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Wednesday, October 10th 1984
9:01 a.m.
Cash sits on the fender of his station wagon trying to make sense of the past twelve hours. He needs sleep, but broad daylight conspires against him. He could use a drink, but needs clarity more. He wants more sex, but is too exhausted from last night's romping. The change he invited in brought with such a ripple effect. Why had he waited until he was an adult to have sex for the first time? Was he feeling true love or just the Christmas-morning ecstasy of the morning after?
Ruined.
There is no going home. Is this motel room on Union Avenue Cash’s new home? He wonders how he will land on his feet, or whether he will fall face down. Why should it be so hard to get a job washing dishes at the Bakersfield Inn? Why does he need female body parts to get a job cleaning motel rooms? He remembers the motel owner at the TraveLodge laughing at him because cleaning rooms was women's work. Cash wants and needs a job.
“Cigarette?” a voice startles Cash out of his thoughts.
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