“I’d say it beats hell out of those buggies at Walmart.”
“They make high-performance hand controls for these nowadays. Comes from racing paddle technology. It’s actually faster than using your feet.”
“Who knew?”
“Not the kid in the Mustang who wanted to drag race me on the way back from getting the groceries this afternoon. You should have seen the look on his face when I left him behind at the lights like he was standing still.”
“And what do the Tibetan monks say about your new ride?”
“They say that attachment to material objects causes us to remain wandering in samsara, bound to birth and rebirth. But that the color suits me.”
*
With Penny at the controls, the Boxster made it up the coast to Everett in considerably less than the thirty-four minutes that Google maps recommended budgeting for the trip. With the aid of her GPS, they were soon at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park, cruising the lanes that ran past the headstones. At last they spotted a mound of freshly dug earth. Verraday got out and checked the headstone, then nodded to Penny and waved her over.
“It’s him,” he called quietly.
Penny turned the car off then deftly pulled her wheelchair out from behind the seat and set it up beside her on the pavement. In one neat motion, she slid out of the driver’s seat of the Porsche and into the chair. Then she wheeled herself up to the grave beside Verraday.
For a long moment, neither one spoke. They just stared at the gravesite and tombstone. Then Penny broke the silence.
“David Robson, because of you I will never get to see my beautiful, sweet mother laugh ever again, or hold her close and tell her that I love her. I have not been able to do so for the last thirty years. Because of you, I will never get to see my parents’ golden anniversary. You took away my freedom and my childhood. You caused me to suffer terrible physical and emotional pain. You put me in this wheelchair. You wounded my father to his core. He was never the same after you took my mother’s life. And now you’ve taken your own life. You acknowledged none of the terrible things you’ve done. I want to forgive you. But I can’t. And you’ve done that to me too.”
She closed her eyes. The night was still, and in the darkness, Verraday could hear her breathing in the formalized way she’d learned through meditation: in through her nose to a count of five, holding it for a couple of seconds, then releasing it through her mouth to a count of five.
Verraday checked to make sure Penny’s eyes really were shut. Then he turned his back to her slightly and undid his fly. Penny’s eyes snapped open as she heard a tinkling sound on the freshly turned earth, like a sudden shower on a summer afternoon.
“Jamie, what are you doing?”
“Do you disapprove?” he asked.
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “Not if it helps give you closure.”
In another ten seconds, he was done. He zipped up his fly, then looked around at Penny.
“Okay, I’ve done what I’ve come here to do. We can leave.”
“Well, good for you. But I’m not done yet,” said Penny. “There’s one last thing on my agenda.”
Penny reached into her purse and took out a small, delicate vial with Japanese lettering on it. She began sprinkling the contents on Robson’s grave.
“What is that?”
“It’s a Japanese Kobyo vase. It’s said to hold the nectar of compassion for Kannon, the god of forgiveness.”
“Kannon? That’s an ironic name for a god of forgiveness. So what’s that liquid? Some kind of Buddhist holy water?”
“No,” replied Penny, sprinkling out the last of the liquid. “It’s urine. Mine. I told you I needed to use the bathroom before we came here.”
Verraday thought he’d heard wrong until Penny began to laugh. It was a laugh that built in momentum from somewhere deep inside her until her ribs shook.
Verraday began to laugh along with her now too, almost uncontrollably, a conspiratorial kind of laugh they hadn’t shared since they were children keeping a mischievous secret together. Their laughter echoed off the tombstones and through the graveyard, and it subsided only when they finally had to catch their breath. Even in the dim light, Verraday could see tears glistening on Penny’s face, running down toward her broad, toothy smile. He tasted a salty tear on his own lip and felt another one rolling down his cheek. He wiped it away, still laughing.
CHAPTER 21