That was the end of my earthly conversation with the Skipper. I let it go. There were too many whispers in it for me that I did not want to hear at that moment and I told myself if I asked any questions then I would only hear the sad story of his losses and pains, which, while they are often the cause of learning, do not normally do anything to elucidate that learning for others. We are all of us very self-centered, all inclined to dote on our own suffering in the company of too much drink. I ate my cheese steak, which wasn't that good, and walked back up the hill with that food and the four beers in me. My head felt light in the rain, which I no longer minded, and I quickened my step to the motel. 

The next morning I got on the bike and rode to Eugene to wait for the moving truck that was going to bring all of my sister's things from the east coast to the west. She was starting over again. My story with Kate did not exactly end during that phone conversation in Lincoln City. We continued to speak on the phone during the weeks when I occupied my sister's newly bought bungalow, waiting for the truck to come with something for me to sit or lie down on. I actually ended up borrowing kitchenware, a camp chair, and some sheets from the neighbors there on Madison St.