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Show -63 get past the smell, haw, haw, haw!" Clem was not much more than a baboon with a birth certificate, but there was a lesson there-I heard it plainly. In the end I was fired from my loading dock job because, daydreaming again, I rolled a handcart full of fragile dryers off the end of the dock. That night also finished my search for Jenny, though the thought of her has stayed with me, and now and then, irresponsibly, I catch myself wondering what could have happened, how it might all have turned out another way. It's my fault that I've never quite grown up, of course, just as it was my father's choice to lead a consistently unhappy life. I woke up when bright sun shot past the curtains; familiar voices floated up from the garden. The last thing I remembered was lying next to Morgan asking myself why I had chosen for my own the part of a man-child, or child-man; soft darkness had filled my head before I found an answer. I reached for Morgan; her side of the bed was empty but I didn't need her this morning-I knew just where I was. I pushed the curtains aside and leaned on the sill; Morgan was walking in the garden, arm in arm with Jacob. It was a pretty Oregon morning, fresh, clean and sweet-smelling. The new leaves in my father's garden were so green that they were still amost white; the peas were stretching up to catch hold of the strings Adam had put up for them; radishes had barely begun to turn red at |