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Sorry?
    Me: Point Pelee. Point Pelee.
    Cabdriver: Okay.
    He pulled away.
    Me: Susie, please don’t do this.
    Susie: I won’t if you won’t.
    She said it kind of sad, kind of scared, which made me feel sad and scared, which then made me mad.
    Me: Look, I’m doing this. I didn’t ask your opinion, and I don’t want you to come. Why are you even here with me?
    Susie: Because you need me.
    Me: No, I don’t.
    Susie: I’m going to make sure you live and go back to school and become a neuroscientist and have a good life.
    Me: Why are you talking like you care?
    She appeared to consider this as if it were an honest question instead of a snide remark.
    Me: You always thought I was weird. Last year you ditched me as a friend.
    Susie: Yeah. You’ve always been weird. You’re even weirder now.
    Hobbes: You have to give her credit—she’s always been smart.
    Susie: You need to go back to school and face up to things. You need medication—
    Me: Yeah—easy for you to say. You don’t know what happens to a guy on some of those meds. Can I tell you?
    Susie: No. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Listen, if you go back to school, I promise I’ll stand by you. So now can we just forget this whole impressing–Bill Watterson thing?
    Me: Susie, I have to do this.
    Susie: You really think Bill’s going to be waiting onshore when you get to the other side of the lake?
    Me: Yeah.
    Susie:
    Me: Well, maybe.
    Susie: Don’t be sad if he doesn’t show up.
    Me: I won’t.
    Susie:
    Me: Okay, yes, I will.
    Susie: I know.
    *   *   *
    We rode in silence the rest of the way. I sat close to Susie, crowded out by Hobbes. I kept looking at her, expecting she would vanish any second, but she was a persistent delusion if she was one.
    Hobbes: I think she likes you. I can teach you how to smooch. I’ve had lots of practice.
    Me: Move over.
    Hobbes: Smooching is a way of tasting people without actually eating them up.
    Me: Don’t talk to me.
    Cabdriver: Strange day to go to the lake.
    Me: Yup.
    Cabdriver: You sure are loaded up there.
    Me: Yup.
    Cabdriver: Pretty cold out there today.
    Me: Sure is.
    You could always tell when you were getting close to the lake. The lake opened up the sky. You could see the lake’s sky before you saw the lake.
    The driver was quiet for the rest of the way until we pulled into the park. We got out of the cab and the driver helped unload our stuff.
    It cost $12.10 for park fees, and a flat rate of $40 for the cab.
    Cabdriver: So, uh, you want me to come back for you later?
    Me: Nope.
    Cabdriver:
    He looked from me to the sled to the lake and back to me.
    Cabdriver: You’re not—
    Me: Yup.
    The cabdriver stared at me a second.
    Cabdriver: You’re crazy if you’re thinking of walking across that lake.
    Me: Yes.
    Cabdriver: Do your parents know?
    Me: Hopefully this tip will buy your silence.
    I held out the money and he snatched it.
    Cabdriver: In my day kids killed themselves with heroin.
    He jumped back into the cab and drove away fast.
    Me: You meet all kinds when you’re a cabdriver.
    Hobbes: You should have tipped him more.
    *   *   *
    At first, Bill, I’d thought of heading south by southwest, passing Pelee Island along the way, maybe Kelleys Island, and ending up at Sandusky. We’d have Cedar Point to rely on if we ran into trouble. That was the shortest way, but I wasn’t sure I should trouble you to drive all the way to Sandusky. That’s why I decided to head south and southeast to end up at Cleveland in sight of the downtown towers, where you were supposed to meet us in two days in time for breakfast. That would be eighty-seven kilometers. The natural human walking gait is five kilometers an hour, which meant it could be walked in just over seventeen hours. Theoretically.
    It sounded so feasible at the time, Bill. And you’d be there holding on to a new