The quip stayed with me not only because it was a drastically different take on my father’s utopian visions but also because it pointed to the otherworldly nature of wealth, which I confirmed during my time with Bevel. I had never coveted any of his luxuries. They had intimidated and angered me, yes, but above all they had always made me feel unwelcome and alien. As if I were a displaced earthling, alone in a different world—a more expensive one that also thought itself better. That evening, however, in Bevel’s car I experienced, for the first time, the cool rush of luxury. I did not just
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“The cool rush of luxury.”
