hair fall down over her feet and hands.
Marty disappears into the creek bed and emerges on
the other side. He walks slowly, keeping his eyes on the
girl as he carefully steps over a bed of flowers. It doesn’t
matter what direction he chooses to sneak up on her,
though, because she does not look up. Perhaps realizing
this, he strides up to her.
She looks up and I can see her lips move, but her voice
is quiet.
47
AL RISKE
Marty squats in front of her on one knee. For about ten
minutes they seem to be talking. Occasionally she even
looks at him. He pops up, spins away, comes back, kneels.
More talking. He pushes her down backwards. She resists,
but he wins.
Because of the trees I can’t see much. I shift my
position for a better look and suddenly his fist is
pounding—four quick blows. What is he hitting? The
ground? The duffle? His own leg? Not her. She’d be
screaming.
He lets her sit up and while he is apparently talking, she
reaches out and tries to scoot the bag closer to her side.
He gets up and walks slowly away, not across the bridge
but in the opposite direction. I figure, That’s it. For sure. It’s
different this time because he didn’t run. But I’m wrong. He goes
back to her, and after a brief exchange she goes with him,
carrying her bag. I wonder what finally convinced her.
I guess he’s forgotten all about meeting me here
because they’re going in the opposite direction from the
basketball court. I should go shoot a few. I’m here. I have
the ball. Instead, I follow at a distance.
I hear Marty saying, “Does that mean you want to go
back to…”
Someone? Somewhere? I can’t make out the end of the
sentence.
“Is that what you want? Is it?”
48
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
The girl sits on the grass again and mumbles
something.
Marty says, “I can say ‘Hi’ any time I want. Hi. Hi. Hi.
Hi. Hi. I can say ‘Hi’ any time I want.”
I find another bench and wait. I really want to play
some one-on-one.
49
Good Fortune
WE’RE ALL CLUSTERED AROUND one of the high round
tables at Panda Express eating kung pao chicken and
honey walnut shrimp, among other things. When we’re
done, we open our cellophane-wrapped fortune cookies.
“What does yours say?”
Nita reads: “You should enhance your feminine side at
this time.”
Marty says: “Hey, Spencer, Nita got your fortune.”
Spencer forgets to laugh.
“If you dream it,” he reads, “it will happen.”
“False.”
That’s Marty, the eternal pessimist.
“It will happen,” Naomi says, “if you make it happen.”
Spencer shakes his head.
“To dream,” he says, “is to court disappointment.”
“Got that right, brother.”
I’m not sure I agree, but then I’m not sure I disagree.
I’ve been trying to land a teaching job ever since I
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
graduated two years ago, but four hundred resumes later, I
can’t seem to make it happen.
An ambulance goes wailing by on Stevens Creek
Boulevard. Nita waits for it to pass and then she says this:
“I had a dream that I had a pet Dodo bird and we went
skateboarding together in the park. Then, it happened.”
51
The Natural
SPENCER TALBOT IS A natural. Smoothest jump shot you’ll
ever see.
Some days it seems like everything he lets fly drops
straight through the hoop. Nothing but net.
In high school, he tells me, he made the varsity team as
a sophomore. But he took his gift for granted. Partied too
much. Got arrested. Got kicked off the team.
He sat out his whole junior year, got a second chance
as a senior.
Again he led the team in scoring. Again he threw it all
away.
Driving while fucked up.
Forget About It
THE BIKE MAKES ME a loner, which is a cool persona, but
kind of a drag, too. Nobody wants to hop on the back,
you know? I’ve got nobody to share the thrill with me.
Nita would ride with me if her mother didn’t object.
Not that she always does what her mother tells her. Mama
never liked the tattoo and doesn’t care for the pink hair
either, but the bike? Forget about it.
“You get on that bike, Nita, and that’s it!” she says.
The rest of the conversation is in Chinese, but I get it.
She doesn’t want Nita to die. She doesn’t want Kayla to
grow up without her mother.
I’m about to tell her I’ll be careful and drive slow, but
as I start to open my mouth, the look she gives me makes
me shut it fast.
The next day I put the bike on Craig’s List. It sells
within the week, helmet and leather jacket included.
The Rest Are for Me
NAOMI TORRES IS A hottie. We’ve established that, right?
Dimples, perky breasts, nice round butt?
Lucky us. Lucky her. She can easily get what she wants.
