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his silly ponytail flapping in the wind. She couldn’t be right. I was not , subconsciously, trying to replace the brother I’d adored and lost. So, how was Guthrie different? “Well, when you explained something to Mike, it was like he was the one person who truly understood, and cared. He was endlessly patient—”
    “Are you kidding? Mike, the kid who couldn’t wait to be older? He begged Mom to get him into first grade early. He wrote up a new ‘birth certificate’ in crayon with a fake date.”
    “He did start early, though, didn’t he?”
    “Hardly because of that! Dad had done a favor for the priest and . . .” She shrugged. “Bad idea because now all his friends were a year ahead, so he really wanted to be older. When driver’s license time came he just about drove Dad crazy—surely he knew someone, there had to be some way, some angle—But, it’s Guthrie I’m asking about. So, what’s the scoop?”
    “Similar, yeah, but he’s not Mike. He’s all stuntman, a guy’s guy. Everybody likes him because he’s so into the gags and he’ll take any chance this side of death. I mean sensible chances.”
    She shook her head. “Why? I’ve asked you before, repeatedly, and you’ve never given me a good answer. So this guy, what is it about looking into the void as a career choice that attracts him?”
    “He’s shifting left. Can you—”
    “He’ll be sorry. Trust me.”
    I didn’t. If only I’d insisted on driving, burned hands be damned. I eyed his back, as if my gaze were some kind of virtual leash. “I can’t say for Guthrie, but for me it’s the next best thing to meditation.”
    “Pretend-meditation?”
    I shrugged. “In zazen the idea is to be aware of everything without judging. Just noticing, not being the center of the noticing, you know?”

    “Hmm.”
    “It’s really hard. You’re aware, then you’re aware you’re aware, then you’re thinking about that, and soon you’re thinking about dinner and sex.”
    “In that order?”
    “But when you’re doing a balance gag forty feet about the street, it’s easy. No wandering mind; you’re focused, totally at one with everything you’re doing but also with everything that plays into it. You’re not thinking about the wind; the wind is part of the whole gestalt of the gag, and so are you. When you get to the other side, you’re high.”
    “I felt like that when I did the surgery rotation.”
    “Right. It’s not meditation, but it’s, well, clear.”
    “Damn!”
    A car shot across our lane to the left-hand exit. Brakes screeched. Traffic stopped in all lanes but Guthrie’s. The black convertible sailed right on.
    “Catch him!”
    “How? Fly?”
    If only I were driving! “Cut left. Go!”
    She rumbled left. Brakes squealed. A horn blew long and loud. But we were moving and Guthrie was still in sight.
    “Good work, Gracie!”
    She grinned. “He’s heading for the Marina. He’ll be in city streets. We’ll get him there.” She was leaning forward, looking lane to lane, checking the rearview.
    As soon as we crested the hill, I saw the fog blowing thick from the Golden Gate. “Keep close. Don’t lose him!”
    “Not to worry.”

    Was Guthrie like Mike? The very thought made me squeamish, but I forced myself to deal with it. “Okay, here’s the thing. When Guthrie turns up, he’s totally focused on happy-to-see you, I mean me. But then we have the kind of weekend you don’t want to consider in light of your brother. When we’re talking, it’s about the business, about gags he did, gags we could make better. Really focused. Hey, he’s going to cut left.”
    “Where’s he going at this hour? The Golden Gate?”
    “Or the Palace of Fine Arts?”
    “I’ve just about burned out my engine chasing him over the bridge and across town so he can feed the swans?”
    There were only two cars between us now as we headed into the area of narrow streets and few outlets. The Palace of Fine Arts would be a good