“Yeah, there’s that. Why date an astronaut when she can have me?”

When Travis and the girls came out of the kitchen there was even more startling evidence of the transformation in Travis. They were carrying bowls of sliced and peeled fresh fruit, yogurt, raw veggies and dip (crudites, Kelly called it), and a plate of assorted cheese slices and chunks. Alicia was carrying a battalion-sized blender.

We all sat around the table and dug into lunch, Travis looking a little desperate, I thought. We watched as Alicia began dumping things into the blender, including a raw egg, shell and all, bananas and chunks of other fruit, veggies… but I find it hard to go on. We all started laughing with every new ingredient, and Alicia did, too.

“So this is part of the recovery process?” Travis asked. “Eating rabbit food?”

“Rabbits don’t eat cheese.”

“Mouse food, then. Is this the thirteenth step?”

“Did you read the booklet I gave you?”

“Yeah. I figure seven steps out of twelve ain’t too bad.”

“You’ve done seven of them?” Kelly asked. “That sounds pretty good to me.”

“He means he’s willing to try seven of them,” Alicia said. “Right, Travis?”

“And I’m sort of dubious about step five. Maybe I should only tackle six and a half steps. It’s still a majority.”

[73] “What’s step five?” I asked.

“ ‘I admit to God, to myself and to another human being…’ ” Alicia, Kelly, and Travis broke up as they realized all three were chanting in unison. Travis finished it:

“ ‘… the exact nature of my wrongs.’ ”

“That’s very good, Travis,” Alicia said. “Did you memorize them all?”

“I’ve got a good memory.”

“Well, you’re not the first one to stumble over the God business. Like I told you, just do the ones you can, for a start. That, and concentrate on taking your life one day at a time. Did you go to a meeting?”

“Part of one,” Travis confessed. “I didn’t speak. Except the part about ‘Hi, my name is Travis.’ ”

The four of us shouted, “Hello, Travis!” It startled him, and for a moment I thought we’d done the wrong thing. Then he laughed, and really seemed to mean it. For the first time I began to get some idea of how lonely these years of being a drunken failure had been for him.

So Alicia proposed a toast: “To our health!” and we all drank or sipped from the tumblers of glop she had poured us. Travis chugalugged his, then fell off his chair and rolled around for a while clutching his stomach, moaning theatrically.

While most eyes were on Travis I used the opportunity to ditch the rest of my drink in a sickly looking potted palm under the kitchen window.

AFTER LUNCH DAK and I got out our computers and Travis took us through three more lessons. He gave us assignments that would probably keep us busy the rest of the afternoon. Then he and Kelly and Alicia went off down the newly trimmed path to the lake, fishing equipment in hand. They seemed to take an evil delight in looking back at us chained to the laptops until they were out of sight.

Ten minutes later we heard the deep roar of a big outboard. I gritted my teeth and kept my eyes on the screen. Soon the sound faded away.

“I never liked fishing much, myself,” Dak muttered.

“What, when we can be out here improving our minds? Hell, no. [74] Big waste of time. Probably nothing out there but some big ol’ bass, anyway.”

“What you wanna bet all they get is a bad sunburn?”

“I hear you, Dak, I hear you.”

“Maybe some catfish.”

“Ugliest fish in the world, catfish.”

We finally got settled in. We kept at it for two hours without a sign of Kelly and Alicia. I called for a break and Dak wasn’t opposed.

“Let’s go down to the dock,” he suggested.

“You crazy? That’s just what they want us to do. I wanted to talk to that guy, Travis’s cousin, what was…?”

“Jubal. Short for Jubilation. Gotta love the name.”

About halfway to the barn Dak caught my arm, and he looked like he was having second thoughts.

“What’s up?” I asked him. We continued walking, but at a slower pace.

“Jubal’s odd, Manny.”

“I heard that. What, is he dangerous?”

“Oh, hell no. He just takes some getting used to. He’s got some kind of brain damage but he won’t go to a doctor to get it checked out. He’s scared of doctors. He’s scared of a lot of stuff, including meeting new people.”

“Is this a bad idea? We could wait till Travis gets back.”

“Nah, I think we’ll be all right. Just don’t get insulted if he walks off in the middle of a conversation, Jubal is socially challenged.”

We came to the door and there was a piece of cardboard stuck on it with strapping tape. Somebody had written on it with a grease pencil in block letters:

IS NO DORBEL amp; DO NOT KNOKC

IF LOKED DONT DISTRUB

IF UNLOKED YOUR WELCOM COM IN!

“Dyslexia,” I guessed.

“He ain’t illiterate, he just can’t spell worth a damn.” He tried the [75] door handle, found it was not “loked.” He gestured for me to go ahead, and pulled the door wide open. A full-grown bull alligator reared up and lunged at us, roaring like a grizzly bear.

“Very funny,” I said. Dak was leaning against the doorjamb, in the middle of one of those soundless fits of laughter that can make it hard to get your breath. I glanced inside and saw Jubal himself just beyond the alligator. He was smiling broadly.

“Scared you a little, though, didn’t it?” Dak wanted to know.

“A little. Till I saw the eyeball hanging by a wire.”

“I t’ought I fix dat, me,” Jubal said, and bent over his mechanical pet, stuffing the stray eyeball back in its socket. He was dressed like he was the first time I saw him, in khaki shorts, very loud aloha shirt, and flip-flops. A pudgy teddy-bear of a man, with his wild white beard and hairy arms and legs.

“Jubal, this is Manny, my best friend,” Dak said.

“Meet him already,” Jubal said, and turned and waddled off. Dak looked at me and shrugged. We decided to follow him.

Jubal’s barn was full of dinosaurs. Most of them were torn into a lot of pieces with wires and tubes sticking out and metal bones and hydraulic muscles exposed.

“This is where old animatronics go to die,” Dak explained. “When an attraction at some of the theme parks stops being popular, Travis and Jubal go buy it, cheap.”

We moved out of the dino graveyard and in among a bunch of what looked like mad scientist equipment. There were things that made yellow and purple sparks, and racks of tubes and glassware with colored fluids moving through.

“Looks like Doctor Frankenstein’s been here, right?” Dak said. “This is more props and stuff. They bought it off some of the movie studios. Like this Jacob’s ladder, and this Tesla coil. And this Van de Graaf generator. Supposed to make your hair stand on end from static electricity.” He put his hand on a brushed aluminum globe on the end of an aluminum pole. Nothing happened. “Well, it does for you white folks, anyway. Us AAs, our hair too kinky.” He pointed at me and as his finger got close a spark jumped-and so did I.

[76] “Hey, Jube,” he called out, “how about we turn off some of the special effects? We can hardly hear each other talk in here.”

In a moment all the sparking, spitting, popping, and hissing props got quiet. I followed Dak to the only open area we’d seen so far. Standing in the middle of it was Jubal, hands in his pants pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking pleased with himself.

“Manny, how you like dis crazy place, you?”

“It’s fantastic, Jubal.”

“Every boy’s dream clubhouse,” Dak agreed, and Jubal roared with laughter, reminding me again of Santa Claus.

“Jus’ junk, mostly,” Jubal said. “Mos’ dis stuff jus’ git t’rowed away.”