FaceMate

by Steven M. Greenberg

  “And if I do all that, how long have I got? What’s your best estimate?”

  “Nobody can say. Maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe even three years or four or five—Just be careful, Ben. Be careful and take care of yourself.”

  Then Harvey hugged him with touching affection and hurried out of the room.

  So he’d listened, best he could. He’d lounged around the house these past few days, sat around the office with his feet propped on the desk, done his best to keep quiet, serene, unemotional. He’d been a cooperative, obedient boy—Well up until yesterday, at any rate, when the fecal matter really hit the fan. Had he misbehaved in any way? No, not really. How could he have known what he’d see on that computer screen he was about to look at? How could he even have imagined?

  A girl that FaceMate matched with that picture in his drawer; that’s what Alex had told him. And he’d been expecting—what? A reasonable similarity to Lizzie, sure; Alex’s program all but guaranteed that. But when he stepped around the desk and took one look at that image on the desk-top’s screen—Bam! That one quick glance was all it took: Hankering for air? Prickling in the breast bone? Forget it! This time it was lights out completely! And when those lights came on again flickering dimly in a pea-soup fog, well holy hell! There he was, stuck on the medical merry-go-round for the duration: White coats popping out of nowhere, they toss you in an ambulance at speed, take you to a scene of chaos in an emergency room. Where they stick you with needles, run scans, do X-rays; then from there, once you’re poked and scanned and X-rayed, then what? Well they load you in a copter to Cleveland, where some stone-faced surgeon lies in wait, and you tell him what Harvey would have told him if he’d been on that cart: You tell him: No, but thanks a lot anyway, doc, I’ll keep my heart right where it is.

  And having said it, you wind up here, at the terminal station on the line, lying on a rubber-covered mattress in a green-tiled room with an oxygen cannula stuck in your nose, and the realization that you’ll pretty soon be dead.

  But once the fuss is over, and you’re totally resigned—well, it isn’t all that hard for you to die. After all, if you’ve done all the things you’d really wanted to do with your life, anything else would be simply more of the same old same. Ending it is easy; the hard part is going to be for the others, the ones you’ve left behind. Carole, Eddie, and now Tommy too: Saying good-bye to them would be painful, agonizing. Avoid stress? If avoiding stress was essential, five minutes of watching Eddie’s sobbing and Carole tearing out her hair—Christ! that sure as hell would do him in.

  So what to do? Ben’s heart might be shot, but that brain of his was still running at its customary peak efficiency. And he thought: What were the things he absolutely had to do, and what would it take to get them done? He’d promised to have that talk with the boy. And if he could stay alive to do it, Tommy would benefit, and maybe he would too; the kid had a soothing effect on him, the diametric opposite of stress.

  And the girl—that girl! She’d be up and in his room by probably1:00 or 1:15. For more than thirty years now, he had dreamed of nothing more ardently desirable than seeing his darling Lizzie’s face again. Every crowd he’d walked through, every film he’d seen, every picture book and magazine: For thirty years he’d searched those many hundred thousand images looking for a pair of eyes, of lips, a little nose like Lizzie’s. All the multifarious permutations of human DNA: There had to be someone, somewhere who looked just like her, but nothing he’d seen in those thirty years had even remotely come close.… Until now.

  Oh, it wouldn’t be Liz, of course. No human being could precisely match her beauty and her grace—he knew that up front and wasn’t expecting a miracle. But the similarity of that picture on the screen to the face he remembered from thirty years ago—It was nothing short of amazing! There’d be differences, of course, little details that he might discern but that to others would be imperceptible. Lizzie was a one-time phenomenon, after all; there could never be another. But even a vague similarity to the love of his life would take him back to the happiest times he’d ever known. Whether he died today or tomorrow or a month from now—that made little difference now. But if he could see even a pale reflection of Lizzie again, his Lizzie, his darling, darling Lizzie; if he could close his eyes on the image of that face—that would be a pretty fabulous kind of death.

