Chapter 4 continued.

We sat together at Jamison Park, notably drumming our fingers against the concrete of the cold ground. Little words were exchanged, as well as glances. Instead, our attention was held by the little kids screaming in the icy cold water of the fountain. Fall was finally here, as well as the cold weather, and the fountains hadn't been turned off yet. I thought it was funny how resilient these kids were, and how strange the city was not being on top of things.

"So this is the pearl district?"

"Yeah."

"I can see why they call it that."

"Because it's so clean?"

"Yeah, but it looks like it's also where the rich people live with their young kids. Kind of like they are sheltering them from the rest of the not so pearly city."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So you know what I think we should do right now?"

"What?"

"I think you should show me some cool places here."

"Don't you have a map, or something like that?"

"Because I'm a tourist?"

"Yeah, maybe you should just join them."

I pointed to a large Asian tourist group that just got off the street car.

"Yeah they look like they fit in."

I looked him up and down.

"Maybe you shouldn't."

He seemed to be gladly surprised at my approval. I thought it strange.

"Does this mean I look like a Portland person?"

"It's Portlander actually, and not quite yet. You do have the old vintage look down, but your still missing something."

"What's that?"

"A coffee in your hand."

"Ah, and you know the place?"

"Yeah, I think so. Plus it's in a good area. Somewhere where you will really see what Portland's like."

He smiled.

"Great."

We walked all the way there, into old town, about 20 blocks. He didn't seem to catch a sweat, so I guess he walked everywhere at home. Everywhere we walked, he looked, almost in awe of Portland's raw edginess and ambiguity. It made me think of the first time I saw the city too. I was five years old, and my parents had brought me to an opera. Don't ask me why, my parents always had their hand on whether I was 'truly' educated or not. But I remember feeling so small, smaller than I usually felt. I wasn't scared, but more of hypnotized by it's other worldliness, unlike the country.

"What part of England are you from?"

I had to know.

"Well, I live in London now, but I actually grew up in Painswick."

He looked at me and realized I had no idea what place he was talking about.

"It's a really small town in Gloucestershire, England. Actually, extremely small."

"Probably not as small where I grew up."

"Try 2,070."

"Never mind. Maybe the place where you grew up just seems small."

"I thought you were a portland native?"

"I am I guess. My parents brought me here a lot ever since I was five, but I grew up in Gresham."

"Where is that?"

"About a half hour away if you drive. It's a real resolute town. The Vortex."

"The Vortex?"

"Yeah, everyone there is close-minded. That's all that's there, close-minded people, and hair salons."

He smiled that smile again.

"I'd like to see that."

"No, trust me, you wouldn't."

"No, it would be nice to be somewhere like that. I've been in an extremely in your face environment for a long time now."

"In London?"

He shrugged.

"Well, yeah."

We finally reached the coffee shop. It wasn't the lunch hour yet, so the place was quiet and resolute. You could see through the glass. Quiet people were backed into corners, either on their laptops or reading something quiet but content with the late morning. The hot steam from their cups was almost memorizing. I hadn't had my usual for the day because of the commotion, brought on by myself, so my stomach was craving something warm and addictive.

We entered, and he stood behind me. I think he wanted to see how it was done, I wandered if he had read in some hipster book about portland how coffee shop people were.

"Hi," I said.

The barista slowly looked up at me, it seemed like he needed a coffee too. There was no response, except for one of his eyebrows lifted over the other.

"I'd like a 12 oz latte."

"Alright." He said.

He seemed happy with my quick response. But after writing down my order and getting to work, he looked at Raleigh with the same agitated eyebrow.

"Uh, the same. Please."

We payed, then sat down with our hot coffee. Instead of looking straight ahead, we just looked at each other. Partially because we had to due to the sitting across from one another, but also because we were curious about one another. I wanted to know what he did, who he was, etc etc, but I didn't want to cross the line. I knew if we did, we would be asking for more and more, or nothing at all. I didn't want to take that risk. I liked him for what he was now.

"I-." He said.

He stopped, then smiled. He thought about what he could say, or wanted to say. He thought too hard.

"Listen, I'd like to see you again."

"What's wrong with just now?"

"The fact that I wouldn't see you again."

I smiled at his frankness, and talent for trying.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"What are you talking about, it's a great idea."

"Ha, yeah, I just-"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going back, and I just want to know if it was possible if I could see you if I come back."

"So you want a tour guide for then too?"

"Yeah, maybe a shofar too, I don't have a car. No-"

I started laughing hysterically. His accent was too much. I had to repeat him.

"I'm sorry, 'Shofarrh'? I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I was waiting for him to get angry, because most people do at my bluntness and lack of not caring now, but instead, he laughed too. We laughed together.