‘…’ I said.
‘I’m sorry about that. It’s an awfully pretty sound. So beautiful to the spirit and so soothing to the nerves.’
‘…’ I said.
‘That’s a real shame,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘I didn’t know you felt that way about it,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t harm a brick on this library’s head. I’ll treat your library like a child’s birthday cake in a little yellow box that I’m carrying home in my arms from the bakery because carrying it by the string would be too risky.
‘I’ve got to be careful of that dog up ahead. He might bite me and I’d drop the cake. There, I’m past him. Good dog.
‘Oh, oh, there’s a little lady coming towards me. Got to be careful. She might have a heart attack and collapse in front of me and I might trip over her body. I won’t take my eyes off her. There, she’s passing me. Everything’s going to be all right. Your library is safe,’ Foster said.
‘…’ Vida said, laughing.
‘Thank you, honey,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘I love this place,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘I’ll treat your patrons like saintly eggshells. I won’t break one of them,’ Foster said.
‘…’ Vida said, laughing.
‘Oh, honey, you’re too nice,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘Stop worrying, kid. I know what I’m supposed to do and I’ll do it the best I can and that’s all I can say,’ Foster said.
‘…’ Vida said.
‘Isn’t it the truth and he’s not old either. He’s just a kid,’ Foster said.
‘…’ I said.
‘I don’t think I ever really appreciated the peace and quiet, the downhomeness of the caves until now. You’ve opened up a whole new world for me, kid. I should get down on my hands and knees and thank you with all my heart for what you’ve done.’
‘…’ I said.
‘Ah, California!’ Foster said.
Foster’s Heart
Foster insisted on carrying our bag out to the van. It was light and halfway through the dawn. Foster was busy sweating away in his T-shirt, even though we found the morning to be a little chilly.
During the years that I had known Foster, I’d never seen him when he wasn’t sweating. It was probably brought about by the size of his heart. I was always certain that his heart was as big as a cantaloup and sometimes I went to sleep thinking about the size of Foster’s heart.
Once Foster’s heart appeared to me in a dream. It was on the back of a horse and the horse was going into a bank and the bank was being pushed off a cloud. I couldn’t see what was pushing the bank off, but it’s strange to think what would push a bank off a cloud with Foster’s heart in it, falling past the sky.
‘What do you have in this bag?’ Foster said. ‘It’s so light I don’t think there’s anything in it.’
He was following after Vida who led the way with a delightful awkwardness, looking so perfect and beautiful as not to be with us, as to be alone in some different contemplation of the spirit or an animal stepladder to religion.
‘Never you mind our secrets,’ Vida said, not turning back.
‘How would you like to visit my rabbit trap someday? Foster said.
‘And be your Bunny girl?’ Vida said.
‘I guess you’ve heard that one,’ Foster said.
‘I’ve heard them all.’
‘I’ll bet you have,’ Foster said, falling cleanly past the sky.
Vida Meets the Van
There were leftover pieces of blank white paper on the sidewalk from the woman last night. They looked terribly alone. Foster put our little bag in the van.
‘There’s your bag in the van. Now you’re sure you know how to drive this thing?’ Foster said. ‘It’s a van.’
‘Yes, I know how to drive a van. I know how to drive anything that has wheels. I’ve even flown an aeroplane,’ Vida said.
‘An aeroplane?’ Foster said.
‘I flew one up in Montana a few summers ago. It was fun,’ Vida said.
‘You don’t look like the aeroplane-flying type,’ Foster said. ‘Hell, a few summers ago you were in the cradle. Are you sure you weren’t flying a stuffed toy?’
‘Don’t worry about your van,’ Vida said, returning the conversation from the sky to the ground.
‘You’ve got to drive carefully,’ Foster said. ‘This van has its own personality.’
‘It’s in good hands,’ Vida said. ‘My God, you’re almost as bad with your van as he is with his library.’
‘Damn! all right,’ Foster said. ‘Well, I’ve told you what to do and now I guess you’d better go and do it. I’ll stay here and take care of the asylum while you’re gone. I imagine it won’t be dull if that lady I met last night is any example of what’s going on here.’
There were pieces of white paper on the ground.
Foster put his arms around both of us and gave us a very friendly, consoling hug as if to say with his arms that everything was going to be all right and he would see us in the evening.
‘Well, kids, good luck.’
‘Thank you very much,’ Vida said, turning and giving Foster a kiss on the cheek. They looked heroically like father and daughter around each other’s arms and cheek to cheek in the classic style that has brought us to these years.
‘In you go,’ Foster said.
We got into the van. It suddenly felt awfully strange for me to be in a vehicle again. The metallic egg-like quality of the van was very surprising and in some ways I had to discover the Twentieth Century all over again.
Foster stood there on the curb carefully watching Vida at the controls of the van.
‘Ready?’ she said, turning towards me with a little smile on her face.
‘Yeah, it’s been a long time,’ I said. ‘I feel as if I’m in a time machine.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Just relax. I know what I’m doing.’
‘Al1 right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’
Vida started the van as if she had been born to the instrument panel, to the wheel and to the pedals.
‘Sounds good,’ Vida said.
Foster was pleased with her performance, nodding at her as if she were an equal. Then he gave her the go signal and she took it and we were off to visit Dr Garcia who was waiting for us that very day in Tijuana, Mexico.
Book Four: Tijuana
The Freewayers
I had forgotten how the streets in San Francisco go to get to the freeway. Actually, I had forgotten how San Francisco went.
It was really a surprise to be outside again, travelling in a vehicle again. It had been almost three years. My God, I was twenty-eight when I went into the library and now I was thirty-one years old.
‘What street is this?’ I said.
‘Divisadero,’ Vida said.
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s Divisadero all right.’
Vida looked over at me very sympathetically. We were stopped at a red light, next to a place that sold flying chickens and spaghetti. I had forgotten that there were places like that.
Vida took one hand off the wheel and gave me a little pat on the knee. ‘My poor dear hermit,’ she said.
We drove down Divisadero and saw a man washing the windows of a funeral parlour with a garden hose. He was spraying the hose against the second-floor windows. It was not a normal thing to see, so early in the morning.
Then Vida made a turn off Divisadero and went around the block. ‘Oak Street,’ she said. ‘You remember Oak Street? It’ll take us to the freeway and down to the airport. You remember the airport, don’t you?’