“I do,” Freddy said. “I feel that my life has meaning there. I can’t do any good over here. I’m just not built for here. In Africa, I thrive, although it’s very hard. Africa generates and consumes at an accelerated rate. You can feel it buzz. An hour of rain can turn a desert green in a day, the grass will grow three inches in a week, and two more days of sun can turn the green brown. Production, consumption. It’s so instant. It’s just…super. You can understand the whole ‘cradle of civilization’ business the minute you take a breath over there. They gave me a medical leave. I just came home to recover. This is a horseshit life back here.”

“Joanna and I did Kenya and Tanzania just before she died—what, two summers ago? I guess that’s just Disneyland compared to Cameroon, but I think I know what you mean.”

At these words, Freddy did an ultra-femme double take, and Blaine’s suspicions were confirmed. He thought of AIDS, and found himself cringing inwardly, as if in the presence of a vampire.

“Shit,” Freddy said, “I didn’t know you guys went to Africa. What about your pathological fear of lions? You told me when I was little that a lion was going to eat you.”

“You are right. I thought a lion would get me. As a kid, I saw the picture. My mother said it was a dream. They took me to the doctor, but it wasn’t a dream. It was some sort of ESP. I was terrified that Barnum and Bailey would drive by in a convoy, have an accident, and let a lion loose—that it would make its way to my house and eat me. This was my greatest fear.”

“But you went to Kenya. Why would you go there? To tempt fate?”

Blaine said, “Well, when we rented the cherry farm out, up in Oregon—didn’t I tell you this? When we rented the cherry farm to those hippies, the lions almost did get me.”

“What lions on the cherry farm?” Freddy said.

“Jesus!” Blaine said. “I drove up to the cherry farm in Salem to check on the property when your dad was in the nuthouse. I knew something was going on, and I was right.”

“What?”