That turned dark quickly. Instead of the old house and gardens, the first thing she saw, as she stepped out of the train at the small town's station, was an old, brick, single-story building with large plate-glass windows and red painted shutters, all framed by two dark columns. Inside, a woman stood behind a mahogany counter. The woman looked at her, with surprise, and said, "What have we here?" It was one of those old-fashioned county fairs. The woman handed her a form. "I'll be right back," she said. "Bring me your driver's license." This was absurd, but she smiled at the woman, the same smile she had smiled at hundreds, maybe thousands of other strange people who had asked for the same thing. She handed the woman her driver's license. The woman seemed to get a kick out of this and then she went to a table behind her counter. There she collected a few more documents, as well as a few pennies, then she handed back the license. "Here you go. Hope your trip was pleasant." Her driver's license said "Marian Williams." She smiled. "I'm going to take you to the police department now," the woman said. "They might have questions. It's not every day a girl with a driver's license in her possession comes in and asks for your driver's license." In the police station, a tall, lanky man sat behind a desk. He smiled when he saw her. "You going to give me your driver's license, too?" he asked. "In that case I'll have to look it up on the system." But they didn't need the system. They didn't have to look anything up. He looked over her license and his eyes got real big, "How old are you?" he asked. "Thirteen," she said. "Humph," he said. "Then you don't look thirteen. How old are you really?" "Nine," she said. He said, "Don't tell me this whole thing is a joke. You must be thirteen years old." "Nine," she said. "Nine. Well, you must have thought you were playing a game," he said. She sat in the police station, waiting for an hour, but no one came for her. Eventually, she got up and went out of the police station. Then, back in the station, she asked, "Is this thing still going?" The cop looked down at her driver's license, shook his head, "It looks like it's expired. If you want to drive, I'll have to suspend your license." "What if I come back and try again? What if I get it again?" "Sorry," the cop said. "You can try. There's a test you'll have to take. You pass that and I'll give you your license back. Until then, no license." But she didn't want to take the test unless she had to. She never did. At the same table as the man behind the desk was a middle-aged woman with a badge and a gun. "What's your name?" the woman asked. "Marian Williams." "Why did you ask for your driver's license?" "I'm going to drive now," she said. "I'm glad to hear it. But I'm going to take you to a DMV office to have your driving test." "I don't have to take the test. I'm old enough." "I'm sorry, honey," the woman said. "How old are you?" "I don't know. I don't know how old I am. I've always been here. I've just always been here." "I know what you mean. There's something like that about my father. He was here for more than thirty years, at the same table, at this desk, never wanted to leave, until he died. They say the old people go to heaven." The woman looked at her with kind eyes. "Have you ever had people you don't know come up to you asking for your license?" "Yes, once." "Did you give them your license?" "No." "You must have had good luck." "Yes, I guess so." "I'll be right back," she said. "I'm going to go get you your test papers." She went behind the counter and got her test papers and then she returned, walked to the back, where the woman sat behind a desk, and put them in front of her. "Have you ever had your license suspended?" "Yes." "Do you want to do it again?" "Yes." "Well, you're going to. You're going to take this test and I'm going to give you your license back, but you're going to make sure, when you get it, that the clerk writes 'suspended' on the front of your license." "What's on the back of my license?" "You ask me, why don't you read it yourself?" "No, I want to know what's on the back of it, please. " "Just say your mother's maiden name." "Don't tell me, that's what you want me to say." The woman smiled. "Well, honey, I guess we won't need to know your mother's maiden name, will we? Just tell us what's on the back of your license." The woman handed her a few more papers, a form. "Now, there's a fine for not having your license," she said. "It can be as much as a thousand dollars. We'd like to collect it, if we can." "I don't have a thousand dollars," she said. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Don't be afraid to ask. When you come to the part where they ask you to write your license number and the date, put it down just like it's written on the back of your license. I'll write down the number for you." In the DMV office, she started to ask if it was okay to write down the license number. But before she could get the words out of her mouth the clerk wrote the number on the form. Marian watched, as she watched people come in, sit down, and write down their license numbers. All the while she waited, she kept thinking about what to do with the license. What could she do with it? Keep it with her? Leave it in the window of her car? Drive to the next town and lose it? At the DMV office, she had been given a big piece of paper and some pens. "Make sure you write your name under the number you just wrote," the clerk told her. "That's easy," she said, and started writing. In the police station, the cop was looking at the papers the woman had given her. "It says 'Marian Williams' on the back of your license," he said. "I know," she said. He