“Who knows? My mom doesn’t do anything small. The policy could even be for a half a million or a million.”
“A million?” Mindy felt faint.
“Then again,” Artie grabbed more jelly beans, “they could get all the way up there and not find the policy, or like you said, find it and then realize it lapsed. It’s hard for my mother to remember what she did last week let alone seventeen years ago.”
“It would be my money though, right?” Aaron’s breathing got heavy. “’Cause she was my mom?”
“Oh. Um. Well, no. Not exactly.” Artie straightened his back. “We’d have to wait and see how the policy was written if they find it at all. But most likely, my parents made me the beneficiary.”
“What’s that?”
“A beneficiary is the person who’s listed on the policy to receive the benefits when a death claim is made. Most times it’s in the spouse’s name because they’re the ones with all the financial responsibilities.”
“But you weren’t married no more and I’m still her son.”
Artie and Mindy exchanged glances. The look on Aaron’s face had gone from sunny to ice cold with a wind-chill factor of ten below zero.
“You know what?” Artie coughed. “We’re really getting ahead of ourselves here. We don’t know anything yet. There may not even be a policy. I guess it was dumb to say anything until we knew for sure….”
“Your father is right,” Mindy continued, “but it reminds me of when the lottery first started in New York, and we bought a bunch of tickets and talked all night about what we’d do if we won, then had this huge fight because we couldn’t agree, remember?”
“Yeah. You wanted to buy your parents a place in Florida and I wanted to get a boat.”
“Needless to say we learned our lesson about counting our chickens,” Mindy laughed, “so let’s stay cool. Even if in the best-case scenario there is a policy and we get the money, it doesn’t mean we have to go out and spend it. We’d want to come up with a plan.”
“Exactly,” Artie said. “Remember Nadine and Peter told us about Lee Rosenberg, that financial planner in Jericho? They swear by him.”
“Oh, yeah. Great idea,” Mindy said, “We’d meet with him, tell him our goals, and listen to his advice. He could save us a lot of money on our taxes.”
“Maybe we’d even have enough to get you a car. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
“I hate you!” Aaron clenched his fist. “I hate you both!”
“Why?” Artie stopped chewing. “What did we do?”
“You’re acting all happy ’cause my mom died. You people are sick!”
“No. You’re misunderstanding. We’re not happy that she died, we’re happy that maybe now we’d have a way to take care of you.”
“But it’s MY money!” Aaron grabbed Artie’s car keys on his desk and ran out the back door. “It’s MY money!”
They chased him, but Aaron was younger, thinner, and had the benefit of brand-new Nikes on his feet. What he didn’t have was the knowledge of where his father’s car was parked so that he had to dart through a crowded parking lot, narrowly missing an oncoming UPS truck.
“Aaron! Hold up!” Artie shouted. “I can’t run as fast as you. Do you want me to have a heart attack trying?”
Welcome to Jewish guilt. Aaron stopped, allowing Artie and Mindy to catch up. But for Mindy it wasn’t the shock of having sprinted in moccasins that startled her. It was the realization she was seeing double. Both father and son looked bewildered by the other’s disrespect.
“We’re sorry,” she panted. “That was really inconsiderate of us. We weren’t thinking.” She glared at Artie as if to say, nice job, dumb ass.
“Look,” Artie said, reading her loud and clear. “Of course you’re confused. We really screwed that up.”
“I’m not confused, man!” Aaron yelled. “I know when someone’s gettin’ fucked, okay? My mom died and that money should be for me and Rainbow and the baby, and so I don’t have to live with your crap decisions. You don’t know what I need, so don’t pretend you do. I run my own life!”
“Aaron, listen.” Artie panicked. “I said the same things to my father, but you have to understand. If there is a policy, it’s a legal document.”
“So what? You think I’m too stupid to figure out what it says?”
“I’m not even sure I could figure out what it says…. No, I’m saying that if my name is listed as the beneficiary then that’s that, but it doesn’t mean that I win and you lose.”