When she was a teenager, she tells us, her parents got
an unlisted number—and they wouldn’t tell her what it
was! Why not? Because they didn’t want boys calling the
house at all hours of the day and night.
“I was, like, fourteen, and I was a terrible flirt,” she
says. “I was always giving my number to cute boys, and
there seemed to be an awful lot of them around in those
days. Not like now.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asks.
“Now there’s just you,” she says. “Cutest boy on
earth.”
Spencer grins and puffs out his chest.
“Damn straight,” he says.
A minute later Naomi is telling us that she masturbates
once a day for the health benefits. This is in a noisy pizza
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
parlor in Mountain View. She isn’t shy about speaking up
and doesn’t seem to notice when heads turn.
“The other four times,” she tells us, “are just for me.”
Not original, you say? Who cares? She’s a hottie.
Marty, naturally, asks if she could use a hand.
Naomi just smiles and shakes her head.
Spencer slugs him in the shoulder.
55
Bigger Than the Rest
MARTY WATSON IS BIGGER than the rest of us, but he
wasn’t always.
He started school early, which meant he was one of the
smallest kids in his class, and he didn’t have a significant
growth spurt until near the end of high school. Then he
shot up like six, seven, eight inches.
Kids who used to push him around had another thing
coming. The new Marty worked out and didn’t take shit
from anybody.
His saving grace was that he didn’t give shit, either.
Oh, sometimes you could tell he was just itching for
someone to give him an excuse
so he could settle old
scores, but they wouldn’t dare and that seemed to be
satisfaction enough for Marty.
Still, the guy has a pretty short fuse, and I think he
forgets how intimidating he can be at six-three, two
hundred thirty pounds.
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
Lately he’s gotten a bit, well, crude, and would probably
benefit from a slap upside the head now and then. But
who’s going to do that?
On the other hand, he didn’t retaliate when Spencer
punched him.
57
Heaven on Earth
AS I WRITE THIS I’m watching the day disappear.
I’m thinking about the summer Tanya and I fell in love.
The summer I fell in love with her.
Back then, I was sure she loved me, too. But did she?
Did she really?
We went camping in the High Sierra and swam every
day in an icy alpine lake. I still get hard picturing her in her
itty-bitty bikini, the lake water trying its best to cling to
each and every one of her curves but slipping off with a
silent sigh and lying at her feet, spent but satisfied to have
had the chance to hold and caress her before evaporating
in the sun, giving up heaven on earth for heaven above
and gaining the chance to fall again.
Used Car
I NEED A CAR now and like the looks of this old Sirocco. I
offer the guy a few hundred less than he wants, a few
hundred more than I have. He refuses at first, but I leave
him my number and he calls me back the following week.
Turns out he’s moving out of the state in a U-Haul and
doesn’t want to tow the car.
To make up the difference I go to the Bank of Dad,
where I know I can get favorable terms on a loan.
The car is silver with a black interior. For some reason
I can never remember the year it was made, but it has a
tape deck, so that should tell you something.
Still, it runs great.
Not Funny
WE’RE RUNNING A SPECIAL on fresh abalone and Naomi
wants to know how much we have left.
Patrick says, “I’ve got thirty more pounds of it in the
freezer.”
Naomi shakes her head.
“Not funny,” she says.
Our motto: “We never serve frozen fish at Bistro 227;
we thaw it first.”
Close Encounter
I’M SHELVING NEW ARRIVALS in nonfiction and I can feel
someone standing very close. I turn and, unavoidably,
crash into her.
“Sorry,” I say.
“I’m not,” she says.
It’s Ariel and she’s smiling broadly.
“Oh,” I say, as quick on my feet as ever. (I haven’t seen
her since that time we hooked up and I’ve been avoiding
the bar where I ran into her.)
“So, this is where you landed.”
“It pays the bills,” I say. “Well, some of them.”
I don’t tell her about my other job.
Ariel shakes her head.
“You could do so much better,” she says.
I shrug.
“It’s a tough market.”
She fingers her necklace, which draws my eyes to her
breasts. Damn, it’s hard to look away.
AL RISKE
“I hear Nita’s doing well,” she says. “Finally got her
break.”
“With the magazine? Yeah, she’s totally stoked.”
It’s an unpaid internship, but I’m not sure Ariel knows
that.
