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And with that Tom closed the trunk and told his father that they had to be going. Brad gave Crystal a good-bye kiss on the forehead. He had never liked her and the feeling was mutual.

Before long they were on Highway 101, heading to San Francisco. They had to allow two days for a trip that normally would have taken seven hours; until they got beyond Santa Barbara, the roads were a nightmare. As they were crawling along, leaving Los Angeles County, Tom said to his father, “You know what? I envy you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think your life is going to be relaxed and fun and this will be a world-class third act.”

“I’ve already had a third act.”

“Let’s not get literal. You know what I mean.”

“You shouldn’t envy me. I would kill to be your age.”

“Believe me, Dad, you don’t want to be my age. It’s not the same as it was when you were my age.”

“It breaks my heart to hear you talk like that.”

“What can I say? It’s a struggle. The idea of spending the rest of my life on a cruise ship is intoxicating. I wish I was you.”

This made Brad so sad. This was not how it was supposed to be. A child should not long to trade places with the parent. Brad wished he could make it better, but he needed money to do that. “Tom … life can change at any moment. I feel something good is coming for you. And I have something I want to say.” Tom looked at his father. “If the Chinese don’t offer money but offer to rebuild the condo instead, I would allow you to live there with your family forever if that would make things easier.”

“Thanks, Dad, but you would need to sell that place. You need your money.”

“Well, maybe if you moved to the new Los Angeles you would find a much better job, and if you had a free place to live you could save something. And send a little to me.”

“I appreciate the gesture. Let’s see how it all works out.”

Brad reached over and squeezed his son’s leg, giving him a small bit of physical affection. Something that was rare between the two of them.

After spending the night in a cheap motel in San Luis Obispo, they reached San Francisco the next afternoon and went directly to Fisherman’s Wharf. They sat in a little grotto having some clam chowder, and they could see the big ship in the harbor. Brad still carried the brochure and he had to laugh. The ship in the pictures looked a lot better, but what pictures didn’t?

The departure time was five o’clock. They finished their meal at three-thirty and Tom walked with his father to the dock. When they boarded the ship there was not enough staff to show each retiree to his or her room, so they were given the room number, the deck, and the directions, and told the luggage would be delivered later.

Tom and his dad took an elevator to the third deck and walked down a rather dark hallway with what looked like two hundred doors. Toward the end of the hall they could see the number 316. This would be the place where Brad would spend at least the next ten years of his life, and they both were hoping their first impression would be a good one.

“This is it,” Tom said. He touched a card on the door and it opened. Brad was nervous. If the rest of the ship didn’t look like the brochure, he couldn’t imagine the rooms would, either. And he was right. He stood in the doorway and stared at his two-room suite, if “suite” was the proper word. There was a small bedroom and a slightly bigger living room with a kitchenette in one corner and a shower and toilet in the other.

“Look at this,” Brad said. “The toilet’s in the living room.”

Tom tried to make the best of it. “That’s what they do on ships, Dad. You keep the bathroom door closed and it looks like a closet. I think the suite is lovely.” His father didn’t bother to answer. He looked at the green couch and the worn leather armchair and went over and sat in it. “How is it?” Tom asked.

“Not bad. Pretty comfortable.”

Tom went into the bedroom. “Hey, Dad, come in here. Nice view.” His father walked into the small room and there was a porthole that showed a speck of blue sky.

“Great. I see they make it small enough so