Stalking Vol 2 The Bridge of Reason HTML version

Chapter 13
At our regular Saturday morning class, K ha-lib told us that Bonnie’s relative had "returned
home," but heirs were contesting their percentage splits, and lawyers were fighting it out.
Nevertheless, the legacy would come our way; the many points of change that turn a probability
into inevitability were at a momentum- zenith."
"What points of change?" Josh asked.
"The disposition of the estate has stipulations regarding the amount of each disbursement,
depending upon the willingness of its recipients to meet certain conditions. Not all of their
responses are known to us."
Kha-lib then continued his lesson about how we could most effectively use the money,
because it was seen that at least one beneficiary would not meet a condition of the Will. As a
result, there would be an additional hundred thousand dollars in our legacy, which should arrive
two Saturday’s hence, in the morning, by messenger.
This ended our session.
Bonnie had a private reading booked, followed by a dinner with Josh, so I went home. I took
Sunday off to watch the five football games I could switch between from morning until night: I
loved living in the Pacific Time Zone.
Meeting at the corner of Pendrell and Denman on Monday morning, Bonnie said nothing
beyond "Hello," as we crossed the street and turned right on Morton to enter an area of gardens
and statues that were a prelude to Stanley Park. After a short while, we crossed Beach Avenue to
sit on a bench facing Spanish Bank Beach, across the English Bay anchorage. West Vancouver
was ninety degrees to our right. North Vancouver was behind us.
As the silence stretched, I commented on the general beauty of the area, to which Bonnie
gestured over her shoulder, to the north-west, and asked me what it communicated. Not knowing
what "it" was, I assumed she was asking me to speak generally about Stanley Park, so I said
something inane about it representing the diverse nature of nature.
"What did you just communicate to me?" she said.
Prudently arriving at the honest answer quickly, I said, "That I don’t have a clue what you're
asking me."
"Why didn’t you say that instead of trying to B.S. me?"
"I thought I’d give it a shot, like a good apprentice."
"You’ve learned to deceive under the banner of acceptable social practices so well that it
doesn’t cross your mind that you are lying." She said this as if it was a passing thought, but I
knew better.
"You’ve made that point, and I get it, but what does it matter when everyone agrees with an
innocuous practice to keep things friendly."
"What’s wrong with clarity to keep things friendly, especially after you’ve experienced it at
heightened levels?"
"There’s nothing wrong with it. Like I said, we all do a similar verbal dance so that we’re
not misunderstood on a basic level. You know I understand the continuity of confusion issue," I
chuckled at the memory of my struggles to make fewer errors, "but we’re sitting here talking
about nothing important to be confused about."