“Helpful. It’s called involvement. Never mind.” He got up and went into the kitchen and I heard him giving Batman his supper and talking to him in an endearing tone of voice.

Later we started talking again, and I ended up feeling better about things. I reminded myself that nothing at work was Aaron’s fault, he was on my side, and that he did want me to be happy, if I could just come around to thinking of myself as a happy person.

We decided that I should take another whack at college classes, either at Santa Rosa JC or College of Marin. I’d focus on business and computers this time, things that other people were always taking, practical, vocational classes that would keep my mom off my case. I’d be attempting to educate and better myself, and who could argue with that? I hoped there wouldn’t be as much reading involved. I thought I could tape lectures instead of taking notes. I’d learned a few things about getting by. Meanwhile, I could offer myself online for garden design and maintenance. Rick hadn’t exactly made us sign noncompete agreements.

I wondered if other people, people my age, were having as much trouble figuring out their next steps, their places in the world. The ones I’d gone to school with, the friends I still kept up with, seemed settled enough. Why couldn’t I just join the army or do telemarketing or hawk cell phone plans or have babies or any of the other things they did, and stop feeling like I was missing out on some important life I couldn’t even properly imagine?

Rick never called, which fit into the grand tradition of men never calling. I hustled up a few jobs to maintain some properties weekly, friends of my mom’s, mostly. Never let it be said she didn’t go all out for family. As expected, she got very excited and hopeful at the idea of me taking more college courses. Never mind that it was too late to sign up for summer session, and never mind that the world was full of underemployed college graduates. I was trying to the best of my limited abilities, and that was something to celebrate.

If it hadn’t been for the money worries, I might have enjoyed being my own not-very-successful boss. I still got up early and I still hustled to get the work done, and I had enough time, on hot afternoons, to swim at whatever pool was handy, most often one of the two College of Marin pools. I was thinking I’d try Marin this time around in my brilliant academic career, and I liked getting a feel for the place. Which was how, and where, I saw the poster about Viridian’s poetry reading.