Hang out in the campus parking lot, over near Wordsworth. Sit in Andy's car. It's baked. It's some kind of old Ford.
“American made,” he explained when I first saw it.
It is the special time of day after the cafeteria stops serving lunch but before it starts serving dinner.
It's raining. Anna goes home to see her mother about something. I'm on campus for what feels like the first time in weeks.
I listen to the radio music. I connect memories to the lyrics. Some real, some imagined. The movie in my head.
“Do you think there's a plan?” Andy asks me. “Some script you have to follow.”
“Honestly?” I look at him.
He's serious. This is a real question. Not imagined.
“No. Probably not. It's all just some random shit storm.” I tell him.
He looks tired. His eyes are red.
Pink and green, neon, confetti are in my peripheral. There are just a few specs on the floor mat. Probably left over from some high school cheerleader he's sleeping with. The Dazed and Confused fantasy he lives.
“That's so you, man. But doesn't that suck? Not believing in destiny. Fate. That's it's all just up to chance.”
“We see what we want,” I tell him.
On trail, Andy defending.
“But then nothing matters.” He stops thinks about something. He lowers the radio slightly.
“How can you go through life thinking it’s pointless?”
“You coast. You float.”
“I don’t think I'm coming back next term.”
“I hear that,” I tell you. “Have you told your parents?”
“If they don't already, they'll know soon,” Andy says.
“And your brother?”
Andy smiles. He rolls down the window. Smoke pours out through the opening. He lights a cigarette.
“We're cool. Got drunk together the other night. He supports me.”
“You'll go back home, then?”
“I think so.”
“Happy days.”
Then, with seriousness: “Do you think it's the right thing?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it what you want?”
“Yeah.” Again.
“Will it make you happy?”
Andy nods.
“Then sure it’s the right thing, man. Life is fifty-percent second chances.
“Yeah.” Third time. Andy takes a drag.
“Then cool, dude.”
“Yeah, I know.” He stops, thinks, says, “But my parents.”
“It's only a bad thing if you allow it.”
Andy puts his hand out the window and taps the ember of the cigarette. Ashes flake off.
“Well,” he tells me, “that's very optimistic of you. Wait. Who are you? Are you one of Kermit's doppelgangers?
Laugh.
“Funny,” I say.
“You’re getting laid, aren't you?” He asserts, guesses.
Smile, nod. Think of Anna. Wonder when she'll be back. If I should meet her, surprise her, back at her place.