Chapter 7 continued

    “Dad, can we go to lunch now?” Rob said.
    We stood and, as we started to leave, Karen asked me to carry her. I gathered her into my arms. “You’re getting too big for this.”
    Rob said, “Dad, I want to come to the discussion this month.”
    “These are grown up discussions, Rob.”
    “You said that the other day when I wanted to go to lunch with you and Ben.”
    “This is different.”
    “You didn’t mean it about loving us, did you?”
    “Of course, I did, Rob, but these discussions are about ideas. I don’t want you to hear things you’re not ready for.”
    “Don’t treat me like a kid.”
    “Let’s see what your mother says.”
    “You’ll let her talk you out of it.”
    “No, I won’t.”
    “Then you have to be prepared. Tell her it’s important we do real stuff together, and not just go to the park to play ball.”
    After lunch, I took the kids home. Sara objected to my taking Rob out on a school night, but relented when I told her he and I needed to do real stuff, and not just go to the park to play ball.”
    I tried again to call Maria but without luck.

I was in no mood to play HOOPS, but I had to get Michael to agree to come to the discussion, so I met him at the gym about four o’clock as planned. He was on the court when I arrived. The first thing he said when he saw me was,     “Sara told me she’s filing for divorce.”
    “No lectures.”
    “Sara said something happened to make you think your work had no value. She said you mentioned Saint Thomas, and I told her of the scandal you caused at prep school when you learned how he quit writing. So tell me, now that you think you know from personal experience, what did happen to Saint Thomas?”
    “I can’t talk about it.”
    “I can’t make you talk if you’re not ready, but don’t take long. Time’s running out on your marriage.”
    “I signed the divorce agreement yesterday.”
    Michael said, “You jerk,” as I walked to the locker room to change into my sweats.
    We tossed a coin to decide honors for the first shot. Michael won. He took position at the top of the key for his shot. His went in; mine missed.
    “Are you coming to New Orleans for the conference?”
    “Why do you want me there? You’re always complaining that I have foot-in-mouth disease. Aren’t you afraid I’ll muck things up?”
    Michael faced the basket from the sideline and lofted a two-handed shot over his head. Swish. “Actually, I need someone to stir the pot.”
    I missed my shot. “I can’t afford the trip.”
    “I’ll cover your expenses.” He took another set shot—a right-handed hook. It went in.
    “I’ll come to New Orleans if you come to my discussion group on Monday night.” I missed again.
    Michael made a two-handed lay-up off the boards. “No can do. I have an important dinner meeting with the Father General on Monday.”
    I made my lay-up, but with only one hand. “How badly do you want me in New Orleans?”
    Michael stood with the ball on his hip and thought for a moment. “Okay, I can have dinner with the Father General on Tuesday night if it’s really that important to you that I be there.”
    “It is.”
    Michael’s next shot was a one-handed jumper from ten feet out. He made it, and I missed—H-O-O-P-S. I hadn’t won a single point. It was the first time Michael ever shut me out. My consolation was that I had his commitment to come to the discussion Monday night.
    I made another call to Maria. Again, no answer. Could she have gone out of town?

That evening, Elaine had her taxi stop at my hotel. “Where are we having dinner?” I asked as I got in.
    “There’s a new French restaurant I want to try.” She looked and sounded tired.
    “How goes the funding drive for your think tank on quantum gravity?”
    Elaine answered with a sigh. “Private money’s dried up since Congress pulled funding for the supercollider. I may have to close the center.”
    I said, “Might as well. There’s never going to be a coherent theory of quantum gravity. Relativity and quantum theory are mutually exclusive.”
    Elaine glared at me.
    “Don’t get mad at me, Elaine. Hegel was wrong and Ben is right—synthesis of opposites is not possible.”
    “You and Ben Sachs are full of it.”
    “You’ll be glad to hear I’ve stopped trying to discover a Final Story.”
    “That may be the first intelligent career decision you’ve ever made.”
    “In fact, I’ve quit writing.”
    “So that’s why Sara’s upset. How are you going to support your family, Paul?”
    I had no answer.
    “Sara says you signed the divorce papers yesterday.”
    “Yeah.”
    “If you get divorced, it will finish mother.”
    “She’ll outlast both of us.”
    Elaine stared vacantly out the taxi window on her side. “The cancer has spread, Paul. Mother’s dying. I want you to come back to San Francisco with me and reconcile with her before it’s too late.”
    “Now’s not a good time.”
    “If you miss this chance to make peace with her you’ll never forgive yourself.”
    This was the opening I needed. “Okay, I’ll go back, but I want you to come to our discussion meeting Monday evening.”
    “I can’t believe you’d try to bargain with me about this.”
    “Well?”
    “My flight to San Francisco is Monday evening.”
    “Change your flight.”
    “How do I know you won’t renege?”
    “Come to the discussion and we’ll go back together on Tuesday.”
    Elaine shrugged in resignation. “You’re impossible.”

Chapter 8