"He didn't!" Willow clapped her hand over her mouth.
Patrick looked at her. "You think I'm a moron." She took her hand away. "I am. But I'm a persistent moron." He took a swallow of beer. "True," he said. "I know about true. In science, what is true can be verified. What is true, is true for everybody. But Hendrik's true is only true for Hendrik."
"Especially true for Hendrik," Willow said.
"So, it's a different kind of true," Patrick finished.
"Different from science," Willow said, "but useful."
"Useful . . . " Patrick thought.
"Like Beethoven or Dylan true," she said.
Patrick watched people on the sidewalk. "There's more," he said, after a moment. "There's more about this art and science stuff. I don't understand it, yet. What's the matter?" he asked for the second time. Willow was wiping tears from her cheeks.
"It's not your fault," she said. She stood suddenly. "I'm going now." She pedaled away with her book in the basket. What did I say? he wondered. He went inside scratching his head. Sue and Jim were at the bar. He thought about his usual dinner of rice and vegetables. To hell with it. Deanie's, he said to himself and went back outside. Willow was gone.
He walked past the News Shop and Ann's Deli and turned down the hill to Deanie's for a celebratory steak, still wondering what had upset Willow. The dining room was comfortably filled, cheerful without being noisy. A bar stretched the length of one end of the room. Sam was there by himself and said hello. Patrick excused himself as soon as he could and sat at a small table on the other side of the room. Sam was always mouthing off about the government and asking everyone where he could score some grass. He was nervous in a way that put Patrick off. Patrick didn't want to hassle with anyone who worked for Parker, so he kept his mouth shut and avoided him. "Meat," he said to Sam. "I've got this craving for meat. Got to have it!"