First time I went to Indiana, I learned there was something called "toll roads," so I ended up in a place called Fort Wayne in order to continue east without paying the $8. My girlfriend at the time and I weren't picky so we went to the mall there and ate shitty Chinese food and watched "Speed" in the theater there.
It had been a week or so since we checked in with our parents, so we decided to call home after the movie. Sure enough, my girlfriend's Grandma had died. And the funeral was in Georgia. In three days.
We were sitting next to the dumpster, chain-smoking cigarettes and holding hands, trying to figure out if we should go to Georgia or continue east to New York (neither of us had ever seen the Atlantic Ocean so that was the original reason for the road trip). I was 17 and she had just turned 19 the week before, and the $230 we had left could have afforded either option.
Fate blew in at that very second and a half-open envelope blew against my girlfriend's ankles. Inside was a birthday card addressed to Jessica Heenehan and a check for $25. I'll never forget that name.
My girlfriend and I put everything on hold. Her grandma's funeral, our trip to the storied East, everything was put on the back-burner so we could reunite Jessica with her $25 check and birthday card from her dad.
We were at a mall, so we found a payphone and started doing our research. The phone book had about a dozen Heenehans, and so we kept getting change from the Mariposa store and called every one. Each one that actually picked up the phone didn't know who the hell Jessica was, so we ended up driving all over Fort Wayne to the addresses from the phone book that didn't pick up the phone.
It was a weird day. My girlfriend was really upset by her grandma dying, and I know now that she needed something to get her mind off of it. I'm not sure if she was as into getting Jessica's birthday money to her as I was. And to be honest with you, I think we both knew that we were going to break up after the trip. She was much smarter than I was, and she was destined to be something great. i was just a kid that wanted to go on road trips and have bad teen-age sex in a cornfield in rural Indiana. I saw her once, years later. I was walking to the back of the line for a concert in Portland. She looked at me and I looked at her, and we both smiled and nodded. Like we knew that we were both part of something together once, and we've both moved on somehow. But I guarantee she moved on way before I did.
We were on Pontiac Street. Kind of near a big park. It was the last Heenahan on our list. None of the others had a Jessica. I remember it was Pontiac Street because of the car, and I remember it was next to a nice park because it was the first time we had seen old, tall trees in a while. It was a typical Indiana house with a medium-sized flagpole and my girlfriend and I both commented about how the grass was so perfect. We knocked on the door and old Mrs. Heenehan came to the door and gave us the same story we had been hearing all afternoon: No Jessica. Lots of free fudge, mind you, but no Jessica. By the way, what's up with all the fudge in Indiana?
My girlfriend and I never made it to the Atlantic Ocean, and she missed her grandma's funeral. We ended up snaking our way back home to Oregon via Utah and Colorado and New Mexico and California. We broke up about three weeks after getting home. She sent my records back to me via the postal service. I still have the receipt.
The fate of Indiana is blowing up against your ankles right now. A lack of filtering yourself is no excuse. Bring Jessica Heenehan her $25 birthday money. Run for state rep. You'll probably fail. But, goddammit, what's the alternative?