He was
content to see her alone at their weekly breakfast. Quite content. In
fact, meditation was helpful after breakfast with Mother. He remembered
to exhale, and he loosened his grip on the wheel.
Trumpets blared above guitars. It was a sunny day, a good day to be
outside. He started the car and drove away. When he reached the
intersection where he normally turned toward home, he steered right and
then impulsively left, veering back into the traffic going straight
ahead. Someone leaned on his horn and passed him, too close. The driver
turned his head. Arthur could see his mouth moving but couldn't hear
the words. Fucking something something something. It hadn't been that
dangerous. Amazing how people need to get angry, be righteous.
"Get a life," Arthur said. The man cut in front of him. A bumper
sticker declared: "My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student." I could knock
him right off the road, Arthur thought. His mood brightened, and he
floored the gas pedal. "Don't mess with honor students," he said,
roaring past. He reached for the radio and found a Spanish music
station.
Gambling debts--what a laugh. He had been to two conventions in Vegas
and never gambled once. Give your money to a casino? Stupid. The flow
of traffic carried him to the edge of the city. He kept going and then
turned toward the mountains. The higher he drove, the better he felt.
He had lived entirely in California except for business trips and
visits to his father in Hawaii.
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