Edward Adrift

I am from. Neither place has the big mountains that outsiders seem to associate with the states they’re in. It occurs to me that it has been so long since I saw Cheyenne Wells, this will be like visiting it for the first time. Even as detail-oriented as I am, I know that memories are imprecise renderings of places and times. I am eager to see it again and to reconcile what I see with what I remember. I hope sleep comes soon. Strangely, I hope my father visits my dreams again. I realize that I find comfort in that.
    “Edward?”
    Kyle’s voice is soft. I’m surprised to hear it.
    “Yes?”
    “Can I tell you something?”
    “Yes.”
    I hear rustling in the bed next to mine as he shifts his weight under the covers.
    “I just want to say thanks for letting me come with you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    I listen as he flops over in bed, and soon I can hear that he’s asleep.
    Maybe Kyle is still a sweet young man. I hope so. He’s sending conflicting signals—that much is certain. If he were on
Jersey Shore
, they would probably call him “The Enigma.” (I love the word “enigma.”)

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2011
    From the logbook of Edward Stanton:
    Time I woke up today: 7:38 a.m. A very familiar time for me. The 209th time this year I’ve been awake at this time.
    High temperature for Tuesday, December 13, 2011, Day 347: 32 (according to the Rock Springs newspaper). Nine degrees warmer than the high the day before.
    Low temperature for Tuesday, December 13, 2011: 20. Same as the low the day before.
    Precipitation for Tuesday, December 13, 2011: a trace amount.
    Precipitation for 2011: 19.40 inches
    New entries:
    Exercise for Tuesday, December 13, 2011: Kyle refused to walk with me, so I didn’t do it. I’ve decided that we will walk at lunch, even if it costs us time on our 517-mile trip to Cheyenne Wells.
    Miles driven Tuesday, December 13, 2011: 490.8
    Total miles driven: 1,203.8
    Gas usage Tuesday, December 13, 2011: Filled up in Boise: 9.747 gallons at $3.0199 per gallon, for a total of $29.43. Filled up in Brigham City, Utah: 13.209 gallons at $3.2399, for a total of $42.80. I am giving up on trying to project my gas usage and costs; the variables in price and consumption are too great. I will, ofcourse, continue to write down the actual amounts as I accumulate them.
    What Kyle owes me for the music he purchased: $215. He called his mother this morning and told her he loves her, and I credited $10 to his account. After he handed the phone back to me, Donna said, “What did you do to him?” She meant that I had done well, I think. That made me feel good.
    Addendum: I am excited today. It will take many hours, but I will see Cheyenne Wells, Colorado, and that makes me happy. However, my happiness is kept in check by my reminding myself that it’s highly unlikely that I will arrive in Cheyenne Wells and the townspeople will congregate (I love the word “congregate”) around me and say, “Edward, we are so glad you came. We’ve been waiting for you.” Life doesn’t work that way. Yes, my father has been showing up in Cheyenne Wells in my dreams—although he did not last night, as far as I remember—and, yes, I have begun to wonder whether that means he wants me to find something there, but I have to remind myself that I am someone who trusts facts above all, and this idea that my father is guiding me toward something is not a fact. It is a fantasy. I have to remember that so I am not disappointed.
    I am glad Kyle is with me on this trip. I wasn’t sure I would be, but aside from a couple of small problems, it’s been good to be with him. I hope that continues.
    After I stop the car for the second time on the 107-mile stretch between Rock Springs and Rawlins, Wyoming, so I can pee, Kyle asks me this question:
    “Why do you pee so much?”
    I think it is reasonable for him to ask, given the frequency of my urination. So I tell him. “I take drugs that cause me to pee. It’sso my body doesn’t retain water. It’s part of my treatment for my type two diabetes.”
    “That’s weird.”
    “It’s called a diuretic.”
    “How many times do you pee a day?”
    This is an astounding question, and I instantly feel foolish for not having an answer. I really should be tracking this on my data sheets.
    “A lot,” I say. “In the first four hours after I take my pill, it’s especially frequent. Also—I hope this doesn’t gross you out—but it’s much more pee than it has ever been