"Scary place," he said.
"You not scared there, you an idiot," his father said.
"Shit," Oliver said.
"What's the matter?"
"I just realized that we've got to go back the same way."
"How is your mother?"
"She's fine. She gave me your name--Oliver Muni Prescott."
"Ah," Muni said. "I am glad she is well. She was a beautiful woman.
Smart, too. Didn't stick around to marry me."
"She married Owl Prescott, an English professor. They had a girl,
Amanda. Owl died. Then she married a guy named Paul Peroni from New
Haven, a good guy, a marble worker." Oliver paused. "Ken told me that
you live in Japan."
"Near Kamakura. We have a son and a daughter, grown up, not quite your
age. You are--35."
"Yes," Oliver said.
"You married?"
"I was. For four years."
"You have children?"
"No."
"Mmmm . . ."
"Large waves come without warning," Oliver said, looking out at the
gray ocean.
"Beautiful here," his father said. Oliver nodded. For the first time, a
suggestion of a smile crossed his father's face as he waved at the wild
shore guarded by The Devil's Churn. "Most don't get this far. What kind
of work you do?"
"I program computers.
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