“‘I am not what you see, I don’t answer to you, please understand what I mean, while it gives me a thrill, it’s all I can do, you realize I do it all for you…’”
“Stop singing, damn it!” Artie snapped. “I hate when you tune me out like that.”
“It’s called “Cheat Me” by Dogwood,” Aaron spit out.
“I’m sure it’s one of the finest songs ever written, but give me a break. I’m trying to make you understand.”
“Then you’re doin’ a great job, ’cause I totally get what your deal is.”
Artie exchanged glances with Mindy. The look said stop me from strangling the kid.
“Hey!” She whistled to get his attention. “You’re in shock right now…so are we. But we’re trying to tell you that if this thing happens, it’s good for the whole family.”
“You’re sayin’ that now, okay?” Aaron stammered. “But I know how this goes down…. It’s like when my mom promised me a new TV. As soon as the welfare checks came, her and my dad would go to Wal-Mart and buy all this shit and tell me they’d get me my stuff the next time, but there never was a next time.”
“Wait, hold on.” Artie tried putting his arm around his boy. “No fair comparing us…Mindy and I said from the start that we would do whatever it took to make sure you had all the same opportunities as our other kids. We’d get you into counseling, hire tutors, start looking at colleges—”
“Aaron, look at me,” Mindy said. “Do you honestly believe that if we handed you a big check and said hey kid, good-bye and good luck, you’d be set for life?”
“Hell, yes! You give me my money and that’s all the help I need.”
“You say that now,” Mindy shouted, “but you’re seventeen and clueless, which is why God invented parents. And believe me, we get that you’ve been cheated out of a lot of things and that you’re just trying to protect yourself, but that’s not what’s happening here. Your father wanted you to be the first to know about this possible windfall because he loves you and only wants the best for you. If he was really looking to cheat you, you would never have known any of this.”
Aaron studied his new sneakers and kicked pebbles.
“You know what I was thinking?” Artie kicked pebbles, too. “I knew your mom pretty well and I’m sure she felt terrible that she could never give you the kind of life you deserved. But now look. Whether we get the money or not, for the first time you’re going to have a chance for a real family life, a future with great opportunities. That was always her wish for you, Aaron. It was always our wish for you.”
“I guess.” Aaron’s lip curved, more retreat than smile.
Artie grabbed his boy and gave him a hug. Maybe John Boy had returned to Walton Mountain after all.
If the police could give tickets for driving while distracted, Mindy would have been pulled over, for as she and Aaron headed to Target, she couldn’t concentrate on the road. Not when she was thinking about receiving a lump sum of insurance money at the same time she was trying to read her text messages. “Don’t ever drive while doing other things,” Mindy said. “It’s very dangerous.”
“Hell, that’s nothing,” Aaron laughed. “You should try rollin’ a joint while changin’ a CD and gettin’ a blow job!”
“Aaron!” she clutched the wheel. “A little respect, please.”
But truth was, she was happier talking to him than reading Stacie’s text messages complaining about her moron social studies teacher who wouldn’t
let her out of class so she missed being in the cast picture that was going to run in the paper.
Or listening to Nadine’s freak-outs about how it would be another few weeks before Jonathan heard from Indiana, and he was still undecided about his safe school, but meanwhile for good luck, he was refusing to wear anything other than IU’s school colors, red and white.
Finally, a call with good news. The unit coordinator at the nursing home informed Mindy that her grandmother’s blood pressure had dropped enough for her to be released from the hospital, and now she was back at the home, where she had resumed her normal activities, including mistreating the orderlies and accusing other residents of stealing her magazines.
But it was the call she got while shopping that made her pull over, though it was only a cart, not a car.
“It’s Beth? Where are you?”
“Target with Aaron…are you okay? You sound terrible.”
“I am terrible…sick as a dog. Can you pick up something for me like Pepto?”
