20SAN MARTIN, CALIFORNIA, MAY 1973—Bobby was in the Safeway at Sixth and Miwok. He had just handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill. In his bag he had two large zucchinis, one jar of spaghetti sauce, a box of mushrooms, a pound of mozzarella, a pound of ground chuck, and bread, peanut butter and cigarettes. In his mind swirled the idea to use zucchini slices instead of lasagna noodles. The entire preparation and cooking time, he reasoned, could be cut to a third, because there’d be no precooking.
“Oh, excuse me.”
Bobby startled. Looked back, down. There was a woman picking up a clutter of coupons from the floor. Behind her were eight children, all about the same age. Bobby lifted a foot to give the woman room. She looked up, smiled. His thoughts crumbled. Bobby bent. He did not take his
