Snowman

by Abramson, Mark

  "What number?" Dianne asked. "What lottery? What does this have to do with me?"

  "You never were much of a history buff, were you, Dianne?" Tim asked. "Even I knew about the lottery!"

  "Shut up!"

  Ruth turned back from the window. "They drew numbers—birthdates—to see who had to go into the Army first.

  Jonathan had a student deferment, but he’d let it lapse to go back East for a family crisis. I forget what it was, but he no sooner got back to California when he was drafted and shipped off to basic training. Then he was killed in Viet Nam on his first week over there. Cindy never even told him she was having his baby."

  "How awful," Tim said.

  "Cindy and I went into labor on the same day. We figured the babies must have been conceived on a weekend camping trip the four of us took together." Ruth smiled for a moment, remembering a pleasant respite in the midst of a nightmare. Then her face lost its color and she went on, "We went to the hospital and Cindy’s labor was smooth as could be. I got sick. I was burning up with fever and chills. The doctors thought they might lose me and my baby. They told me later I could never get pregnant again or it might kill me."

  Dianne let out a yawn and interrupted, "So… what on earth does this old story about you have to do with my kidneys?"

  "My baby was a boy, Dianne! He was stillborn. To make a long story short, we decided that I would adopt you before we even left the hospital. Cindy’s parents back East never had to find out she was pregnant and I still had a baby to love and raise as my own, just as I’d planned. I promised Cindy she could see you all she wanted, but we would never tell anyone about it…

  unless something like this happened."

  "How could you pull off a trick like that?" Dianne asked the question that was on Tim’s mind too.

  "It was a small private hospital and both my parents were still alive at the time. My father—you were too little to remember him—but he was a very powerful man and the whole plan just made perfect sense. Cindy would be able to see you all she wanted and watch you grow up, but she could also finish her education without the stigma of being an unwed mother. In those days things were a little different, you know?"

  "You mean my own mother didn’t want me?" Dianne asked.

  "That’s not what I said, Dianne! Of course we all wanted you. I raised you as my own daughter. Cindy moved to Minnesota so that she could be nearby. Dan adored you. You’re still his little girl."

  "I can’t believe you could get away with something like that."

  "Don’t worry. The adoption was all handled legally. It took a while for all the paperwork to be ironed out, but nobody else ever needed to know the whole truth. Not until now."

  "Oh my God!" Dianne screamed. "I just thought of something else. If she was my real mother, that means I’m a Jew!

  I can’t believe it. I’d rather be Chinese!"

  Tim giggled and said, "Don’t forget the ‘B’ word!"

  "I’ve been called a bitch before and it doesn’t bother me, you faggot!"

  "Bitch works too, but the ‘B’ I was talking about was

  ‘bastard,’ you bigot! Hey, there’s another ‘B’ word that fits you."

  Dianne reached for the call button to summon the nurse.

  "Get him out of here! I can’t take any more of this!"

  Tim stood up. "Don’t stress yourself. I’m leaving anyway. I’ll wait outside, Aunt Ruth. Good luck with the bigot…

  bastard… bitch… bible-thumping bimbo… boor… brat…" His words trailed behind him.

  "What about me?" Dianne was hysterical now. "What about my kidneys? You’re not even my real mother! You’re no use to me now."

  "Your birth mother may be able to help you, though.

  Cindy and Jack moved to Boston a few years ago, after their youngest son graduated high school. You have eight healthy half-brothers and sisters. There’s a good chance you might find a donor among them, I imagine."

  "Is everything all right in here?" Dianne and Ruth looked toward the doorway as the nurse, a young black man, walked in.

  "It sounded like someone was in trouble."

  "I’m afraid that Dianne has just received some very unsettling news."

  "I can’t believe you lied to me all these years!"

  "I’m sure this must come as a shock to you, Dianne, but I want you to know that all of us did what we thought was best for everyone involved, especially you, at the time…"

  The nurse said, "It’s time for your medication, anyway.

  This should help you sleep."

  "Why can’t everybody just leave me alone?"

  "Try to get some rest, Dianne, and we’ll talk more later."

  Ruth started toward the door but signaled to the nurse that she would wait for him in the hallway. Ruth paced until he came out of the room a few minutes later. "Is she alright?"

  "She’s sleeping now. Her doctor ordered intravenous sedatives as needed after the last time she became disruptive.

  She should sleep for a while now."

  "My cell phone number is on her chart as her emergency contact. Would you please call me if she needs me or if there’s any change at all?"

  "Are you her mother?"

  "Close enough…" Ruth rode the elevator down and walked outside the hospital doors where Tim stood in the sunshine with a big smile on his face, waiting to give her a big hug and walk her home.

  Chapter 17

  im and Ruth walked down Castro Street from Davies hospital. "I’ve got to hand it to you, Aunt Ruth. You T sure know how to keep a secret. I can’t believe you’ve kept all that inside you for so many years."

  Ruth nodded, more to herself than to her nephew. "I’ve gotten so used to the way things were that I rarely think about how they got that way. You know me. I try to live in the present.

