I had finally done something that made me feel good about myself. Now I was going to go back to school, but this time to try and understand how reading-allergic brains like mine worked. And then I wanted to find kids like me and read poems to them so that they wouldn’t miss out on poetry, so they wouldn’t feel so bad or shamed or left out. Or maybe play them music or take them to art museums. Whatever it took to make them feel good about themselves.

I stood with Aaron in my mom’s driveway, saying good-bye to her and Oscar. I was leaving my truck with my mom. She was going to teach Oscar how to drive. It was early and the sky was still gray, and my mom was still in her robe. Oscar had a thermos of his special espresso for us. Batman kept looking through the rear window, waiting for us to get back in the car.

My mom was giving me another five pounds of advice for the road. “Did you make a copy of your passport? Keep it in a different place. Is your phone going to work up there? I don’t think you need voltage converters, or do you?”

“No, Mom. Pith helmets, mosquito netting, but no voltage converters.”

“Watch your smart mouth at the border crossing. Those people have no sense of humor.”

“Mom, we need to get going.”

“Aaron, honey, good luck with the new job. I know you’ll shine.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Aaron said, a good sport as always.

My mom hugged me, then she hugged Aaron. Aaron and Oscar shook hands. Oscar tried to give me a kiss on the cheek, but I dodged him. Once we were in the car, I put the window down to wave. I heard my mom yell that I should call her. Oscar cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered after us: “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments!”

We reached the end of the street and headed for the freeway. We exhaled and smiled at each other. Finally underway, and on our own. “What was he saying?” Aaron asked. “About marriage, what?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just Oscar, and he’s just happy.”

The body is a house. Who lives within?

Acknowledgments

My thanks, as always, to the wise and indefatigable Henry Dunow. My gratitude to Arielle Datz for assistance above and beyond the ordinary. Thanks to Kathy Pories for her enthusiasm and guidance. To Chris Stamey for his careful reading of the manuscript, and to everyone at Algonquin, who bring experience and skill to the production of quality books.