As they approach the massive oak front doors, Abe and his father open them and walk out. Dr. Francis Bernard is a well-known logician who holds patents on some important computer software; he’s also been a diplomat and social activist. He is one of the calmest people Jim has ever met; very quiet, and not much like Abe, except for the sharp dark face, the black hair. Jim introduces Hana to them. Mrs. Bernard left for Maui a couple weeks before, and Abe and his father have been living together alone since that time; now Dr. Bernard is off to the airport, headed for Maui himself. The two of them shake hands. Abe says, “Well, brother…”

“Brother,” scoffs Dr. Bernard, obviously pleased. “See you in a month.” And with a quiet good-bye he’s off, into the garage.

“Come on in,” Abe says, glancing at Hana curiously.

They enter the house and follow Abe through a succession of rooms, to a kind of enclosed porch or pavilion, overlooking the terraced yard that stands high above OC. Below them spreads the whole lightshow, just sparking up to full power in the hazy dusk. A plain of light.

Hana notices the view and goes out on the terrace to have a look. Abe and Jim retire to the porch kitchen and work up a chili con queso dip in a big crockpot. Jim tells Abe about the things that impressed him during the trip to Europe, making each event into something profoundly significant, as he so often does with Abe. Abe responds with his sharp, interested questions, attentive to moods and significances himself. And then there is his sudden laugh, transforming something Jim has been solemn about to high comedy; supplying the wit but acting as if it were Jim’s. At times like this it’s hard to imagine Abe as the unresponsive and scornful friend that Jim often feels him to be; now Jim too is a “brother.” Is this a matter of mood, or is it just that whomever Abe fixes his full attention on becomes “brother” for that period of attention—which can be distracted, or missing from the start?

No way of knowing. Abe is the most inscrutable of Jim’s friends, that’s all there is to it. Visiting him up in this mansion Jim is reminded of Shelley’s visits to Byron. It’s gross flattery to compare himself to Shelley, he knows that, but there is something in the thought of the poor and idealistic poet visiting his rich, worldly, complex and powerful friend that reminds him of this feeling, up here on the very roof of OC.