astonishment.
“That laugh tells me a lot about you, believe it or not. And the first thing it tells me is that you’ve been fighting with Edmund again, despite what I told you.”
To whatever degree such a thing is possible in human beings, Casey was his brother’s day-and-night opposite. He wore a white peasant shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of old Levis, and hippie sandals, like an escapee from the late sixties. The shirt had flowers and vines embroidered on the front—the work of his girlfriend Nancy, who taught in a Montessori school in Seal Beach. Casey’s shoulders and chest were muscled from twenty years of surfing, and his hair was uncut and scraggly, as if he hadn’t washed the salt out of it after yesterday’s session. Although he didn’t eat meat or white bread, his usual breakfast was the topend of a six-pack, and, if he could find a restaurant open, Mexican food. He pulled around onto the Highway and directly into the parking lot of the Supreme Doughnuts, where he cut the engine.
“So what’s wrong?” he asked. “You’ve got some kind of vibe here.”
“I’ve got a hell of a vibe,” Dave said, looking straight out through the window. “If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be burying your brother in the vacant lot about now. I might yet.”
Casey shook his head, no longer joking around. “You shouldn’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.”
“He could get to the Pope.”
“The Pope wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t lower himself that far, and neither should you. Personally, I’ve got a lifetime of dealing with Edmund, and with me it’s just water off a duck. I learned that years ago.”
“You
learned
it.”
“Just like you’d learn anything. You’ve got to understand that he’s a game-player. Just don’t play with him. Life’s not about winning and losing, you know. That kind of thinking is toxic.”
“Spare me, okay? You know as well as I do that dealing with people like your brother can eat you up.”
“Me? I won’t
let
it eat me up.”
“You’re human.”
“That’s why I don’t have to let it eat me up. When you’re human you can throw it out. If you’re a gorilla you’ve got to beat on your chest and make noises. I choose not to be a gorilla, that’s all.”
“You mean you can
talk
it out. Emote.”
“No. I mean
throw
it out. Close your eyes and picture the wind blowing it away. Watch it get small like a kite rising in the sky. Pretty soon you lose sight of it. You cut the string, and it’s just gone. Most of the time it doesn’t come back.”
“Where’d you read that?”
“I made it up.”
“It sounds like something out of a low-rent self-help book.”
“Who cares what it sounds like? Just do it.”
“I can’t just
do
it. Now you sound like a shoe commercial.”
“Sure you can. You just don’t know it yet. And forget what I sound like. This isn’t easy, trying to talk sense to you. You’re slippery as hell, man. You’re like a fish. Every time the talk gets serious, you crack a joke and change the subject. I tell you the truth here, and you talk about shoe commercials.
Listen
to me, for God’s sake.”
“I think your brother tried to kill me with the tiki. How’s that for a joke?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not making this up. He unbelted the damned tiki and shoved it off the railing. Nearly hit me in the head.”
“How close?”
“A couple of feet. My back was turned.”
“That’s his idea of fun again,” Casey said uneasily. “That’s part of the game. You see, from his point of view, the ball’s in your court now. He’s waiting for you to pick it up and knock the hell out of it. But don’t do it. Just let it lie there. Make
him
pick it up. Pretty soon he’ll get tired of it.”
“Edmund’s games are getting a little too vicious. I think part of him—a big part of him—wanted like hell to drop that tiki right on my head. He was playing around with the
“That laugh tells me a lot about you, believe it or not. And the first thing it tells me is that you’ve been fighting with Edmund again, despite what I told you.”
To whatever degree such a thing is possible in human beings, Casey was his brother’s day-and-night opposite. He wore a white peasant shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of old Levis, and hippie sandals, like an escapee from the late sixties. The shirt had flowers and vines embroidered on the front—the work of his girlfriend Nancy, who taught in a Montessori school in Seal Beach. Casey’s shoulders and chest were muscled from twenty years of surfing, and his hair was uncut and scraggly, as if he hadn’t washed the salt out of it after yesterday’s session. Although he didn’t eat meat or white bread, his usual breakfast was the topend of a six-pack, and, if he could find a restaurant open, Mexican food. He pulled around onto the Highway and directly into the parking lot of the Supreme Doughnuts, where he cut the engine.
“So what’s wrong?” he asked. “You’ve got some kind of vibe here.”
“I’ve got a hell of a vibe,” Dave said, looking straight out through the window. “If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be burying your brother in the vacant lot about now. I might yet.”
Casey shook his head, no longer joking around. “You shouldn’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.”
“He could get to the Pope.”
“The Pope wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t lower himself that far, and neither should you. Personally, I’ve got a lifetime of dealing with Edmund, and with me it’s just water off a duck. I learned that years ago.”
“You
learned
it.”
“Just like you’d learn anything. You’ve got to understand that he’s a game-player. Just don’t play with him. Life’s not about winning and losing, you know. That kind of thinking is toxic.”
“Spare me, okay? You know as well as I do that dealing with people like your brother can eat you up.”
“Me? I won’t
let
it eat me up.”
“You’re human.”
“That’s why I don’t have to let it eat me up. When you’re human you can throw it out. If you’re a gorilla you’ve got to beat on your chest and make noises. I choose not to be a gorilla, that’s all.”
“You mean you can
talk
it out. Emote.”
“No. I mean
throw
it out. Close your eyes and picture the wind blowing it away. Watch it get small like a kite rising in the sky. Pretty soon you lose sight of it. You cut the string, and it’s just gone. Most of the time it doesn’t come back.”
“Where’d you read that?”
“I made it up.”
“It sounds like something out of a low-rent self-help book.”
“Who cares what it sounds like? Just do it.”
“I can’t just
do
it. Now you sound like a shoe commercial.”
“Sure you can. You just don’t know it yet. And forget what I sound like. This isn’t easy, trying to talk sense to you. You’re slippery as hell, man. You’re like a fish. Every time the talk gets serious, you crack a joke and change the subject. I tell you the truth here, and you talk about shoe commercials.
Listen
to me, for God’s sake.”
“I think your brother tried to kill me with the tiki. How’s that for a joke?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not making this up. He unbelted the damned tiki and shoved it off the railing. Nearly hit me in the head.”
“How close?”
“A couple of feet. My back was turned.”
“That’s his idea of fun again,” Casey said uneasily. “That’s part of the game. You see, from his point of view, the ball’s in your court now. He’s waiting for you to pick it up and knock the hell out of it. But don’t do it. Just let it lie there. Make
him
pick it up. Pretty soon he’ll get tired of it.”
“Edmund’s games are getting a little too vicious. I think part of him—a big part of him—wanted like hell to drop that tiki right on my head. He was playing around with the
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