A. Homes - This Book Will Save Your Life

He dials Ben. "I dreamed I fell into a black hole," he blurts. "I was about to be ripped in half when I woke up. I slept all day. That's so strange. I lay down yesterday afternoon and just woke up. We're having a storm, that's what woke me — the lightning."

"Dad?"

"What's the weather like there?" Richard asks, recovering himself.

"Fine, perfectly fine, I guess. It's still pretty early."

"Good. Things here are a little up in the air. I got hit by a car last night as I was coming out of a bookstore. I went in looking for something to read, something that would inspire me, and when I came out this woman ran me down."

"Are you in the hospital again?"

"No, I'm home. I iced it, and then, this morning, there was a horse in a hole right outside my house. So I went up the street to Tad Ford's house and knocked on his door, and he came out, got in his helicopter, and plucked the horse right out of the hole. I'm not telling it exactly right, but that's basically the order of events."

"This is all what you dreamed?"

"No, I dreamed I was falling into a hole; the rest happened. It's been strange. When did I talk to you — yesterday morning?"

"Yeah, you'd been in the emergency room for some kind of chest pain. Is it gone now?"

"I can't tell. Is it really four in the morning?"

"Well, it's seven here."

"Look, Ben, I guess the reason I'm calling is because I don't want things to be bad between us, I never wanted that. A person never knows how much time they've got. I know it sounds corny. You have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Is it cancer?"

"It's the future, Ben. I want the future to be different."

"Is it, like, an emergency? Can I think about it?"

He wants to say yes, yes, it is an emergency, but he doesn't. He says, "Yes, think about it." And then there is silence. They need a change of subject. "Your mother mentioned that you're taking a trip this summer."

"We were supposed to leave yesterday, but Barth's train broke down, so he got here late."

"Wow, so you're all set, you know where you're going?" He's overwhelmed with the idea that Ben would be coming to L.A. without telling him, that Ben has a whole life that doesn't include him, doesn't need his consent, approval, or even knowledge. "Are you coming straight out, or stopping along the way, taking scenic detours?"

"I don't know if there's a specific plan. It was Barth's idea, he calls it a document for the future. I'm riding shotgun as cameraman. He wanted to make a movie so that one day he can show his kids an old-fashioned cross-country expedition. We're doing it as a kind of covered-wagon thing."

"A Volvo is hardly a covered wagon."

"We debated hiring a Central Park carriage horse, but we thought it would be bad for the horse."

"Will you be staying with friends along the way?"

"I'm seventeen, I don't have 'friends along the way' We're going to Cleveland, because that's where Barth's aunt lives. She's expecting us."

"Well, you know, when you get out here, you've got a place."

"Yeah, I know, I just, well, Barth and I haven't really talked about that."

A document for the future. When Richard was growing up, he wasn't sure there would be a future — the air-raid siren would go off, they'd duck under their desks and frantically pray, even the atheists, especially the atheists. A document for the future — it sounds so healthy, normal, youthful, filled with aunts and uncles and hope.

"And sometimes we'll sleep in the car — that's the part I'm looking forward to. Under the stars, or under the moon roof, looking up at the sky. My only fear is bears. I heard that there are these really aggressive national-park bears that have no compunction about coming right up to people and stealing from them."

"Compunction" — the kid even has a vocabulary.

"Be careful: parking in remote places is how you get kidnapped. Park in big parking lots where you can see lights."

"The car has an alarm; if you touch the outside, the horn beeps, the lights flash, and it says in a really loud voice: 'Burglar, burglar, step away from the car.' "

"Park someplace where someone will hear the car saying 'Burglar.' And if you're carrying something illegal, like drugs, keep them in the trunk. That's the most difficult place for them to search. It's considered private space — they'd need a warrant. Whenever you're carrying something that you don't want anyone to know about, put it in the trunk."

"It's a station wagon — there is no trunk."

"OK, then, put it in the wheel well, under the back part." He's trying to be helpful, to a make a connection.

"What makes you think I'm traveling with drugs?"

"I'm not saying you are, I'm just telling you what I learned — it was on the Today show."

"Weird information I'm not sure I needed to hear." There is a pause. "Do prescription drugs count?"

"I don't think so. Is anyone else you know doing something like this?"

"A few people are going on European exchange programs; I did that last year. I lived with a veterinarian's family just outside Paris."

"Did I know?" There's a pause, a beat. "When you get out here, I'm hoping you'll stay with me."

Ben says nothing.

"Is Barth there now?"

"Yes."

"Is he listening to this conversation?"

"I'm not sure he's listening, but he's sitting here."

"And what are you planning to do when you get here?"

"Work for The Agency."

"What agency?"

"The Agency, that's what it's called, it's a talent group."

"What do they do, manage animal acts?" He can't believe he said that — he sounds just like his own father. "Sorry. I'm sorry I said that. That's great. The Agency sounds great."

"Whatever."

Again there is silence. He goes to the window and sees the yellow lights of the government man's car. "I'm here, Ben. I'm waiting. Call me if you need anything."

THE NIGHT MAN is outside. He's wearing a yellow slicker with white reflective tape in strips, like stripes, across his back. The yellow lights are flashing. "I saw the rescue on television, but I wanted to take a look for myself. I wasn't going to bother you.

"I was up."

"The rain's not helping. If it keeps up, she's going to go."

"Where?"

"Down."

Down and down, like in his dream. "Anyone ever fallen to the center of the earth?"

"Not on my watch. I saw the actor with the helicopter. Where do you know him from?"

"Lives up the street. Want a cup of coffee?"

"I'm on duty."

"You can stand by the window and keep an eye out."

He leaves the engine running. As soon as they're in the house, Richard regrets having invited him in. The guy is dripping, tracking his muddy footprints across the floor, and he can't bring himself to tell the guy to take his boots off.

"Vegan brownie? Donut?" He opens the fridge to see what else there is, and his dinner stares back at him. He'd forgotten about dinner.

"Donut would be great."

Richard looks around. "I'm trying to think — where are the parts for the coffeemaker? I'm not usually the one who…"

"Tea is good enough; in fact, I like it better."

Richard makes tea.

"What are you doing up? You don't seem like a night rider."

"I was on the phone with my son; he lives in New York." It's probably the first time he's ever said that.

"So how'd that happen, with the movie star? He just did it — no agent, lawyer, or business manager stopped him? They don't like those people to work for free."

"I don't think he thought it was work."

"I'm an actor, an actor/writer. Bet you didn't know that; I came out here to become a star, and look at me."

Richard doesn't say anything.

"Grew up in Minnesota, had a big rock collection as a kid — one of those rock-tumbling machines. I knew my stones — that's how I got into geology-related work — but I came out here to be in the movies."