  And so he thought and thought, and, this being Ben, and Ben being the brilliant strategist that he was; the fellow who’d surmounted every daunting obstacle that ever had the effrontery to block his way, it wasn’t very long before he came up with a solution.

  And, once he’d come up with that solution, it wasn’t very long before he proceeded to put that grand solution into effect.

  42

  “Hey Charlotte—Did I wake you, hon?” Though probably not, he thought. She’d answered her cellphone on the first ring.

  “Wake me!” Poor thing; she sounded stressed. And truthfully, why wouldn’t she be? All of them were. Stressed, on edge, raw nerves—but all of that was over now, thank God. Charlotte couldn’t know that yet, however; and so she answered: “You think that we could sleep, Eddie? No. Heck no; we’re sitting here on the sofa. Carole is crying her eyes out. I’m afraid to leave her alone.”

  “Well, tell her she can stop her crying, Char. I’m calling to give her some wonderful news. I just talked to Benny, and—look, is she there?”

  “I just told you that she is. She’s right here next to me on the couch.”

  “OK, well put her on, OK? I’ll tell her the good news myself.”

  Eddie heard Char’s voice directed away from the cellphone saying: “Here, Carole, Eddie wants to tell you something. He says he’s got good news.”

  “What, Eddie? Is Ben feeling any better?”

  “Better than that, Carole. He’s agreeing to have the operation done—That pump to keep him going until he gets the new heart.”

  “He did? He agreed? Oh that’s great! That’s fabulous! How did you manage to convince him? Or did Tommy do it? Ben tends to listen to the boy.”

  “Nobody convinced him, as far as I’m aware. His private duty nurse came in to get a pen and paper from the business office, and I was sitting in the lounge area there—which is adjacent, and—I don’t know what happened, but the nurse said that Bennie wanted to see me, so in I went and—Jesus! He asked me what I thought: Should he tell the doctor to set the operation up? And I said yeah, sure. I mean, what has he got to lose? So he told me he’d think about it a little more, but probably we could go ahead get it scheduled in a day or so. Me and Tommy—we’ve been hugging each other and dancing around the room here for the last ten minutes; and I figured, hell, even if you guys were sleeping, I ought to let you know.”

  “Of course. That’s great! That’s wonderful! I couldn’t fall asleep, but since you told me, I might be able to sleep a little now.”

  “Yeah, me too. I gotta call the lawyers first, and then me and Tommy are gonna come on over and get into our rooms. Charlotte’s got the key cards, right?”

  “Hey, Char; do you have the other key cards? For the guys?”

  Yes said Char in the background.

  “She’s got them, Eddie. Come up to 722; we’ll be waiting. Did you say you’ve got to call the lawyers? Why do you have to call the lawyers now? And didn’t Benny fire that firm of lawyers who used to work for you? I thought he said he did.”

  “He did, yeah; but I guess they’ve been phoning Cindy every other day begging to get the contract back, so I’m pretty sure they’ll be out here the minute I call.”

  “OK, sure, but—why does Ben want you to call them? And get them here, you said? Now? To Cleveland?”

  “That’s what I wondered too, Carole, but the way he explained it to me, it makes perfect sense. He’s gonna have this operation, right? And it entails a certain amount of risk. So he wanted to make sure all the i’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed on all the paperwork for the Corporation before the surgery just in case. It’s a five perc
ent risk, Tommy told me, but you know Ben—He always covers every possible ‘just in case’”

  “OK, I guess that does make sense sort of. So, you coming over soon? We all ought to get a little sleep. Your poor wife is just about dead, sitting up all night fussing over me.”

  “Just gotta call the lawyers and I’m done. We’re gonna try and get them here by 9:00 or so. Then around noon, you and I are gonna head over to the airport to meet the girl—does that sound OK?”

  “Me? You need me to go?”

  “It’s Ben’s idea. He said the girl will feel more comfortable with a woman there when she gets in, and he said you’d probably want to see her anyway—Seeing that you and Lizzie were so close, and the girl looks so much like her. But if you don’t want to go, I can take Charlotte….”