  And when you stick with a story long enough it starts to feel like the truth. I’m so sorry that it had to come out like this."

  "I’m sorry I called her a bastard… but not the other things.

  Ruth patted him on the arm. "It’s understandable. After you’ve endured her insults for so many years."

  "You know, as hard as I try…" Tim started.

  "What is it, dear?"

  "I’m sorry, but as hard as I try to muster up some sympathy for my ‘cousin’ Dianne and her medical problems; what I honestly feel is relief."

  "Relief?"

  "She isn’t related to me by even one single drop of blood."

  "Oh, Tim—"

  "Or to you either." Tim stopped and hugged her. "To be honest, I was growing a bit jealous ever since she came to the city. I didn’t want to lose being your favorite."

  "Honey, I raised Dianne as best I could and I’ve called her my own for so many years there’s no erasing that. We’ll always have some history, but the real connection I have is with you."

  "Maybe her birth mother will part with a kidney… or one of her kids," Tim said, "if Dianne will accept a kidney from a Jewish person."

  Someone called their names from the window of a Yellow Cab. "Where are you two going?" The taxi pulled up beside them and Adam got out.

  "Hey, Adam. I’m walking my Aunt Ruth back home from the hospital. What are you up to?"

  "I’m on my way to the hospital to pay Dianne a visit.

  Sam wanted to come, but he’s tied up with work. He asked me to stop by in his place, since I’m in San Francisco. He hoped I could catch you, Ruth. He sends his love."

  "Where’s Alexandra?" Tim asked. He still didn’t know whether Sam had told Ruth about Adam, but there had been enough confessions for one day.

  "When I left the hotel she was just getting out of bed.

  We’re staying at the Ritz Carlton. She wants to do some shopping before we fly back to L.A. tonight. How is Dianne?"

  "She should be resting comfortably by now," Ruth said.

  "How nice of you to come by, but there’s no sense in trying to see her right now. The nurse just gave her something to help her sl
eep."

  "Well, I promised Alex I’d meet her for lunch if I got back in time. Oh good, here’s another cab," Adam waved to a Luxor driver who made a u-turn. "We’ll see you both soon, I hope."

  "Give our regards to Alex, okay?" Tim waved.

  "Have a nice lunch!" Ruth shouted to Adam as he climbed into the taxi. "What a charming young man, don’t you think so, Tim?"

  "Yes, very…"

  "How nice of him to come and see about Dianne," Ruth said. "I mean, she hasn’t been very nice to him, either… of course, it’s not like she was family to him, whether I was her birth mother or not…and she can be such a nasty racist, too."

  Tim thought that was an odd thing to say about family.

  Now he was really curious as to how much Sam had told her.

  When Ruth and Sam got married, Adam would become her stepson, definitely "family," as far as Ruth was concerned, as well as Tim’s "step-cousin?" He wasn’t sure what to call that.

  Tim liked the idea of being related to Adam a lot more than being related to Dianne.

  They crossed Market Street and continued south toward Cliff’s Variety. Ruth dropped a dollar in the case of an accordion player who entertained the pigeons in the plaza outside Twin Peaks bar. The sun dissipated the patchy clouds overhead; a beautiful day was in store. Tim noticed Patrick at the bulletin board beside the entrance to the Castro Theatre parking lot. He turned his head to the right, as if he recognized a friend across the street, but Patrick saw them, too. "Hiya, Tim! Hey, Tim’s Aunt Ruth! Remember me?"

  "Hello Patrick," Ruth said with a smile. "Of course I remember you. You’re looking well."

  "Are you posting flyers for your E.T. project?" Tim asked Patrick and started to explain to Ruth, "He’s involved with helping people stay off crystal—"

  "No, these are pictures of my missing friend Darryl.

  Remember when I saw you in the park I told you he went to Santa Barbara, but when I didn’t hear from him after he should have gotten back, I called down there and they told me he never showed up for his grandmother’s funeral. His family acted kind of like they didn’t expect him, anyway. I guess they got used to him being a flake. Still, I know he’s not like that anymore. He’s responsible, now. We both have a new way of life now that we’re clean and sober."

  Ruth peered at one of the flyers. "I’m afraid I’ve never seen your friend. Is this a recent picture?"

  "About a month ago," Patrick said. "It was the best I could find. He shaved his head since then. There in the picture it’s just really short with sort of a Mohawk. His moustache is usually longer than that, and you almost never see him without a tiny gold hoop earring through his right nostril, but for some reason he wasn’t wearing it when that picture was taken.

  Anybody who saw this would recognize him, though. He has the most beautiful green eyes! I just went by Arts but they weren’t open yet. Tim, could you take a couple of these flyers and put them up there for me later?"

  "I’ll be glad to do it, " Ruth said. "I was planning to stop in there later and have a look at the schedule anyway. Now that Artie’s back is better I’m not sure whether he still needs me at all anymore. He’s probably forgotten all about me."

  "I’m sure he wouldn’t do that," Patrick said. "Everybody loves to come in when you’re working. It’s like buying drinks from your Mom if your Mom was cool."

