They were finishing their breakfast, Grandpa cleaning his plate with a biscuit and draining the last of his coffee, when Joshua let out a loud, shrill shriek and doubled over in the high chair. As Tina lifted him from the seat, shrieking and squirming, a mustard-colored tributary leaked down his bare leg, leaving an acrid odor in the air.
“Stay right here, Grandpa.” She touched his hand, which was again reaching for something in the air before him. She scanned the restaurant to see if she could trust anyone to watch him so she could take care of changing and washing the baby, found a kindly waitress on her way to the restroom, and disappeared inside. Joshua’s forehead felt as if he had been in the sun too long.
He was a mess, and she had only one clean outfit left: a sleeper, which she knew would be too warm as they crossed through the desert. She prayed the Cutlass’s air conditioning continued to work and the Tylenol would soon kick in long enough for her to find a clinic, a hospital, anything that could confirm what she already knew—Joshua’s ear infection had returned and he would need amoxicillin.
And while she was there, she’d ask them to check Grandpa, too.
He was sitting at the counter, chatting with the waitress.
“She doesn’t believe me that we came all the way from Pennsylvania. Tell her, Tina.” It was as if she had run across him at the local diner, shooting the breeze with Karen, the waitress at Mel’s back home, where she’d often meet him and Grandma on her lunch break. His eyes, now clear and focused, fixed on her in full recognition and he sat with a straight back. “Ya know we’re almost to Arizona, girlie?”
The waitress smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Well, not quite yet. Still a ways through this gorgeous state of ours. Your grandpa’s been telling me you’re on your way to Los Angeles.”
Tina shifted Joshua from one hip to the other, growing more anxious to leave as his little body felt like a heating pad. The Tylenol was kicking in. He no longer squirmed and tugged at his ear, but she knew the calm was temporary.
“That’s right.” She tapped Grandpa’s arm. “Thank you for keeping him company. We need our check now, please,” she answered.
“I took care of it,” Frank said.
Tina searched the waitress’s eyes for confirmation.
“Everything but the tip,” she said, lifting her chin slightly, her smile a bit too sunny.
“Oh, right, okay.” Tina threw her purse on a stool, found three dollar bills and handed them to her. “Is there a hospital or medical center nearby?”
“Down the road a ways. Thanks, and have a good trip,” she said, turning her attention to a new customer seated at the counter.
“Let’s go, Grandpa, we’ve got to find a place for Joshua.”
“I wasn’t finished telling her about Eddie. He’s a big deal, you know.”
“You’re finished. Let’s go.”
Rain pelted the windows as they drove along Highway 40, the window wipers flashing sheets of water across the windshield. Tina welcomed the repetition as it lulled both her passengers to sleep, the baby’s head resting on his car seat pillow, Grandpa’s on the back of his seat, his mouth wide open.
Goddamn my dad. If he hadn’t been such an ass—not showing up at his own mother’s funeral—I wouldn’t be here with a sick baby and a confused old man. We could be meeting for dinner, poring over family photos, laughing about Grandma’s little quirks, the way she kept us all informed about Grandpa and the weather and politics.
It had been at least two years since she had last spoken with him. How would she react when they finally caught up with him?
Grandpa’s loud snore rousted her from her thoughts. The rain continued dumping on the highway, the car splitting its path in two. She never saw rain like this, like a waterfall. Grandpa turned his body toward the window and fell back asleep.
What made her grandparents’ marriage different? Sixty years, one son who ran away when responsibility became too great. They weathered illness and surgery and the deaths of their own parents, even the shock of their only granddaughter bringing home a “little brown baby.” Their lives revolved around familiarity: the town in which they both grew up, the barber shop and the grocery store, the nightly news and Grandma’s good cooking, a trip to the beach every summer, and Mass every Sunday. These were the moments of their days, a small universe to move within.
And they were all so happy with that.
The doctor at One Care looked like Sting—Sting with a handlebar moustache and barrel chest. “Intestinal. Been seeing a lot of that. Best thing you can do is push fluids, make sure he gets plenty of sleep, not too much dairy . . . you still nursing?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. That’s all he’ll need, with water, and you could pick up some Pedialyte.”
Joshua squealed as Dr. Sting played with his feet, appearing as if the bug had already vacated his body.
“Doctor, while we’re here, could you take a look at my Grandpa?”
“Nothing wrong with me,” he growled from the corner of the examining room.
Tina insisted he stay with them, even if it meant that Dr. Sting had little room to move in the space left for him with Grandpa’s imposing presence occupying his stool and Tina standing by the exam table. The doctor gave her a questioning look.
“He seems a little . . . forgetful.” How else could she put it?
“Like, how forgetful? His keys, his hat—his name?”
“I know my name! It’s Frank Lillo—” The outburst made him sputter and cough.
“He sort of wanders, especially at night. I think he’s having trouble with figuring out his days and nights.” She chuckled. “I thought it would be the baby.”
Dr. Sting raised an eyebrow and turned his attention to Grandpa who now twirled his hat on his finger, adding a low whistle to the performance. “Sir? Can you tell me your name again?”
Grandpa closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side in disgust. “I know my name for God’s sake, and I just told you.”
