The Meadow 171 to educate his son right out of his life, to places Jim didn’t understand. “Try harder, Jim. Read the books Jimmy gave you.” Don’t Even Think About It: Why Our Brains are Wired to Ignore Climate Change and Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are? were both sitting in the bottom of his overnight bag, spines intact. At the end of the day, he’d rather watch the news or a ball game, not crack open a book, especially ones as depressing as these sounded. “I’m going to be late for my yoga class.” Jim pictured Karen leaning against the counter in their kitchen. It was a nice tract house in Modesto that they’d bought brand new fifteen years ago. Jim was proud of it, and a little sad he didn’t get to spend much time there. “I can’t believe our town has a yoga studio.” “We have a dozen yoga studios, Jim. I go to the one by Thousand Oaks Park.” “Across from the drive-in? I was thinking about retiring as soon as Jimmy’s done with school. I could go to yoga with you. Can you imagine me doing yoga?” “I really have to run, Jim. Talk later.” She clicked off. Following Jimmy’s lead, Karen also stopped eating meat, and she began losing weight. Every time Jim came home, there was less and less of her. “My incredible shrinking wife,” he’d say. Secretly, Jim missed the old heft of her, reaching out for her solid, soft form lying next to him in bed. Where he’d once thought of her as a lush flower he could lose himself in, she was now a prickly cactus, bony and sharp. Retired, he’d probably have to stop eating meat too. He looked down at his belly and patted it. “Days are numbered, old friend.” Jim showered and shaved in the Flying J bathroom, then decided he’d walk to town to get dinner. There was no shortage of Mexican and Thai restaurants, but he was in the mood for American food, so he headed for the Perko’s at the end of the street. They had changed their name and look since the last
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