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friends, listening to other people’s lives. Gram never took a plane until she went up to Wrangell for the last time. They had to take the backs off the seats because she was on a stretcher. Jenna wasn’t there, but she could imagine it.
    They had cut off Gram’s foot. She had gangrene and they had to amputate. She was also riddled with cancer. That’s what the doctor said. She had lived with a lot of pain for a long time. Jenna imagined her organs full of holes. Jenna wheeled her around the floor of the hospital. Just to go for a ride. She yelled out, Hey, Man! Hey, Man! Mom said she was calling for God. Asking Him to take away the pain. Hey, Man. God was Man. Man smells like gasoline; God smells like hospital disinfectant. There were so many old people, all of them in pain. All of them drugged to delirium. One doctor said they would have to cut her leg off at the thigh. Jenna’s mom said no. The doctor told them it was less than a fifty percent chance she would come out of anesthesia. Probably wouldn’t stop the gangrene and she might not come out of the surgery. She might go to sleep and never wake up. She was ninety-six. She had led a full life. Mom said if the doctor wants to euthanize her, he’s going to have to forget it. No doctor is going to put my mother to sleep like a dog. Hey, Man, please stop the pain.
    Gram wanted to go back home to Alaska. Everyone thought it was stupid but Mom. Mom said she knows she’s going to die and she wants to do it at home. Who would deny her that? The woman’s been living in the same house for ninety-six years. All eleven of her children were born in that house. Her husband died in that house. Why in hell shouldn’t she be allowed to die there?
    So they put her on an airplane and she made the trip. She died about nine months later. In her home.
    W HEN J ENNA AWOKE, it was six o’clock and the sun streamed in through the back window of the car. She brought the seat back up to its upright and locked position and climbed out of the car. Her back was stiff and she stretched, breathing the clear morning air. She spied a Starbucks across the street and headed to it.
    Jenna sat at the long counter that looked out onto the street, drinking a coffee and eating a muffin. People stood in line to fire off their orders. Super-tall-low-fat-no-foam-double-mocha-decaf-cappuccino-in-a-bag-no-sip-lid, please. Damn. How do people find out what they like? It could take years to narrow down the possibilities. And then, how do they remember? People coming in and shooting off orders to the girls behind the counter. And the girls remembering! It’s like a Greek diner. Double-D-mochachino-skinny-ixnay-on-the-oamfay-goin’-away! Yikes! Have an idea? Make a billion dollars.
    A young hippie couple sat at the counter next to Jenna. Birkenstocks and backpacks. Just kids, probably eighteen or so. They seemed confused and anxious. The boy was furiously going through the girl’s backpack.
    “It’s not in there.”
    “Well, it’s got to be somewhere!”
    “I looked. It’s gone. What are we going to do?”
    The boy hippie scratched his head.
    “Damn it, Debbie. It’s got to be somewhere.”
    “It’s gone. I know I lost it. I know it.”
    Debbie started to cry. The boy tried to console her.
    “We’ll hitch our way up. The Alcan Highway. We’ll hitch a ride in a Winnebago.”
    “Oh, Willie, I’m so depressed.”
    Debbie cried more. Willie awkwardly held her.
    Jenna realized that she was staring. She and Willie had locked eyes in kind of a glazy way, and it occurred to Jenna that Willie should make a face at her, try to get her to mind her own business, but he didn’t.
    “How much is the ticket?” Jenna asked suddenly.
    Willie was startled. He hadn’t been looking at her at all. He hadn’t even noticed she was there.
    “What?”
    “How much do you need?”
    Willie looked at Debbie, then back at Jenna.
    “It’s a little over two hundred dollars to Skagway.”
    “I’ll buy you a