Jake took his time getting to Portland. He drove that first day up to Eugene, about 3 hours from Ashland. He wandered around the university a bit and checked out a few of the galleries. There didn’t seem to be much big money in the town from the look of things. He also checked a few specialty stores that might carry art and again he wasn’t impressed. He found a motel not far from the freeway where he spent a restless night dreaming of Marnie and of Paul, strangely morphed versions of their last encounters. In one, he was in a Holiday Inn in bed with Paul; in another, he and Marnie were getting married and Paul was the minister. He awoke with a headache in an overly warm room, the covers all twisted at the bottom of the bed.
From the motel he called Marnie’s parents in Seattle to get her address and some directions. Mr. Andreason seemed glad to hear from him, glad to give him the information he sought. Then he passed on the other news. “A real shame about what’s happened to Paul, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, Mr. Andreason? What’s happened to Paul? Is he ill?”
“No,” said Andreason, “he’s been in a terrible accident. A head-on with a pickup. He and that girl he married were in the hospital, last I heard.”
Jake took a moment to recover. “I didn’t know,” he said. “Is Paul going to be all right?”
“I suspect so, but I don’t really know.”
“Wow, okay, that’s awful. Has Marnie gone out to see him?”
“Marnie, no, she wouldn’t do that,” said Andreason. “But she keeps in touch with someone in Virginia named Lillian.”
“Oh, okay,” said Jake, “I know Lillian,” and he felt a little better since Lillian knew. In the end, he thanked the man for the information and hung up. Now he had a second reason for seeing Marnie. That too made him feel better.
The stretch of I-5 between Eugene and Portland was straight and boring for a long way and on a late Friday morning, there wasn’t all that much traffic. Jake had plenty of time to think. Paul in a head-on collision. Andreason hadn’t said so, but Jake had to assume Paul had been drunk. It was probably a miracle that he hadn’t hit someone before now. Drunk driving was serious business. In some states, that meant prison time. Jake felt great sorrow. How had Paul let it come to this? How had they all? Jake pictured himself at the wedding in West Virginia as Paul had asked. He saw himself wrestling with Paul for the car keys, Paul obstinate and laughing at first, then angry and belligerent. Maybe he could have stopped him, then again maybe not. Would his presence at the wedding have changed the circumstances? He shook his head to free himself from these thoughts. It was done. The accident had happened.
Then it sank in. If Paul was married again, he and Marnie really were through. That opened up the space for him and Marnie. Jake didn’t know how to feel about that. He remembered what Eleni had said to him in Big Sur. “You’ve come away from them, but you have not yet left them behind. They are still a thorn in your heart.” Was that still true? He would have to wait until he saw Marnie to know what was in his heart.
He took a deep breath to wipe his mind free and turn his attention to the road, where the traffic was growing heavier as he neared Portland. The rain had started in Salem and it too was growing heavier as he moved north. Marnie’s dad had recommended he stay on I-205 and then hit I-84. It was the long way round, he’d said, but the simplest.
He got off on 43rd and wound his way down into Marnie’s eastside neighborhood off Burnside. After blocks of big fancy houses, he turned on to her street. Some old buildings, some much newer. Residences, small office buildings, a couple of cheaper apartment complexes that looked like motels, then her courtyard.
Jake didn’t see Marnie’s car, though there were four closed garages at the entrance to the courtyard. But it was only 1:30 and she’d still be at work. He decided to get some lunch and check out the neighborhood and come back late in the afternoon.
He’d passed a commercial area up on Burnside and he got some Indian food at a strange old house. After he ate, he hoped he’d find a bookstore in the area to pass the time, but there were only restaurants and a grocery store and a couple of vintage shops so he got back in his truck and drove down Burnside until he came to an art supply store. He spent several hours gathering together a fairly large collection of paints and brushes and canvases. Everything was much cheaper than in California, and he decided to stock up. He paid for his purchases and had the clerk box it all up and help him load it into the truck bed. He wondered if it would be safe on the street or if Marnie would let him use her garage.
The art store was only a few blocks from Marnie’s and when he drove by the complex, her car was parked on the street. He parked behind her. His nervousness, which had been blooming all afternoon, began to spill over into a racing pulse and shaky hands. He tried to calm himself. After all, this was one of his best friends, someone he had known a long time, someone who really cared about him. So why was he afraid now?
He had thought that surprising her with his visit was the best way to do it, but now he wasn’t so sure. He saw that he’d been afraid she would say don’t come, I don’t want to see you. And he didn’t want to know that. He sat there a while. There wasn’t much traffic on the street. A Miata drove by, turned around, and parked on the other side of the street. A short bearded man got out and crossed the street and went into the courtyard. Still Jake sat. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t fantasizing. He was just waiting. Finally he grew cold and the cloudy sky grew dark with dusk. He screwed up his courage and went into the courtyard and rang Marnie’s doorbell.