“Sure. Of course. What are your symptoms? Do you have a fever? Diarrhea?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m a little light-headed and I can’t stop vomiting.”
“Poor thing. It’s all the stress from Richard, or maybe your stomach forgot how to digest junk food. Aaron, over here.” She waved, studying the contents of his cart. “Did you leave anything for the other customers?”
“Cool store,” he blushed.
“Oh, I know. Visa loves it, too. What is all this stuff?”
“Nothin’…some things for my room.”
“A snowboard, a basketball…Damn! You inherited Artie disease. Were they out of kayaks?”
“They have those? What aisle?”
“Never mind…. Just go put everything back that is not absolutely essential to your health and well-being and meet me at the check-out in ten minutes…sorry, Beth. Aaron is having a Target moment…. Where were we?”
“I was saying I must have the flu.”
“Well for that you need rest, fluids—”
“And my boobs are killing me, too.”
“Your boobs?” Mindy dropped a bag of Tootsie Rolls. “Are you sure it’s the flu?”
“The flu, a virus, whatever. Just find something to put me out of my misery.”
“A home pregnancy test?” Mindy could barely get the words out.
“Oh my God, bite your tongue, Mindy. I am NOT pregnant. How could you even say something so stupid? There is no way!”
“Sorry. It’s just that other than the vomiting, it doesn’t sound like the flu.”
“Well, whatever. I’m not pregnant…. My mother does this to me, too. Always has to think the worst. Diarrhea means Crohn’s disease. Depression is Lyme disease…”
“Fine. Besides, you’d know if your period was late.”
“I’m hanging up if you don’t get off this subject.”
“Plus, I’m sure you guys use protection.”
“Yes, it’s called anger and resentment. And I’m also on the pill…when I remember.”
“When you remember?” Mindy shrieked, forgetting she was in public. “This isn’t like cleaning the fish tank. You have to keep up with it.”
“Would you stop?” Beth yelled back. “You are getting me very nervous and upset now…I’m sure I had my period last month…pretty sure. But, whatever…I couldn’t be pregnant now because my husband left me, I’m forty fucking years old, and I’m sure all my eggs have hatched.”
“Um, apparently you let your subscription to People lapse…. Do you know how many celeb moms are over forty? That actress from Desperate Housewives, Marcia Cross? She was like forty-four when she had her baby. And what about Brooke Shields and Courtney Cox and that one from the show about the woman president, you know who I mean….”
“Geena Davis?”
“Yeah, her. I love her…anyway, I think she was closer to fifty, so all I’m saying is, the eggs don’t always know what time it is.”
“You’re insane…. I’m sure it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing.”
Or a twenty-four-year thing. “You sure you don’t want me to pick up a home pregnancy test? Remember the other day when you said you were so hungry lately?”
Silence.
“Beth?”
“No. There’s no need. I am NOT pregnant….”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Nineteen
Aaron had gone from being enraged in the morning to exultant an hour later, and Mindy knew to attribute this sudden change in cabin pressure to flying high at Target. Never before had he experienced the flow of oxygen to the brain from shopping, but there was no denying his joy when he picked out hair gel, body wash, and three funny T-shirts.
In fact, he was in such a good mood on the way to the district office, he was calm enough to start asking thoughtful, curious questions about school, and if he could maybe work for Artie at the store. It gave Mindy hope that this harrowing climb up Blended Family Mountain would not have to end in a free fall.
But not so fast. While filling out the school registration forms, Mindy discovered how quickly Target Man could turn into Brat Boy. It wasn’t that he refused to answer questions about his GPA, his extracurricular activities, and if he was ever tested for scoliosis. It was that he chose to misbehave, like a puppy who peed on the rug in the hopes of discouraging a family from bringing him home.
At first when he tried juggling the clown figurines on Mrs. Cassidy’s credenza, she winked at Mindy as if to say, it’s fine, I understand he’s nervous. But when he laughed at her family photos and did a handstand while singing Frank Zappa’s “Weasels Ripped My Flesh,” not even quick-on-her-feet Mindy could explain his errant antics.
