ON THE WAY
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"Where you want me to drop you off?"
"My cousin's house."
"And where does your cousin live?"
"I'll show you, just head north. It's on the way."
Everywhere is on the way to somewhere else so I wasn't any more informed than before the question. I took consolation in the fact that as long as I continued to drive I was closing in on his destination and my return to solitude. His cell phone took up the conversation.
"Yeh?"
"How's Angela, is she alright? . . . Where is she? . . . How should I know, you're thousands of miles from me.
"OK, I'm listening.
"When did they grab him? . . . What did the attorney say? . . . You're going to have to go to one of those civil rights people. . . Look, you had to take up with him so don't be getting bitchy with me. I've got troubles of my own.
"Nevermind. Let me ask Santana and see what I can find out. Call me later if I don't call you. You tell Angela 'love from me'." He shrank down into the car seat, wiggled for placement, and closed his eyes.
I kept driving. So what was he going to do if I passed his stop? I'm not turning back I told myself. The eventuality never came up. Somewhere around Soledad he popped his head up like a landed bird taking bearings. "Not far now."