The Lesson Read Free

left over for groceries. I try to take as many meals as possible at work. Big Bick’s allows waitresses one free meal per shift. I take advantage of it as often as I can.”
    “If the Navy fed us like this there’d be mutiny. What do you do on days you don’t work?”
    “I manage.”
    “Do your parents help you?”
    “They would if I’d ask, but I don’t ask.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s a long story,” she said. To keep it a short one, she turned back to the stove, and just in time to avoid a gooey mess in the sink, snatched an egg as it rolled down the ancient metal drain board. “Why don’t you sit down while I finish? I’ll just be a minute. You can sit there if you like,” she said, deftly steering him to the vinyl chair with the least amount of duct tape.
    While they ate they talked. She was surprised to learn how much they had in common. He had graduated from Del Mar High School in San Jose two years before she had graduated from Buchser High in Santa Clara. Their schools were barely six miles apart.
    “So what’s a Del Mar Don?” Gina said, referring to his alma mater’s mascot.
    “Oh, I dunno. The Spanish Don mystique, I suppose, rooted in California history. Back in the late 1950s having your school associated with a Spanish count must have made reading, writing, and arithmetic seem cosmopolitan. Though personally, I find it difficult to emulate anyone who runs around in a canary yellow vest with a doofus black hat tied under his chin. It’s weird what educators think will motivate young people. My parents always used bribes. And what about the Bruin? What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Buchser Bruins. Bears.” Gina, feeling a little more relaxed now, pounded on her chest like a gorilla. “You’re supposed to think big, hairy, tough guys. Must be a sports thing.” She felt silly pounding on her chest, but there was no one around, so it didn’t matter. She took a bite of egg. She had scrambled them perfectly, well blended, not tough or laced with brown. If all she had to serve a guest was scrambled egg, at least it was good scrambled egg. “I hear there’s a high school down South somewhere that has a horned toad for a mascot. What do you think that inspires?”
    Kevin cupped his chin in exaggerated concentration, leaned in toward her flirtatiously and batted his eyes, camel-like. “Another horned toad.”
    Gina pushed her tongue against her lower teeth to keep from laughing. He was ridiculous, but she wouldn’t be baited. Why bother? This was the first and last evening they’d ever spend together. The simplest way out was to change the subject. “Tell me about growing up in San Jose,” she said.
    "Well, when I was little my family and I lived in the Quito District."
    Gina knew that area. It was just minutes down Lawrence Expressway from her family home near Homestead Road and Pomeroy Avenue, so as children they had practically been neighbors.
    In the next few minutes while they finished their eggs he told her his life story. He had an older brother who had fought in Viet Nam and a younger sister who was married and lived in San Francisco. Gina was the second of four girls, so they were both second-borns. His older brother and her older sister shared a birthday. His parents had divorced when he was about ten. Both their fathers had fought in World War II; her father had also fought in the Korean War. Their fathers were the same ages, so were their mothers. His father owned a one-man pest control business, his mother was a nurse. Her father delivered mail, her mother was a secretary. Kevin had joined the Navy right after high school and had two years left on his enlistment. He was currently serving aboard the USS Flint, an ammunitions ship, though he had once served on the USS Shasta and had sailed to the Philippines, Taiwan, and Japan. Gina also learned that Kevin, like her, loved to read. But what interested her most of all is that he wanted to join the FBI.
    “Why become an