She can see that I’m not up for much, so she finds a tram that takes us near Old Town Square, and we walk back from there. The room is still hot, but I don’t care. I fall onto the bed and melt into the mattress. I can hear Mimi marching about the room.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“The other things I could have said.” Mimi flops down on the bed beside me. “To Trevor and Nigel.”

“Our young felons?”

“Clever stuff. Cut-them-off-at-the-knees remarks. God, I wish I could do it over again.”

“We could have gotten hurt.”

“True enough,” says Mimi. “You were in no condition to fight them off if they had gotten physical.”

“But they would have had to go through you to get to me.”

“That’s sweet.” Mimi giggles. “And you know what? I’m horny.”

“Again?”

“It was the excitement. I think it was the excitement.”

“I thought you said women get sensual.”

“Are you horny?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe a little?”

“I just spent the afternoon throwing up.”

Mimi slides her leg over my groin and runs her hand under my shirt. “How about now?”

I WAITED UNTIL MONDAY to take the car. My mother worked from eight until six. I figured I’d go over to Dr. Philips’s house just after she left and grab the keys, drive around for three or four hours, and then put the car back in the garage, with no one the wiser.

The keys for the car were on a hook behind the front door. Next to the key hook was a notepad with a pen attached. There were three items on the pad. The first said “Insurance review.” The second simply said “Gauge.” The third said “Call Howard.”

I told myself that when I was rich, I was going to have hooks for my keys and a notepad to remind me of things that needed to be done.

So I had the key, but I couldn’t just take the car and drive it around town. I wasn’t sure how many 1960 red Plymouth Fury convertibles there were in Roseville, but lots of people knew my mother, which meant they knew me. And if they saw me in the car, they’d know that the two of us didn’t belong together.

Instead, I headed up Highway 80 towards Auburn and the mountains, a full tank of gas, the top down, the wind in my hair, the sun shining. I remember promising myself that this was the way my life was going to be.

Roseville to Truckee was about eighty-five miles. A little over two hours non-stop. I made it there in under that. Dr. Philips had great taste in cars. The Plymouth flew up the highway like a rocket bound for the moon.