Jolie
Jolene stared out the window of the Greyhound. Only four more hours and she’d finally be in Portland. As for riding the dog, she could now confirm every hellish tale she’d ever heard. If things didn’t work out she’d simply have to walk back to San Francisco.
But she was absolutely determined that this time it WOULD work out. This time was gonna be different. For one thing she wasn’t going to be Jolene Layne any more. From the moment she stepped off this hell hole of a bus she would be Jolie. Jolie Lane. She’d thought it over. It had a nice French sort of sound to it and it was an absolutely valid contraction of Jolene. So it wasn’t like a fake name or anything. The name Jolene had been a gift from her mother Patsy, who’d determined that her name had been a major factor in the woes of her existence. According to Patsy, it was a lesson learned the hard way from the Grand Ol’ Opry. Look at Patsy Cline. A wonderful singer. An attractive woman, too. But Patsy Cline got left. Over and over. Listen to just about any of her songs. It was all there. And so did Jolene’s mother. Get left, that is. So Mrs. Patricia Layne Thompson Thigpen McGuire gave her daughter the gift of a winning name. A name from her favorite Dolly Parton song, “Jolene,” in which a Patsy type of woman begs the beautiful redhead Jolene to please, please give back her man. Jolenes didn’t get left. It was one way to safeguard her daughter from inheriting a legacy of heartbreak.
Getting left was the least of Jolene’s problems.
Max, Eleni, & Nat the Cat
Nat the Cat was out of valium. This much was clear. Eleni was glad Max was driving. She didn’t think she could have handled it nearly as well. If only she hadn’t forgotten the remaining bit of the #10 blue valium on the nightstand at the last motel. Poor Nat, he just wasn’t a seasoned traveler. Most cats aren’t really. There was something about the Siamese voice, too. It seemed to be in the same range as a human's. Or close enough. You really couldn’t ignore it. It ripped through your psyche and broke your heart all at the same time.
Max figured they’d be there in about two more hours. They’d already gotten the key from Mr. Nister. He couldn’t believe they were actually pulling it off. Two hours and they would arrive at their new Portland home.
Eleni couldn’t believe it, either. They actually set a goal and made it within a month of their deadline. They decided they had at least one more adventure in them. Even if they were over 40. Tonight they’d make a slumber party of it, lay their blankets on the floor, and spend the first night in the house. Tomorrow they’d sign up at the clinic and get their doses. They were gonna make it this time for sure. This time WOULD be different.
Barkin' Jack
It felt like a medium sort of day for Barkin' Jack. Anyway it was too early to tell. So far not a scary day but it didn't feel super lucky either. They'd kicked him out of the shelter pretty early. Was it today when he got out early? Yeah, it was.
His feet had taken him by way of Union Station. They did that a lot. They liked to go to the Greyhound station too but all in all his feet seemed to prefer Union Station.
On a good day he could even imagine himself getting on a train and going back to being Jack Barker again. Today he didn't care to know Jack Barker. It wasn't that sort of day, but it was good enough to feel kinda social. Barkin' Jack liked to greet newcomers to the city. If not him, then who?
Max, Eleni, & Nat the Cat
Didn't anybody ever stop to think about how things might affect the cat? Nat didn't think so. Bad enough he'd spent two days in a little box within a big box. A big box that shook and moved and made terrible noises. Now he didn't know where he was. Nothing was right. Where was his window? He couldn't see the bougainvillea. He didn't hear the mockingbirds or the car alarms. Worst of all it didn't smell right. All the things he'd so carefully imbued with his mark weaving his smell in with Max's and Eleni's scents. Eleni's perfume, Nat, Max's deodorant soap, Nat, Marlboros, Nat, furniture polish, Nat, Nat's bed, Nat, Nat's chair, Nat.
Now it was only Nat's box and Nat. Nat screamed.
“Oh Max”, said Eleni, “I don't think Nat is very happy.”
“I know, I really thought he'd calm down once we got here. He won't even leave his box.”
“Geez” sighed Eleni as she looked around the big empty bedroom. “I thought he'd love Portland.”
“He will.”
Max slipped his arms around Eleni's waist. She looked up into his eyes.
“Ya think?”
“Sure he will,” Max smiled, “just give him time.”
Barkin' Jack
Barkin' Jack entered Union Station with its mish-mash of Tudor walls, Spanish roof tiles, and New Orleans ironwork. It had the feel of everyone's idea of what a train station should be, all wrapped up in one package. He stood for a bit in the center of the main waiting area. Marble walls marked To Trains - From Trains - Tickets - Baggage. A large clock kept everyone appraised of the time. He turned down the hallway and slipped out a side door to the tracks themselves. He hummed along to the soundtrack in his head “Love in Vain.”
When the train come in the station it had blue lights on behind. When the train came in the station.....
Barkin' Jack walked up and down the tracks. Nothing coming in. Nothing going out. He shuffled around a bit, saw a guy walking towards him with some kinda square badge on. Barkin' Jack beat feet across the street to the Greyhound station.
Jolie
A sudden jerk and a hiss of brakes and Jolie's eyes flew open. Didn't it just figure? Thirty five hours with no sleep and now that she just got comfy it was time to go. Well fuck. At least she was in Portland. She fished around in her pack and pulled out her brush and makeup bag, did the best she could while the bus lumbered forward toward the right gate. Was 34 the new 24? It sure didn't look like it today. She'd meant to call Jackie about a half hour before she arrived to come and pick her up. Well fuck.
Barkin' Jack
He'd barely gotten to the front door when folks started coming out. Barkin' Jack peered through the glass. More coming, a steady stream. Barkin' Jack positioned himself a few feet from the door. Welcome to Portland, barked Barkin Jack to a large Mexican family who smiled nervously as they went by. Another family came out followed by a young couple. Welcome to Portland. You folks have a great time! Then he barked.
The young woman looked nervously at her fiancé as they made their way to the parking lot.
“Did that man just bark at us?”
“I'm pretty sure he did,” said her fiancé, “funny thing is, he looked so friendly.”
Jolie
Jolie picked up her bag and dragged it towards the first available bench. She fished around in her pack until she came up with her cell phone. Dead, of course. Where the hell could she have charged it on that nightmare of a bus? Well fuck. She'd just have to go out and get herself a cab or something.
Hoisting her shit back up, Jolie headed for the door. As she stepped outside she saw a funny little man with a bright red nose and a four tooth smile.
Welcome to Portland! Have a wonderful time! Then he barked.
“Thanks. You too,” said Jolie and went to find a cab.
Bubbles
They called her Bubbles. As a baby in the crib she had quite enjoyed blowing spit bubbles, cooing and gurgling as she did so. Perhaps as a residual curiosity her later childhood years found her increasingly involved in the world of bubbles, starting first with wands and pipes, moving onto large hoops which she dipped in huge bowls of soapy water urging them out bigger and bigger, a bit more impressive with each pass of the hoop. She'd even won 1st prize in the school talent show. Hence, the nickname stuck. Now at fifteen, a confirmed Goth nihilist, try as she might, she could not shake the name.
Perhaps if she'd come from a large city (as she thought she should have) she might have escaped. But here in Longview, she was Bubbles.
Dressed head to toe in black, pierced and tattooed with her ripped fishnets, knee-high Doc's, and permanent scowl, she was about as bubbly as a coiled cobra. She had to get out of this town or she was gonna lose her mind.
BB
