Chapter 30 Chapter Thirty

They rented a car at a place in Los Angeles that rents out other people's discarded cars. "There's a problem with turning corners in this car," the sun-glassed guy said as he handed them the keys. "Sometimes it's easier for you to get out and find another car that goes that direction." They spent the night at a hotel on the Sunset Strip where they had been told they would love to be confused. “Everyone there was either British or eccentric or both. There was a swimming pool and you could go and see British rock stars reading Language, Truth and Logic for Photographers.”

This is real.There really is one out there, and it's actually doing it. Garage keepers don't think their cars are great, and that's okay because they think so too. Later that night they drove down Mulholland Drive through the hills of Hollywood, stopping first to look out at the sea of ​​blinding lights in Los Angeles, then to look across the sea of ​​blinding lights in the San Fernando Valley.They agreed that the dazzled sensation stayed there as soon as it got behind their eyes, touching nothing else, and went away with a strange dissatisfaction with the sight.The blinding sea of ​​lights was gone, which was good, but the lights were supposed to illuminate something, and the blinding sea of ​​lights driving through them was illuminating something, they didn't think much of it.

They slept late and badly, and woke up around lunchtime, damn hot. They drove out, along the highway, to Santa Monica, to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and the Lone Wake had spent all his days and most of his nights looking at this ocean. "I was told," said Fenchurch, "that they once overheard a conversation on this beach with two old ladies who were seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time in their lives just like we are now. There was a moment of silence. Then one said to the other: 'Look, it's not as big as I thought.'" Their spirits heightened as the sun moved to the western half of the sky, and they got back into the clanging car, heading toward a sunset that no one with an iota of aesthetics would have thought to be in, even in their dreams. Build a city like Los Angeles before such a sunset.At this moment, they suddenly felt amazing and irrationally happy, and they didn't even care that the old car radio could only play two stations, and they played them at the same time.What's the matter, both stations play good rock music.

"I know he can help us," Finchitch said firmly. "I know he can. What's his name, that's what he likes to be called?" "The Lone Wake." "I know he can help us." Arthur didn't know if he could, he hoped, he hoped that what Fenchurch had lost could be found here, on this earth, whatever this earth might be. He hoped, he had fervently hoped ever since they talked at the Serpentine Bank, that no one would ever ask him to recall something that he had buried so carefully and firmly in the deepest part of his memory, that he hoped that it would never come again. harass him.

They stopped at what looked like a converted warehouse in Santa Barbara where fish was the staple. Finchchi ate red anchovy and said it was delicious. Arthur ate a swordfish steak and said he was angry. He grabbed the arm of a passing waitress and berated her. "How can this fish be so delicious?" he asked angrily. "Forgive my friend," Fenchurch said to the stunned waiter, "I think he finally had a good day."