Good People

Good People by Robert Lopez Page A

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Authors: Robert Lopez
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time. Nothing looks familiar to her, I’m sure. This is something I’m smart enough not to ask, though I did have to catch myself once. A lot of people think I’m quiet or shy, but it’s just that I’m smart enough not to lend voice to thought if I can help it. It was the same way with my sister and the blue jays. I wanted to ask her if she was taking anymedication or seeing a therapist or getting enough sleep. I wanted to say she should get herself laid one time, maybe get blind drunk some night, but I kept it all to myself. People have a hard time recognizing this kind of genius, but I’m happy to say that my new wife can. She said as much the night we met. She said, I can tell how smart you are by how you sit and say nothing. I married her three days later. This was back in Atlantic City, which seems another lifetime ago, maybe two lifetimes, even though it’s only been three days. This is how the world works sometimes. Time and math don’t always apply.
    My new wife has never been anywhere other than Atlantic City for the past five years. I’m not sure where she was before that. I did ask once. I said, Where are you from? And she said, I’m not proud of this. Sometimes Eastern Europeans talk this way, so I think that’s what she is, where she’s from. It can mean almost anything, so I decided to drop it. Another thing people don’t know about me is my intuition and how sharp it is. I told her it wasn’t important. I told her the only important thing was our everlasting devotion. She agreed by getting behind the wheel and driving north to Piscataway. This is yet another reason she is doing the driving, and it works out, so I can do the looking. She wouldn’t know what to look for and also she doesn’t like responsibility, I don’t think. I can’t claim this as fact, but I’ve pickedup on such. There’s only so much you can learn about a person in four days, so at this point it’s all suspicion and extrapolation, which is as close to intuition as you can get sometimes. I do, however, know plenty about myself, but only when it comes to poker. I know I don’t like to play suited connectors out of position and that I’m best at the three-bet. I can play back at anyone who tries to bully me. This is how I met my new wife, at the table. I raised preflop with an ace-ten of spades and she played back at me. So I reraised and put her all in. I was surprised when she called with a pair of nines, but sometimes Eastern Europeans play fast and loose like that. I caught an ace on the turn and that was that until an hour or so later when I saw her crying at the bar.
    Another reason she is doing the driving is I don’t have a valid driver’s license. It was revoked last year, I’m pretty sure. I think it was for my third DUI, which is a night I’d like to remember. I know that’s a reason they revoke licenses, the third strike, so to speak. Otherwise, I let the license lapse and never renewed it. I’m not sure which is true in this instance. It could be that I’ve lost my license both ways over the years. It is like me to ignore things I have to do, like renew driver’s licenses, pay the heating bill, rent, insurance. Sometimes I forget to call my sister. It’s not that I forget to return her calls because she’s never called me on the telephone or dropped by in person. I’ve learned not to take thispersonally, though I’m sure it’s personal. I’m sure she holds me responsible for something and there’s no getting over it. Maybe it’s the monkey bars. Maybe she thinks I’m the one who tripped her. Even still, I have it in my head to call her every so often, check in. I like to know she’s okay, that she’s still living some kind of life. This is one reason we’re driving around Piscataway, trying to find her. I also want to introduce her to my new wife, show her that

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