would be fine with it.”

“Yeah, she made a point of that. And you would be, too.”

She laughed. “Her and most random strangers, yeah.”

I laughed too. “Maybe I’ll make a play for Cinderella.”

“She’s got a guy with a big ... castle. You’re probably out of the running.”

“Size matters.”

“So?”

“I’d say ‘too soon’ but that’s obviously not exactly it. It’s much more about feelings. I’m over Nancy about 98%. I’m guessing she’s about there. I’d feel ... shaky. Maybe it would just be a pleasant reminder of wonderful times, but maybe it’d rekindle flames that have no business being rekindled.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. And, I agree. I think you’ll get there, but not yet.”

“Me, too.”

“Curiosity ... Candice?”

I shook my head. “Anything with Candice would take extremely unlikely circumstances. It couldn’t be casual, ever. That means I’d have to know that it was meaningful to her new life. If it was to resolve feelings about sex with a guy, I don’t know how I could refuse. But, just fooling around? Nah.”

“We’re on the same page there, too. I think she could push it too much. Likely not, but, maybe. And if she does, you’ll have to be strong. She seems fine, and I think mostly she is. But maybe not as fine as she thinks.”

“I agree. So, I’ll flip it around. How are you feeling about Gene? I missed the signs on Dan until too late.”

She laughed. “We’re in a good place. I’m not convinced that he’s ‘the one’. I’m not convinced that he’s not, either. I’m starting to ... well, we definitely should talk about this. I mean, I wouldn’t do anything without talking to you, but I’ve thought more than once that, if someone is ‘the one’, I should be able to envision explaining who I really am. I mean, everyone’s entitled to a few secrets, but if I can’t trust them with the huge one, can they be ‘the one’?”

“I think I really need to think about that. I’m not sure I agree, which is weird, because I’m a romantic at heart, and that seems like it should be something I’d agree with.”

“Interesting. You’re right; I thought it would appeal to you. Also, it’s funny, but it’s true. I never would have thought I would ever say that Steve Marshall was a romantic at heart, before. But you really are. The things you only find out if you get a second chance.”

I pondered a minute. “I think I know what’s wrong about it. My ex-wife.”

“She was definitely not ‘the one’,” Angie laughed softly. “And for the record, Max wasn’t either. I couldn’t imagine myself telling him something like that. Even the old me. Even when I was desperate for something to distract him with or please him.”

“No, she wasn’t, but I would have convinced myself she was. I did the first time. Romantic at heart, right? I once told her something that Mom and Dad told me that showed they had minor reservations. I should have listened,” I chuckled, softly, shaking my head. “I thought telling her would bring us closer together, since I was choosing her. It didn’t; she was mad at me and them, both. I should have listened to that, too. But I didn’t. We got past it, got married, me convinced she was ‘the one’. Then she hauled that quote out dozens of times and attacked me with it. If I’d told her something like the truth about us? It’d have gone so very badly.”

She sighed. “Depressing. But, depressingly accurate, I guess. You’re right. We probably can’t. Though, we’re talking about telling Dr. Stanton, maybe.”

“She’s not someone we’re marrying. She doesn’t love us, and you know they say the opposite of love is not hate but indifference. She’s a professional, not a lover. But she may not be exactly indifferent. That’s what we have to think about.”

“OK, fine. See, your iceberg-y side still beats your romantic side,” she laughed.

“That’s not iceberg-y. Iceberg-y is saying ‘the whole thing will end in tears, so why try?’. Or, the way you explained it, really, it’s ‘there’s no point in even trying because nothing will ever happen’.”

“OK, both are more iceberg-y. But still.”

“I’ve been burned. I’ll still turn on the stove and see what I can cook up, but I’m not handing out gasoline, and I’m going to have some idea where the fire extinguisher is. And where the oven mitts are.”

She laughed. “That’s a pretty amusing metaphor.”

“True enough.”

We watched a while longer, then went to check with Mom and Dad. They were having a good time watching the scenery from their roomette. We offered to pick them up some lunch — in a vaguely veiled attempt to get them to buy us lunch — and Dad laughingly gave us some money and told us they’d like sandwiches from the lounge. We went, bought and delivered lunch for them, and took ours back to the observation car.

The afternoon turned much more into playing cards than anything serious. We had too many people around for serious conversation but enjoyed the view too much to move elsewhere.

By late afternoon we were nearing San Antonio. There’s a nearly two-hour stop there. We convinced Mom and Dad that it was the best time to hit the dining car and got there about fifteen minutes before the rush. Minimal scenery, maximum dining. Worked for us.

Dad raised a point Jasmine and I had discussed. “I hope we’re not making this too little-kids-y for you, with Disneyland. They pitch Universal a little older, and Magic Mountain even more so.”

“Oh, no, Dad,” Angie said. “Really. Steve and I talked about it. We’re both thrilled, and that’s not a joke. Neither of us has ever been, and we really want to. Even the kids’ stuff. Maybe not character autographs, but character photos? We’re there.”

“Definitely! And the Fantasyland rides. Except no teacups for me.”

“He’s a wimp!”

“I don’t like being queasy for two hours!”

Mom laughed. “I know; you and motion sickness. You don’t need to ride anything you don’t want to. Besides, I’m not about to ride them. Or the roller coasters.”

“Oh, I’m riding all the roller coasters!” I grinned.

“Me, too!”

“We’ll watch,” Dad said. “Anyway, I’m glad you want to go. We went back in...”

“1965,” Mom said. “That’s been the only time. I think a lot of things have changed.”

Dad nodded. “Most of it!”

Dessert was a reprise of an old Amtrak story of mine, which, amusingly, happened on this train, a year and a half ago, on the same route, my first go-round.

I ordered ice cream, which our waiter provided. A rectangular white brick of ice cream, which a spoon wouldn’t penetrate. Nor a fork. Nor would a steak knife cut it. It was very, very frozen.

We all, of course, found this highly amusing. And of course, eventually it thawed.

Eventually.

By the time dessert was over, it was nearly time for the train to depart. Angie and I headed to the observation car and watched the city lights, and then the darkness. We hung out and played cards and watched the starry skies until Del Rio. After that, it was time to go hit the bed.