  "Thank you. I’m sure you mean that as a compliment."

  "You bet. You know… the cops gave me all kinds of grief when I tried to file a missing person’s report, since Darryl was from L.A. and a recovering addict and all, but they finally took down the information when I found a gay cop to talk to. I don’t think they’ll give his case much priority, though. One less druggie—clean or not—is good news for the police department.

  That’s why I’m putting up these flyers.

  "How did it go the other night in Collingwood Park?

  Wasn’t it Saturday night when you were handing out those E.T.

  flyers?"

  "It was really cold out, so it was pretty slow. The fog was so thick there was hardly anybody on the streets after the bars closed. The homeless people we saw weren’t tweakers, for the most part. Their drug of choice is usually alcohol. If they want to talk, we will. I mean, we can direct them to a shelter or something, but we’re mostly looking for speed freaks."

  "That was the night you raced back from Tahoe to the hospital," Tim said to Ruth.

  "Oh, that was a cold one," Ruth agreed. "You had Nick to keep you warm."

  Patrick said, "Yeah, there were a few people walking their dogs and a handful of die-hards out cruising, but hardly any tweakers. With Delano’s open all night and Walgreens too, there are usually people out at all hours, but that fog got so thick you could hardly see across the street."

  "That reminds me—" Tim started to say.

  But Patrick wasn’t finished talking and there was no stopping him. "I’d rather be south of Market on nights like that, where there’s some action. They don’t like us hanging out in the doorway of Delano’s, but sometimes that’s the only place to keep warm. Well, I’d better get going. Darryl could be anywhere. I just hope he’s not using again. I still have to hit the Tenderloin and Polk Street with these flyers, but thanks for putting one up at Arts for me, Ruth. If you see Darryl, please call me or else call that number and tell him I’m looking for him, okay? We all are. Bye."

  Patrick continued north while Ruth and Tim walked on to the corner where they crossed 18th Street. "I need to stop at Walgreens and see if my prescription is ready. You don’t need to wait for me unless you want to."

  "I’ll run along home, then. I’m sure I’ll have tons of mail to sort through—mostly bills—and plants to water. I haven’t checked my e-mail all weekend. Thanks for walking me to the hospital, sweetheart."

  "No problem," Tim said. One of the same flyers Patrick was handing out had been taped up inside the window of Walgreens. "I hope Patrick finds his friend Darryl."

  "Me, too," Ruth said. She never imagined for a minute that she would be the one to find him first.

  Chapter 18

  oo-hoo! Ruthie… anybody home?" Teresa found her neighbor’s door standing wide open so she stuck

  “Y her head inside and hollered down the hallway.

  "Come on in. I’m in the kitchen."

  "Did you know that your door was wide op… oh…

  sorry… I didn’t know you were on the phone."

  "It’s okay… I’ve been on hold for hours! Come in and sit down. Do you want some coffee? I’ll put on a fresh pot. I’ve been trying to call my ex in Minneapolis and I’m not having much luck getting through at his office. You’d think we were still married."

  "No thanks, hon. I’ve had it up to here with coffee, already. I just wondered why your door was wide open. Where’s the kitty cat?"

  "I don’t know. That’s why I left the door open. I’m hoping he’ll come back. I just got home a little while ago and the minute I walked inside he took off between my legs like a bolt of lightening. Then he squeezed through the gate and ran off down the hill. Poor Bartholomew! He’s been so miserable lately."

  "Well, he was as sweet as could be when he stayed up at my place those couple of nights you and Sam were away. I wonder what’s gotten into him."

  "I suppose he’s mad at me for leaving him alone. You know how cats are."

  "Yes indeed, they have major abandonment issues… or is that dogs? We had a dog once when I was a little girl in Seattle that…"

  Ruth held up the palm of her hand to interrupt Teresa and then she spoke into the telephone again, "Yes, I’m still here.

  Yes, I can continue holding. Yes, I’m… No, I didn’t… Excuse me? No, I am trying to reach Dan Taylor. This is his ex-wife, Ruth. Someone told me he was in a meeting, but that it was about to wrap up and that I should stay on the… Yes, I’ll hold."

  Ruth poured herself a cup of cold coffee and put it in the microwave. "I won’t make a fresh pot if you’re not havin
g any.

  I’ll just reheat some of this; it can’t be that bad. By the way, thanks for taking care of Bart on short notice."

  "Any time," Teresa reassured her. "I just wonder where he’s gone off to now."

  "He spent the whole night right inside the back door and this morning he wouldn’t eat a thing. I carried him with me to the living room, but as soon as I sat down he jumped out of my arms and ran back to the kitchen. Dianne’s things are still in the front so I suppose he can smell her scent. I’ve never known a cat to dislike anyone so much. It makes me wonder what kind of awful things she’s been doing to him when I’m not around."

  "My mother always says cats are even better judges of character than dogs. I was kind of glad to have Bartholomew at my house while Peter was there. When I watched Peter pick him up real gentle-like and rub his belly it gave me a good feeling about the man. And Bart just purred and stretched out on his lap like an old hooker…"