Plus, with his transcript and medical records still in transit, Mrs. Cassidy said she had no choice but to sum up her observations with the trifecta of labels: OCD, ADD, and immature social skills. This left Mindy with no recourse when Mrs. Cassidy told her that Aaron would be starting school in a remedial program. “And make sure he’s medicated before he arrives in the building.”
“Weasels ripped my flesh?” Mindy wanted to fling him against the car but feared that someone in the office would catch her and add “abuse victim” to his file.
“She was a dirtbag.” He waited for her to unlock the passenger side.
“A dirtbag? All she did was ask you about your previous high school. What did you think we were there to talk about? The death of acid rock? I can not believe you behaved like that!”
“I’m seventeen. Law says I don’t have to be in school no more.”
“No, no. The only law that pertains to you is the Sherman Law, and that states very clearly that you will not only finish high school and bust your ass to get good grades, you will sit for the Regents exams, you will take the SAT’s, and you will go to college and lead a productive life. Do you want to end up selling Cutco knives the rest of your life and force us to hit up our friends every year so you can win free travel?”
“You don’t even know me. Why are you buggin’ out on me?”
“Buggin’ out? That’s what you think I’m doing? Oh, right. Because with three other kids, a job I hate, and a failing business, I was short of things that pissed me off. You want to know why I’m so angry? It’s because you blew the chance to show off how smart and capable you are. Now Mrs. Cassidy is thinking psych wards and Ritalin.”
“‘We don’t need no education…we don’t need no thought control…’”
“Don’t you dare sing “Another Brick in the Wall”! This isn’t funny, Aaron!”
“It’s just school…Any chimp can get through it.”
“Oh, really? Well let me tell you something about chimps, ’cause Jamie just finished a big project on primates and I happen to remember a thing or two.”
“You talk too much, woman. Let’s just go.”
“Fine, but we’re still going to talk about this.” She unlocked the door but refused to turn on the ignition.
/> “This is madness!” Aaron air strummed his guitar.
“Tough! I’m just warming up. And for your information, chimpanzees have this amazing capacity for exhibiting social behaviors. They’re sensitive to feelings, they help groom one another, and they’ll even risk their lives to save a fellow chimp.”
“Stop trying to be my mom, okay? ’Cause you’re not…and don’t mess with my life ’cause I already know what I’m gonna do with it.”
“Oh. So that’s the grand plan? Help Rainbow with the baby, then sit around and write music and wait for some big producer to call and say ‘Hey, Aaron, you’re the bomb. Have your people call my people’?”
“The bomb?” Aaron groaned. “You are too cool for me, but yeah, at least I’d be doin’ somethin’ that made me happy.”
“And you think this the life your mom envisioned for you? To drop out of high school, write a few chords, and call it a day?”
“Don’t talk shit about my mom!”
“I’m not. We’re having a discussion. I’m just trying to get you to understand that you could have an amazing future doing all the things you love, but it has to start with a decent education.”
“Whatever…Art told me you guys don’t have enough money for college.”
“We don’t have enough money for most things, but it hasn’t stopped us yet…. And who knows? We could end up with that life insurance money. If not, we’ll take out student loans. But trust me, if you think college is expensive, wait until you see what it costs you not to go.”
“School’s bullshit.”
“Some of it is, I agree. I’ve always said they should make the kids take classes on handling money and crises. And it kills me that they don’t teach leadership skills or how to make the most out of your creativity. But that’s the thing. It’s not what you learn in the classroom that makes school so important, it’s what you learn about yourself: the things you’re good at, how to get along with different kinds of people. And if along the way you do study something you enjoy, or you read books that move you, you’ll have things to write about forever. But if your music is only an expression of your very limited experiences, then your songs will reflect that and nobody will buy them.”
Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead Page 20
