Transition: Chapter 30 (Route 169)

Walker starts to worry as soon as Nathan drives past the turn.

It’s been a very long day – what with waking up in the wee hours of the morning, the long drive to the race, the unplanned detour to the TV studio, and the long drive back (lengthened by Nathan’s penchant for occasional spontaneous diversions) – and Walker is eagerly anticipating collapsing onto his futon and going to sleep.

But now, when they’re just a few minutes from the ashram, Nathan whizzes right past Phillips Road and continues to drive down Route 169 toward Sturdivant.

What is he up to?

Sunshine is turning her head, and Walker thinks that she’s going to ask Nathan what’s going on, which is good, because then he won’t have to. But Sunshine hadn’t planned to say anything to Nathan, or maybe she just changed her mind, but at any rate she keeps turning her head until she’s looking at Walker, who’s sitting directly behind her. She raises an eyebrow at him, but Walker just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. Then she glances over to where Chastity sits, behind Nathan, and Walker looks to his left to see how Chastity’s reacting to the missed turn. Chastity is meeting Sunshine’s eyes demurely, with an accusing look that seems to say: I’m not the slightest bit concerned, and you shouldn’t be, either; Nathan knows what’s best.

But when Sunshine looks back at Walker, her concern has deepened; a worried shadow wrinkles her brow. She widens her eyes and shrugs: What should I do? Walker motions with his head toward Nathan: Ask him what’s going on. Sunshine points to herself, and mouths: Me? Walker nods vehemently. They both glance at Chastity for support; but Chastity, who has observed the entire pantomime with a detached amusement bordering on contempt, merely smiles sweetly, too sweetly, her eyes filled with disdainful reproach.

When Sunshine turns back to Walker, he nods at Nathan with even more force: Do it! So, with a sigh, she turns to her left and begins to speak...

But before she can say anything at all, Nathan volunteers: “We’re going into town.”

Walker can see that Sunshine feels ashamed, it’s all over her face. How could she have possibly thought to question Nathan? She shoots a look back at Walker, more wounded than accusing; and Walker is sorry that he put her in that position, but he had to know, and it made sense for Sunshine to be the one to ask, she’s sitting right next to him. And Sunshine won’t hold it against him, anyway. Chastity, on the other hand, meets his eyes briefly with an I-told-you-so look, then turns to the window with a huffy flip of her hair.

He can’t try to maneuver Sunshine into asking again, it wouldn’t be right. So he screws up his nerve and clears his throat. “Nathan?” he asks, hesitantly. “Do you really think that going into Sturdivant is such a good idea?”

He can feel Chastity’s eyes burning into him: How dare he question Nathan! What blatant sacrilege! Sunshine looks concerned, and a little nervous, as if she’s sitting too close to someone who’s about to be struck by lightning.

Although Walker shares some of Sunshine’s anxiety, the bottom line for him is that he knows that Nathan will not be upset. Although his spiritual authority is unquestioned – and, indeed, unquestionable – Nathan never discourages natural curiosity.

And, of course, Nathan never gets upset about anything.

“Do you think that going into Sturdivant is not such a good idea?” Nathan asks.

This is a common technique, one that Walker recognizes from a Psychology course he took last year at Penn State. Like a Rogerian therapist, Nathan often rewords questions and shoots them back at the questioner. Which is hardly surprising because, Walker knows, before Nathan got involved in Eastern mysticism, he had, indeed, been a Rogerian therapist.

“Many of the people in town don’t like us, Nathan.”

“Why don’t they like us, Walker?” As always, Nathan sounds curious but entirely unconcerned.

Walker knits his brow and strains to pick his words carefully. “Because we’re different than they are, I suppose. And because they don’t know us very well. I would guess that they’re afraid of us, Nathan.”

“Do they have reason to be afraid of us, Walker?”

“No, Nathan, of course not.” Where is this leading? Is it leading anywhere? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. “But the point is that we may have reason to be afraid of them.”

“Are you afraid of them, Walker?”

Walker examines his thoughts carefully. “I guess maybe I am, Nathan,” he says, nodding glumly. “But it’s not so much a fear for myself, I don’t think. I’m afraid for you and the girls.”

“Well, I’m certainly not afraid, Walker.” Chastity, the voice of orthodoxy, looks down her nose at him. “Nothing bad can happen to us while we’re with Nathan. We have no reason to fear.” She smiles brightly, and looks into the rear-view mirror, hoping to catch Nathan’s eye, eager for his approval.

Walker is silent. He tries not to be put off by Chastity’s snide smugness; there’s a nugget of truth in what she says. It isn’t so much that his fears are groundless; it’s entirely possible that some of the locals might pick a fight with them, especially at night. Especially if they’ve been drinking. Still, Walker remembers, Nathan teaches us that what happens, happens. Events are not “good” or “bad” in and of themselves; labeling them is all part of the illusion.

Being with Nathan, Walker thinks, is the ultimate good – if that term can, indeed, be applied to anything at all. So he closes his tired eyes, clears his mind, concentrates on the mantra with which Nathan has invested him, and begins to meditate, silently, but very, very, earnestly.