to say?”
“Nah, that’s not even the problem. She can have the frickin’ money from the house. She was the one who needed to have a kitchen as big as this apartment. Counter space for the take-out, I suppose.”
“But what about my stuff?” I had a whole closet full of clothes that I didn’t wear and boxes of stuff that I hadn’t looked at in years. But I bet those Magic cards were worth a small fortune.
“Seth, I promised I wouldn’t say anything until she talked to you, so I would appreciate it if you kind of played along when she calls. You’ll have plenty of time to clear out your stuff.”
It was late and I was pretty burned out from the tournament. Maybe I was missing something.
“And, Seth, there is a bit of a bonus in this.”
“Yeah?”
“Mom wants us to keep the van. Since we have a two-car garage. I’ll need you to help me get rid of some of the junk down there. To make room. She says she’s not sure what she wants to do with it yet. So the way I see it, no reason you shouldn’t be able to drive it, after you get your license. When you’re around.”
I shake my head, like maybe I had heard that wrong.
“I get to drive it?”
“I told her that we were spoiling you, but she insisted.”
That sounded like a really good trade to me. I get to live in one place instead of two. And get a car. Who cares if it’s a dorky looking mini-van? It has a radio, a CD player and air conditioning. I could even drive it to school. Get home faster and practice more.
“Nice.”
“That’s it?” Dad says. “Nice?”
“Extremely nice,” I add with a big grin that says it all. But hadn’t he said something odd? About when I was around? I mean, when am I not around?
“Seth.” Dad was looking at the floor now, not at me. “This is where it gets a little more complicated. Mom thinks that living here, full time, it wouldn’t be the best thing for you. You know how much I’m gone, and your mother thinks it would be better for you to make the move with them to California.”
“California? Are you kidding? Living with Mom and that, that guy? Why can’t I just stay here with you? I’ve been spending most of my time here anyway.”
Dad shakes his head. “I know, I know. That’s exactly what I told your mother. But you know how she is…”
“I know I’d go crazy living in some yoga institute. I can’t even touch my toes.”
Dad looks up at me, chuckles.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not like that, Seth.”
“OK, then you move there.”
“I know,” he mumbles. “I know.”
In the background I hear the TV. A professional voice from an ad for a local used car dealer saying, “No credit? No problem!”
“Listen,” Dad says. “Mom is going to talk to you. She thinks that it would be good for you to go with her. That you could, and I quote, ‘develop spiritually.’ And one thing I agree with—it would at least get you away from that goddamned computer.”
I had heard Mom talk about the Institute and I pictured a bunch of cabins stuck into a side of a mountain and people walking around in white robes and sitting in circles, meditating for hours.
“Dad, you can’t let her do that to me. I’d go nuts.”
“That’s exactly what I told her. But you’re going to have to make the case yourself. You know she doesn’t agree with a damn thing I say. She wants you to at least make a trip out there and see it for yourself. She tells me they’ve got an excellent high school right on the premises.”
I can only imagine what kind of high school that would be. The curriculum would probably be all yoga, Zen meditation and mantra memorization, with breaks for tofu and organic greens. I’m sure there wouldn’t be a computer within miles.
So when Mom calls later that night we have an hour shout fest. She and her boyfriend are living in some sort of apartment at the Institute and they want me to move in. They’ve got this sort of porch room that I’d have all to myself. I manage to get her to admit that not only is there no broadband at her place, there’s not even a TV.
“Honey, it will be so good for you,” she says. “Think of it as a fresh start. I’ve toured the high school and the teachers are just amazing. It’s nothing like what you’re used to. They’ve got an integrated curriculum that focuses on developing the entire spiritual being of each of their students. Their arts program is wonderful. You could start drawing again!”
I groan. When I was about five I got into drawing dragons and Mom thought I was some sort of artistic genius. She even got me a private art tutor for a few months until he tried to get me to draw something besides dragons.
Finally I can see that I have no choice but to agree to visit. Just one more trip to California. Like father, like son. On the road again.
14.
The three days in California at Mom’s Institute feels like a month. At first, she’s telling me that there’s no computers. I don’t see even one TV. Instead I have to go to a bunch of these group meetings and I don’t know why, but they have a million questions for me about computer gaming. Then we go for endless walks and waste at least an hour at each meal, sitting around and talking. But then, out of the blue, they invite me do this experiment and take me behind locked doors where, to my amazement, there’s a computer and a broadband connection. They wire my head with a dozen plugs and have me play a game, while all these machines are clicking and tracking my Starfare brain waves.
When I finally get home from the airport it’s close to midnight. Even though I’m exhausted I check my email and see a couple from DT. I log onto Starfare, slip on my headset, and catch him between games to tell him about the trip. How weird it was out there. Especially the brain wave thing.
“You won’t believe this,” I say. “This guy who runs the place and this scientist. They think playing Starfare is like Zen meditation.”
“It’s got to be at least as good as sitting cross legged and humming ‘om,’” DT says.
I tell him I’ve got to get some sleep and sign off. I’m out for fourteen straight hours and must miss a long and heated phone conversation. Because Dad comes out of his study while I’m eating my second bowl of Lucky Charms.
“Seth, you know how stubborn your mom can be, right?”
I nod.
“Well we’ve been on the phone—more than once—and she’s been scheming again. She’s got you lined up to work at his summer camp they run. She wants you to fly back out in a week.”
I start to stutter in protest but Dad lifts up his hand and silences me.
“Now here’s the deal,” he says, pulling up a chair
