s, of course! I remember now," Arthur said, falsely triumphant. "I
thought she had great promise." He tossed his hands. "But--life--who
knows?" He smiled acceptance.

"She married an idiot."

"Ah," Arthur said. She hadn't married Penn, at any rate.

"On the positive side, they have two wonderful children."

Only children don't get to be uncles. "Lucky Auntie," Arthur said. "Do
give her my best. There's biology and then there's _biology_."

"Yes," she said. "Well, I must be going." Arthur watched her leave,
wishing for a drink of water. He was fifteen years older than Penn, and
Penn was a lot older than Pookie; it was absurd to be jealous. They did
make a handsome couple. At least they had the one time they'd driven by
in an old Porsche with the top down--Penn talking, his head turned to
Pookie. He was still youthful. If anyone could manage a relationship
with a big age difference it would be Penn. No doubt he worked in a
hospital or a clinic surrounded by women. I forgive myself for giving
her a B, Arthur thought. It should have been a C, but he had been
unnecessarily cold with her in class. Let it go.

He emerged from his thoughts too late. "Chop wood, carry water," Martin
said and launched into an explanation of the latest fund drive.

"Of course," Arthur said. "After the I.R.S., my gambling debts, the
Sierra Club, and Psi Upsilon, you shall have everything."

"Thank you, Arthur. We know we can count on you. You have been a great
help to the zendo."

"Chop wood, carry water," Arthur said, trying to remember where he'd
parked the Land Rover. He walked away trustingly and turned at the
corner. There it was, by the bodega near the end of the block. He
lowered the car windows and sat listening to mariachi music pouring
from the store.

The beat was attractive, maddening. It made him want to be a part of
things, to dance in the town square. He worked hard. But. He never had
any--fun. The word caught in his throat, emerged, and hung before him
like the coast of Antarctica. He gripped the steering wheel. Mother had
been on him about that earlier. _You ought to go out and have a good
time, Arthur. Never mind those science trips._ Mother specialized in
good times. Her round of social events would drive him crazy. 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.

Tr