“What would you do if you had the kind of support
she’s getting?”
So she knows Nita’s mom encouraged her to quit her
job, said she’d carry her for a while, let her get some
experience in her field, maybe finally start to put her
degree to work for her.
“My parents aren’t exactly flush right now,” I say.
They lost money in the market, which has meant Dad
won’t be able to retire any time soon. Hell, even my mom
is looking for work.
“No, but what would you do?” she asks.
I don’t answer because I don’t know. I think I’ve
contacted every school district in the state by now and my
resolve to someday teach English is waning. Maybe I
should have chosen another path, but what would that be?
“Well, think about it,” Ariel says.
Is she offering to help me? Does she have that kind of
money? (Her ex does own the woodworking plant where
she met him and I met her.)
I smile uncertainly and she turns to leave.
Over her shoulder, she mouths the words, “Call me.”
62
Disease-Fighting
Neuropeptides
I’M TOTALLY SURPRISED WHEN Naomi calls me,
midmorning, on my mobile. How, I wonder, does she
even have my number?
“So,” she says, “what are you up to, Luke?”
“I was trying to stimulate the production of disease-
fighting neuropeptides.”
“In other words, jacking off.”
“Just doing my best to emulate your daily regimen.”
“So you were thinking of me, then.”
“I supposed you could say that.”
“Do you often think of me when you masturbate?”
“Not really.”
“Just remembering your prescription for better health,”
I tell her.
AL RISKE
“That’s not really the same,” she says, disappointed.
“Next time I want you to think of me. Will you?”
“Uh, I guess…”
“Promise me.”
“Seriously?”
“Pretend it’s me stroking your bone,” she says. “You
have to take off all your clothes, though, because that’s
what I’d do. I’d strip you naked first.”
“I have to go now,” I say.
She laughs and hangs up. I have no idea why she called.
In the coming days I begin to wonder if this conversation
even took place.
64
Life
THIS IS ALL PRETTY random, isn’t it?
Like Water
PEOPLE TELL ME I need to take charge of my life.
I get it.
So far I’ve kind of just let my life happen to me.
But you know what? Overall, I’m pretty happy with
how it’s been going. I’m not sure my trying to take charge
would have changed a hell of a lot. Maybe it would have
made things worse, who knows?
I like to go with the flow. Not that I would just go
along with something I think is wrong. I wouldn’t do that.
But I’m generally happy to eat at whatever restaurant you
like, see any movie you want to see. Well, pretty much.
Not one of those Jackass movies.
Always trying to get your way isn’t going to make you
happy as far as I can see.
Also, I’ve never liked goals and deadlines. I mean, if I
want to do something, I’ll do it. If it’s important, I’ll get it
done. Otherwise…
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
Aren’t we supposed to live in the now? Isn’t that what
all the gurus say? Key to happiness and all that.
So give me a break, Okay?
I do what I can.
67
Someone Else
IN DOWNTOWN MOUNTAIN VIEW, Castro Street is lined
with restaurants—Chinese, Italian, Mexican, you name it.
Many of them have tables on the sidewalks, which is
where I spot Naomi. She’s sipping a glass of red wine and
gazing off into the distance. I stop, casting a shadow
across her table, but she doesn’t notice.
“I might have known I’d find you guys here.”
Finally, she looks up.
“Luke! How are you?”
She’s wearing a short yellow dress and looks fantastic,
as usual, her bare legs crossed and on display like works of
art.
“Spencer in the boys’ room or what?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“He just wander off? He does that sometimes. Must
have forgotten to take his meds.”
Naomi smiles at my joke.
“No, he’s not with me.”
THEN WE’D BE HAPPY
“Oh, I thought...”
I look at the half-empty glass across from her.
“I’m here with a friend,” she says.
“Is she cute?”
“What?”
“Do I want to hang around and meet her?”
I start to sit. Naomi shakes her head. I stand back up.
“That bad, huh?”
“Not your type, I wouldn’t think.”
Then I see this dude behind me. Tall, handsome, well-
dressed.
“Luke, this is Jason. Jason, Luke.”
We shake hands and look at each other quizzically but
Naomi offers no details to either of us. I decide not to ask.
“Well, I should be going,” I say. “Nice to meet you,
Jason.”
69
Telling
I DON’T KNOW WHETHER I should tell Spencer about the
encounter but I do. I mention it as casually as I can. The