Lourens Blok - Random Walk: A Novel for a New Age

This book is about a walk, and it seems appropriate to acknowledge a debt of gratitude to some of the people who have provided valuable assistance along the way. I owe much to Thomas Mullane, Marilyn White, and Martin OFarrell, three among many who taught me to follow the path a step at a time; to Sondra Ray, Fredric Lehrman, Leonard Orr, and Bob and Mallie Mandel, indispensable teachers; to Peter Russell, for The Global Brain, and Raphael, for The Starseed Transmissions; to Durchback Akuete, for his gift of spiritual empowerment; to Lloyd Youngblood and Danny Slomoff, for their example as powerful healers; to Mary Elizabeth Weber and Joan Pancoe, for timely guidance and channeled wisdom; and to Babaji.

I am grateful, too, to William Smart and everyone at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, where the actual writing of this book took place.

Finally, I owe more than I can ever say to my most wonderful wife Lynne, to whom Random Walk is dedicated. It could never have come into being but for her incomparable generosity of spirit and her selfless unconditional love.

He was heating water for a second cup of coffee when the phone rang. He crossed the room, answered it.

Guthrie, its Kit. I didnt wake you?

No, the sun beat you to it.

Are you sure? Your voice

Youre my first caller. It hasnt been used. He coughed, cleared his throat. There, he said. That better?

I wasnt criticizing, I just Her voice trailed off. He waited. Guthrie? Im not interrupting anything?

No, he said. You didnt wake me and youre not interrupting anything. Hold on, will you? The kettle was whistling. He measured coffee into the filter, poured water through the grounds, carried the cup back with him and lit a cigarette. Through smoke he said, Making coffee. Now youre not interrupting anything. Whats up?

You got anything on this afternoon?

Not really.

Because I was thinking maybe youd drive me up to Eugene.

Sure, I could do that. I guess the carll make it.

Whats the matter with your car?

Nothing in particular. I just

Because we can take my car.

We can?

Jesus, she said, I dont care whose car we take, we can fucking rent a car if you want.

Kit? Whats the matter?

Oh, shit, she said. He waited, drew on his cigarette, took a tentative sip of his coffee. Brilliant invention, the coffee filter. You could make one cup of coffee at a time, and it was as easy as instant and better than what came out of a drip pot or a percolator. And, when you werent making coffee, a very tiny person could use the filter to catch very tiny butterflies.

She said, I dont need a ride, I need company. Ive got an appointment at two oclock.

What for?

An abortion.

Oh.

So I sort of thought

You want to figure an hour and a half to drive there, he said, plus traffic and time to park.

Its a clinic, she said. They have parking.

So lets say Ill pick you up about noon. Its ten-thirty now. That give you enough time?

Or Ill pick you up, she said.

No, Ill drive, he said. Twelve oclock, okay?

She was waiting in front of her apartment building. He watched as she strode to the car, a slender dark-haired woman in Frye boots and straight-leg jeans and an Oregon State sweatshirt. It doesnt show yet, she said. Its only nine or ten weeks, for Christs sake.

Huh?

You were staring.

Not at your stomach. At your tits.

Hah.

At your sweatshirt, actually. You didnt go to State.

No, of course not. But I figured since Im getting the abortion in Eugene, let the people there feel morally superior to a Statie. If I was getting the abortion in Corvallis Id wear a U of O shirt.

I see.

If I had a Reed shirt Id wear that. Everybody likes to feel morally superior to the Greedy Reedies.

He lit a cigarette. She rolled down her window and said, Actually, its Marvins shirt.

That asshole.

Funny, he always speaks well of you.

Ill bet he does. Is it

His kid? Jesus, no. I havent even seen him in six months. Is he even in town? I think I heard he went back to Berkeley.

Im not the person to ask.

Well, neither am I. She fell silent. They were on the Interstate, heading north toward Eugene, when she said, The thing is, I dont know whose it is.

Youre not talking about the sweatshirt.

The kid. Theres three people who might be up for Father of the Year honors. The funny thing is Ive been a very proper lady lately.

I cant remember the last time you came by Paddy Macs.

No, Ive been staying out of the bars. And Im all alone when I lower my lamp. I havent been seeing anybody since Marvin the Asshole, and we broke up in the fall, and its June already. Todays what, the second?

I guess.

I dont know how you thought he could have been the father.

Well, people have been known to get back together for a quickie even after theyve broken up.

Yeah, she said, and her face softened into a smile. Yeah, we did that, didnt we?

Once or twice.

Want to pull over at the next rest area? Nothing safer than a pregnant lady. Thats a joke, incidentally.

I sort of thought it might be.

Because I feel about as sexy as a burn victim.

Thats a pretty image.

Yeah, I thought youd like it.

They fell silent. Traffic was light and he kept the speed just over sixty miles an hour. The car, a Buick Century, had been originally equipped with a cruise-control device, but it had been broken when he bought it and he had never bothered to get it fixed. The car had been four years old when he got it and that had been four years ago; when the new models came out in the fall, the Buick would be nine years old. It looked its age, too. Cars rusted quickly in western Oregon, and the Buick, never garaged and rarely washed, was going fast. It ran reasonably well, always started and never stalled out, but there were noises under the hood that might well be cause for anxiety if you knew what you were listening to.

Around Exit 154 she said, I have to tell you, Guthrie. I hate this.

You want me to turn the car around?

No, of course not.

Because you dont have to go through with it.

Yes I do. If I broke the appointment today Id make another one tomorrow. Im not gonna have the kid.

Well, thats up to you.

She nodded. Its not as though Ive never done this before.

Oh?

Once at college. Once about what, five years ago? Something like that.

Not when you and I

No, earlier. Months earlier, maybe a year earlier. I wouldnt have aborted a child of yours without telling you.

Jesus.

What?

I wonder if anybody ever did.

Did what? Abort a kid of yours? Didnt it ever happen that you know of?

He shook his head.

You mean this is your first time? She laid a hand on his. Dont worry, she said. Ill be gentle.

Funny.

The irrepressible Kit Winston, cracking jokes even as she goes under the knife. Or under the vacuum cleaner, as the case may be. You could have fathered a child that somebody aborted. I mean, sleeping around, one-nighters. Look at me, there were three guys I slept with during the period of a couple weeks when it must have happened. And theyll never know. What could I tell them? I just had an abortion and youve got one shot in three of being the father? So if you slept with somebody who slept with other people too

I get the picture.

Or if she had the baby, as far as that goes. There could be all these little Guthrie Wagners scattered around, and they wouldnt know it and neither would you.

Hey, cut it out, huh?

Im sorry. Did I touch a nerve?

Ill be gentle, he said. Some gentle.