  “No, no, I would like to go with you, Eddie; I really would. Leave it to Benny. That’s a great idea, truthfully. We’ll meet the girl and drop her off, then you and I can see Ben later, right? After he meets with Tommy and the girl? Sometime in the afternoon?”

  “That’s the plan, Carole. Tommy and I should be over within fifteen-twenty minutes. I’ll run up for our keys, then we can all get a little hard-earned sleep.”

  43

  “Hey, kid, what took you so long?”

  “Me! I was waiting for the lawyers to leave, Ben. Gosh, I’ve been sitting out in the lounge there for a couple of hours at least.”

  “OK, I’m just teasing you, Tommy; just busting your chops. Hey, I’m sick and I can bust a fellow’s chops at will and blame it on my illness, right? So anyway, come on over here and sit down by the bed. Grab that chair over in the corner; it’s more comfortable than this plastic piece of nonsense they set here for the guests. I told the private duty nurse to take off for a while so we could have some peace and quiet for the talk I promised you we’d have. So—you ready? You bring your note pad along?”

  “I don’t need a note pad, Ben. I remember everything you tell me. I can remember every word you’ve said to me practically verbatim for the past two weeks.”

  “And I remember most of yours too, Tommy. That’s how much we are in tune.”

  “Eddie and I have been celebrating since last night—or this early morning I guess it was—about your agreeing to the operation. Both of us are thrilled.”

  “Yeah, well about that—The chair soft enough? You comfortable enough to sit a little while?”

  “Yeah, it’s good. Cushy. Warm too, from where the nurse was sitting, I guess.”

  “He’s a character; his name is Carlos. You know they work twelve-hour shifts? Which means he’s been here all night. Nice guy. We had a lot of laughs.”

  “Uh-huh; it’s a lot easier to laugh now that we know you’re willing to have the procedure done.”

  “Right. Well, I was getting ready to tell you about that. Carlos did some stuff for me last night. I sent him out to get me a pen and paper and a couple of envelopes. The thing is, with Carole and Eddie, they’ve been so close to me for so long, it’s hard for me to see them sad the way they’ve been. So what I did, I wrote them letters; long letters, detailed letters; telling them how much they’ve meant to me and how grateful I am for their love and devotion and kindnesses—infinite kindnesses, you know? Not easy to write, as you can probably imagine, but writing it was a whole lot easier than having to tell them to their faces, especially with all the emotion going on.”

  “Yes, I can see that, Ben. Both of them were total wrecks until you changed your mind about the surgery. I guess I probably was a little too.”

  “I could see you were, Tommy, and I was touched by it, I really was. I think I know how you feel, and I feel the same way about you—I think you know that too, don’t you?”

  “I think so, Ben. I think I do.”

  “And you understand about me not wanting to spend the morning consoling Carole and Eddie, don’t you?”

  “Consoling them? Why would you have to console them now? I mean….”

  “You understand where I’m going with this, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Yeah, but Ben! You said you changed your mind. You told Eddie….”

  “I had to tell Eddie that, don’t you understand? Look, I haven’t got much more strength left in me, and there were two main things I wanted to do. One was for us to have our talk—which is good for me; it’s not stressful at all; if anything, it’s restorative—Besides, I promised, and I always keep my promises….

  “And the other thing I wanted was…. Look, you asked me something a couple of days ago; you asked me what my major goal in life has always been, my fundamental motivation. Yours was the car business: making autos in America—And I think I’ve got you started doing that; the rest is up to you. But let me ask you something: Do you have a girlfriend? Or have you ever had a girl who was special to you? Someone who was so important to your state of mind that you couldn’t imagine living life without her?”

  “I haven’t, Ben. I just haven’t ever met a girl I cared about that much. I know about you, though. Eddie told me all about it, but he said I shouldn’t ever talk about it with you directly. That I shouldn’t ever bring it up.”

