Time and the Riddle: Thirty-One Zen Stories by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page B

just once in my life being able to take some friends for lunch to the Bistro and not thinking twice about the check—”
    â€œWhat is the Bistro?” the professor asked curiously.
    â€œYou ass!” Barbara exploded. “You fool!”
    â€œI’m terribly sorry.”
    â€œLike hell you are! You wouldn’t accept it—not even if Bob Maguire got down on his knees and pleaded.”
    The professor was thinking of how he could possibly move his cactus garden. Some of the plants were twenty years old. There was no way he could imagine transferring them to another area. And as if she were reading his mind, Barbara snapped at him, “It’s those damn ugly plants of yours, isn’t it!”
    He was trying to formulate some answer to this when suddenly Barbara burst into tears, leaped to her feet, and ran into the bedroom.
    The professor sat at the table for a few minutes, lost in thought. Then he poured a cup of coffee, took out the plastic envelope of pollen, shook it into the coffee, and stirred. He brought the coffee into the bedroom, where Barbara was sprawled on the bed.
    â€œBarbara,” he said gently.
    She didn’t move.
    â€œBarbara, please look at me. Please.”
    She sat up, presenting him with a tear-stained face, and the professor observed that she was a very handsome woman indeed, quite as attractive in her forty-ninth year as on the day he had married her. Even her frown of anger and disgust could not hide it.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked coldly.
    â€œI thought we might talk about this.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWell, it’s not open and shut, is it? I brought you a cup of coffee. Please drink it. You’ll feel better.”
    He touched her most tender spot. Coffee was an elixir to Barbara She reached for the coffee, tasted it and then drained the cup. She took a deep breath and then stared curiously at her husband.
    â€œOf course, you couldn’t move the cactus garden, could you,” she said finally.
    â€œI could move the smaller plants, certainly. That’s no great task.”
    â€œBut the big ones?”
    â€œThey’d have to stay.”
    â€œOh, no—no.”
    â€œIt’s no great loss.”
    â€œBut you love them. They mean so much to you.”
    â€œReally not,” the professor said. “Not at all. They’re there. I don’t own them. A plant is a living thing. It has a life and existence of its own.”
    â€œI never thought about it that way.”
    â€œWell, most people don’t. We’re so used to owning things.”
    â€œThen it’s not the cactus garden,” said Barbara.
    â€œI don’t think so. Look dear, why don’t we go outside and talk about this. It’s a fine evening.”
    He took her by the hand and led her out into the garden. The cat joined them. They sat down on the bench under an enormous hibiscus, and the cat leaped into Barbara’s lap and curled up there, purring with pleasure.
    â€œWhatever has gotten into this cat?” Barbara wondered.
    â€œHe seems very content.”
    â€œOh, I was so angry with you,” she said, stroking the cat. “Isn’t there something we could do to improve his coat—I mean vitamins or something—he really is a handsome cat.”
    â€œI’m sure. I’ll have to ask the vet.”
    â€œI don’t know why I was so angry.”
    â€œYou had reason enough.”
    â€œI can’t think of any reason. Thirty thousand dollars is a lot of money. We could do things for the kids.”
    â€œThe kids are very independent.”
    â€œThey are. Do you know, I think they resent gifts.”
    â€œThat’s understandable,” the professor agreed.
    â€œIt’s nice to think about living in Westwood, but I do love this old house. And our friends are here.”
    â€œI could commute. It’s not a long drive on the freeway.”
    â€œYou’d hate