The Do-Right by Lisa Sandlin Page B

certain amplitude, and when added, the sum is zero—”
    â€œLost you.”
    â€œOK, OK, wait. Our kind of time, one o’clock, two o’clock, summer, fall is just the most probable direction, the most probable path in space out of lots of other paths, the one the most people take.”
    â€œA path.”
    â€œYeah.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Time’s a dimension.”
    â€œOK. So on one path, you lived this life. Or you could of took another road and lived in China.”
    â€œOr Africa or Chicago. If I had taken a less probable path.”
    â€œWell, there’s the deal, isn’t it? The scientist should have told us how you change paths. Plenty people would.”
    â€œI would. My mom keeps going on about how these years are precious, but I just want to rocket forward. Does that make sense?”
    â€œWantin’ years to be minutes? Oh, yeah. I can understand that.”
    Very small smile. “I knew you could.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œJust knew.” He couldn’t hold eye contact and chugged the last of his beer.
    The conversation stalled.
    Didn’t bother Delpha. In all her life to come, no matter how long or how short, there was no way sufficient quiet could accumulate to balance out the years of noise. The light fell on his face, bony now, the kind of face men grew into. She put stooped Isaac in a brick college, tie, hair trimmed up, touch of gray, professor like Dr. Einstein. Made him stand up straight. Gave him a tall blonde wife with glasses, kids.
    She got two more beers from the icebox. When she putdown the bottles and sat, Isaac broke the silence. “Education is…was this huge deal to my parents. Man, talk about saving. By the time I was eight, they’d saved up my whole college tuition so I could go to anywhere.”
    â€œSo, why aren’t you going anymore?”
    â€œOh.” He looked down at the scarred wood table. “I will. Just not right now. My mom thinks she doesn’t need any help but she does.”
    â€œWhat’s your dad say?
    His lips mashed in. “My dad’s…he passed away.”
    â€œOh. Sorry to hear about that. Boys need their dads.”
    He didn’t look up. “Girls too.”
    â€œThat’s true. Just, boys that didn’t have a daddy, they’re either searchin’ or taking it out on a woman lotta their life.”
    â€œOh, great.”
    Delpha pressed the barrel of cold bottle into her forehead and counted shit, shit, shit . She cleared her throat. “Know what. I can run off terrible at the mouth.”
    They sat there. He glanced up at her through his lashes, long lashes for a boy. “No, wait. Guys that didn’t have a dad, did they tell you that?”
    She shifted sideways on the stool so that she faced the refrigerator. “No, Isaac, and that’s what I mean. Bunch of women told me that.”
    â€œOh.” He nodded. They sat. After a while his fingers tapped her forearm. “So, did you go to college?”
    She didn’t laugh. “No.”
    â€œWould you have liked to?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat would you have studied? I mean, like your major?”
    â€œWhen I know the answer to that, I’ll know what I’m saving money for. What are you studying?”
    â€œScience. The only other thing I ever liked as much was mythology.” He shook his head. “I was this dorky kid. Not the biggest Superman fan, surprisingly. Well, not true. Superman’s Return to Krypton was cool. But Theseus, Perseus, Dedalus, they’re major league. And Zeus and Thor. I wanted to hurl lightning on people.” A pause. “I sound five years old, right?”
    â€œSome people need lightning. Tell me ’bout your dad.”
    Isaac leaned his forehead between index and thumb, so that his fingers shaded his eyes. “He’s…He was”—huge, soft, helpless smile—“the best.” He sniffed