  “That’s Eddie! Always looking out for his old buddy Ben. I was lucky to have had him as a friend all these years, Tommy, I genuinely was. But as for what he told you, things are different now. Since I saw that picture that Eddie found in his closet, and even more since I met you, I’ve been remembering all of the happy times of my early life, and it’s been helpful—No, more than just helpful—It’s been a godsend to me. You’ve been a very large part of that, Tom; and I’d like to pay you back for it in some small way, so what I want to do today is tell you some of the things you asked me about. Maybe hearing about my happy times in life will help you in finding some of yours—But let’s get this out of the way first. I’m going to ask a favor of you.”

  “You can ask me anything Ben, but about the surgery, you’re not really going to cancel it, are you? Now that everything is all prepared?”

  “But it isn’t all prepared, Tommy. I told Eddie I’d consider it, and I have considered it, and I came to the conclusion that it’s just not right for me. So what I’m going to ask you to do for me, is keep the envelopes in the bed-stand drawer in your possession, and give them to Carole and Eddie at the appropriate time. Everything I had to say to them is in there, and if the letters are delivered by you, I think they’ll take it better—Easier, I mean—OK?”

  “OK, sure, but….”

  “No, no ‘but’s. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. My heart is just strong enough to talk to you and meet with my Russian counterpart of Lizzie. I’m supposed to keep calm and unemotional, so if you get me too stirred up, the consequences will be on your head, you understand?”

  “I understand, Ben, but….”

  “Everything else is done. I talked to the lawyers and signed all the necessary forms. Eddie is my executor, of course, and the trust is in Carole’s name as well as mine, so there shouldn’t be any taxes due. What I’ve instructed Carole to do—and I can’t imagine her not doing it—is this: We have no children, as you know, and because of that, much of our estate on her demise would go by default to the government. As it happens, though, I’m not too enamored of the government and how it spends my money, so what I’ve asked her to do is arrange an adoption. You’ll have to work it out with your mother but….”

  “What? You’re telling me that….?’

  “If she’s amenable, yes—your mother and Carole both. If they are, our estate eventually would pass entirely to you to put into your company—Or for whatever other sinister purposes you have in mind. As for me, I won’t have a whole lot of interest in what happens to the money by then, whatever you decide to do with it, as long as it doesn’t go to Uncle Sam.

  “But listen,” Ben continued, “all this is business, purely business, and I didn’t intend for us to talk about business. What I wanted to do today was answer the question you asked me before—Maybe you forgot by now, but you wer
e interested in my goals and aspirations early on, wasn’t that it?”

  “Uh-huh, Ben, that was what I asked you, but….”

  “Nope. No more interruptions, Tommy. I’ve got a lot of stuff to say and not much strength or energy left to say it. So just sit back for a while and listen; and when I’m done, if I’ve still got breath in me by then, I’ll answer any questions you can think of—though I seriously doubt that you’ll have all that much to ask. Anyway, here goes:

  “My goals and aspirations, huh? That was what you asked me about, wasn’t it? Well, you know I’ve done an awful lot with my life. I’ve achieved more than most men ever even hope to achieve. I’ve accumulated amazing wealth—which hopefully will pass to you one day—I’ve travelled everywhere, done things I never dreamed of doing when I set out to make my fortune in the world. I’ve had my share of fame—or at least of notoriety. I’ve interacted with an incredible number of the royals and ministers and celebrities of the world—Which, by the way, is no big deal, Tommy; most of them are total duds.

  “But everything I’ve done and owned and accomplished in my life: I would have traded all of it and more for one more week to spend with Liz. If I could wish anything for you, and have my wish come true someday, it would be for you to find the kind of love I had with her. Notice that I didn’t say for her; I said with her, because the love we shared was so mutual and indistinguishable one from the other that the effect of it was to make two people into one.

  “Best way I can describe it to you, Tommy, is to describe the way we met. I was just a kid at the time—barely turned fifteen. Eddie was there; he knows what happened better than anyone other than Liz and me; but he saw it from across the room. He didn’t see what I saw or feel what I felt. I never really told him what happened that night—not in any detail—but I’m going to tell it to you.