nodded. "This is your first test, right?" "Yes." "And it says, 'suspended.'" "It does." "If you get it wrong, and you'll get it wrong, I'm going to give you a thousand dollars. "Is it all right if I write down my license number now?" He nodded. "Sure. Just make sure you write down the number you just wrote on the form." When she got home that night, she went into the kitchen, got a pencil, and wrote the number on the back of her license. The next day, she tried again. When she went to the counter she told the woman behind the counter what she was going to do. "I know it's hard for you to say this, honey, but you'll have to say, 'My mother's maiden name is Mary Barker.' She wrote down the license number, then she wrote her mother's name and her mother's maiden name on the form. Then she wrote the driver's license number on the back of her license. The woman behind the counter looked at her with sad eyes. "This is going to be very difficult for you, honey." "I don't think it will be." "I know. But it's going to be very hard for you, especially with this cop sitting behind me looking over my shoulder. It's going to make me nervous to have to look him in the eye." "Why don't you look him in the eye?" "He's not looking at me. I know he's not looking at me." "But he's looking at me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I mean, I'm so sorry." "What are you sorry about?" "I'm sorry it's so hard." "What's so hard about it?" "This cop's just like a child. He's going to keep saying, 'Don't do it. Don't do it.'" "Well, it's not going to be hard for him, is it?" "Yes, it is, because he's always sitting behind a desk and I'm behind a counter, and we're the only two people here. It's like being in a movie and just watching myself." The woman behind the counter looked at her with kind eyes. "Well, honey, it is hard. But we're going to try. We're going to try real hard." She smiled. "You are so kind. Thank you." They sat at her kitchen table, the woman behind the counter and she, and they talked for a long time. They talked about life, and children, and marriage, and about the woman who had come to the DMV in Virginia, and had been taken away. At the end of the conversation, the woman behind the counter handed her a stack of her test papers, a stack that was as tall as Marian's shoulders. In the kitchen, she stood at the sink and opened one of the top windows and started to pour the sink out onto the grass and weeds. "Are you sure this is the way you want it?" she asked. The woman just stood and stared. "This is what I'm going to do." She held the paper in the sink and poured it out. The woman behind the counter just stood and stared. Then she got up and walked toward the sink and peeked inside the paper. "Will it do?" "Oh yes." "Will it all do?" "We'll find out, won't we?" The woman turned and walked to her car, and when she got in she started the engine, and headed down the road. The road led to where the road begins to wind. At first, the road is a long one, and the houses are far apart. But as the road starts to twist and twist, the houses get closer and closer together. Marian took the license back to her car and put it under her seat, where no one could see it. Then she drove to the school, and parked, and took out all her stuff and put it into her suitcase. Then she got back in the car and turned on the radio. A song came on and for a little while she listened to the song, then turned the radio off. She looked at the paper in the sink and she shook her head. She walked back to the car and she got in and sat in the car, not moving, while she let the tears come. By the time she went back to her room, the sky was getting dark. Her mother was watching television. "I'm going out," she said. "Where?" "Just out." "Where are you going to go?" "I'm going to a place I went to when I was younger." "Where?" "It's a place on the other side of town." "Are you going to stay there tonight?" "No. Not all night." She got her coat. "I have to do something." "Something about your license?" "No." "About the cop?" "No." "Then why are you going out? "I have to." "What if you go out and someone recognizes you?" "They'll be able to recognize me." "Marian!" "I'm okay, mother." She went to her purse and took out her gun. She loaded a bullet into it and then she slipped it into the side of her belt. The woman on TV was wearing her glasses and she was talking to a woman who had a long yellow- gray bun on her head. "Do you know?" the woman on TV asked. "No," the woman with the bun said. Marian sat in her room, watching the old people on television. She could see them in her mind, and she could see her own face. On the television, they were having fun and she could have fun, too. She pulled out her gun and she put it to her head, and then she pulled it away and left it to herself, left it in her pillow, like she did when she was little, and was going to go and take a bath, and go down to her room, and sit in her room and think. Then she stood up and picked up her suitcase and took it to the door. She looked in the window and she could see her mother sitting on the couch, staring at the television, and Marian opened the door, and walked out. # 4 The End of the World as You Know It When Marian had been gone for a little while, the woman came in and opened the door, and turned on the lights. Then she turned and looked at her mother. "Come look at this." "What?" "Look at this." Her mother went into her room, and Marian came to the door, and then she walked into the kitchen. "Look at this." The woman was sitting at the table. She had a sheet of paper in her lap, and she was pointing to an area of the paper. "What's that?" "Come look at this." "What is it?" "It's a drawing