"Well . . ." He didn't know
what to say. His father's eyes were sparkling.
"Maybe you come see us in Kamakura. I will be back there in one month."
Oliver nodded in the Japanese way. His father bowed and walked back to
his car. Oliver watched. He waved as his father drove toward the road.
His father waved back. Oliver thought he saw a smile, and then his
father was gone.
He was getting wet, he realized. He stopped in Florence for a cup of
coffee. There was no sign of his father. He drove back to Eugene and
took a long hot shower. The envelope lay unopened on top of the table
by the TV.
Oliver took a nap and went out for dinner. He sipped Glenlivet, a bit
disappointed--he had learned so little about his father. Also, he was
depressed because the meeting was over; he had accomplished what he set
out to do, and now what? His father was controlled, impressive. Oliver
felt good about that. If he hadn't found out many details about his
father, he had learned something about himself. There was a sternness
in his father--an inner honor--that Oliver recognized immediately. Same
as me, he thought. His father helped put a face on it, made it more
accessible and more acceptable.
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