Seventy-two
thousand dollars? A lot more money than he'd ever had before. But the
moment that he accepted the amount, he realized that the money was his
only in the sense that he had control of it. He had it because his
father had saved it. How could he just spend it on himself? The money
wasn't his; it was theirs--his and his father's and probably his
father's parents as well. He replaced the envelope carefully in his
pocket. A door opened in his heart, and another door closed.
It would take time for these new feelings to sink in, but Oliver knew
that something had changed for good. He lingered over the espresso. An
awakened sense of time knocked in his ears and made the present moment
more intense. University students at a corner table might have been
figures on a screen or spread around a vase. It was _right now_,
Eugene, Oregon. He wanted to shout: "It will never be this way again.
We're here! We're alive!" He smiled as he imagined a full moon
appearing from behind a cloud. Francesca was standing on Crescent
Beach, looking up at the moon, her hands clasped behind her. Oliver
stood and bowed slightly to the waiter and to the room.
The next morning he called Porter and told him when he'd be back.
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