“Okay, when were you born, Frank?”
“February third, nineteen twenty-eight.”
“Oh, so you’re coming up on your eightieth.”
“I’m seventy-nine. So is Mamie, ten months behind.”
The doctor looked to Tina for verification.
“Grandma passed away a month ago.”
Now the doctor pulled the sole chair around and faced Grandpa. “Do you know your wife, Mamie, has passed away, sir?” He took Grandpa’s hands in his own.
Grandpa met his eyes. “We’re going to see our son, Eddie. On the West Coast. He’s a big deal, you know.”
Dr. Sting pulled Tina aside when Grandpa excused himself to find a bathroom. They stood in the hallway, a precaution to prevent any wandering.
“I’m not a geriatric expert, but my best guess is that your grandfather may be suffering from a form of dementia. The stress of losing his wife could have kicked it in, or he could have been having episodes while your grandmother was still alive.”
Joshua began to whimper in his baby seat. Tina’s breasts tingled on auto response. She looked around for a seat, but the nearest was out in the lobby, out of sight from the restroom hallway. The baby’s cries grew more forceful. No sign of Grandpa emerging from the bathroom.
“Go have a seat, I’ll make sure he finds you,” Dr. Sting offered.
She gathered the baby and the diaper bag; Joshua pulled at her shirt. “Do you think losing his wife may be the reason he’s not thinking too straight?” Tina moved toward the waiting room.
“He is displaying some hallmarks of dementia—the wandering, the far-away stare—I noticed him reaching for something in the air. It’s a condition that only grows worse, as you well know.”
There, in the sterility of the clinic’s waiting room, Joshua at her breast, her grandfather yet to emerge from the bathroom, a cactus as tall as a man perched outside the window, Tina realized her two choices: turn around right now and go back home, or k
eep going west. Soon, maybe even this time tomorrow if they drove straight through, they would be in LA where they’d find a cheap motel and start searching for Eddie.
The problem with that last choice was she didn’t care if she ever saw Eddie again. She was doing this for her grandfather. Someone had to look out for him. She had no idea what Grandpa hoped to accomplish once they found Eddie. She moved Joshua to her shoulder to burp him, praying he didn’t spew all over his last clean sleeper before she could get to a laundromat. It would be stupid to turn around now and drive all the way back to Pennsylvania; she knew that. But what if Grandpa got worse? What if he somehow got separated from them, wandered off while they were sleeping, got lost? And then there was the question of what to do with him during the day once they settled somewhere and she found a job and daycare for Joshua. Well, hell. If Eddie was such a big deal, as Grandpa said, he could hire someone to look after his own father—where was Grandpa anyway? The baby was nearly done and he still was not back.
A young woman with two young children, both with runny noses and threadbare clothing, appeared at the counter. The woman kept her head down, her long brown hair covering her face. She chattered at the children in Spanish, holding firm to their hands. They stayed riveted to her side. As she approached the receptionist’s window and raised her head to speak, Tina saw that her face, at least the side toward her, had a ragged scar that ran from below her eye to her jaw line. It looked like a worm, for it was raised and angry, embedded in an otherwise flawless cocoa complexion. She spoke rapidly to the receptionist, and Tina recognized the fear in her eyes. The one child tried to squirm away when he spotted a plastic yellow truck and blocks, but his mother yanked him back in line with her, her eyes darting to discover what could have captured his attention.
The mother’s fear unsettled Tina. Her anxiety was palpable, leaving Tina with the idea that she was trying to protect her children from an unforeseen catastrophe. She revisited the thought of turning around and going back to Pennsylvania. She wasn’t even sure if Grandpa would know the difference.
Still, they had come all this way.
As she tucked Joshua back into his carrier, Grandpa’s low whistle drifted over the hum of the waiting room. He was smiling, looking ready to take on a new day: his cap perched at a rakish angle, the ironed seam of his jeans knife sharp, his hands in his pockets.
“You ready, girlie? C’mon, let’s find Eddie. I’m feelin’ like a million bucks.”
They found a Days Inn that advertised laundry facilities just past the sign for Arizona: “The Grand Canyon State Welcomes You.” Tina took advantage of the baby’s dozing throughout the drive, and though she tried to make it to the California border before sundown, she underestimated the drive through Texas. No matter, Eddie didn’t even know they were coming. A sense of freedom washed over her, she had to admit, as if she were driving toward the answer to an unspoken question. As unsettling as it was to regard Grandpa with a wary eye, she knew on some level that she was helping him through his grief. Returning to Pennsylvania, after having made it all this way, would have crushed him. She also knew he would have found another way to find Eddie.
Her father.
When she thought of him, and lately it was nearly all the time—Grandpa chattering on about what a big deal he is, how he must have been wrapped up in a big project and had he broken away to come home for the funeral he would have lost millions— she wished she could be optimistic about Eddie. The truth was Grandpa was lucky to have any acknowledgement from his son for Grandma’s funeral. The vase of roses he had sent to the funeral surpassed his response to Joshua’s birth. She had unearthed one of his business cards from her wallet—Bloody Hell Productions—and had sent a photo of newborn Joshua to his email address. It had taken him over a month to respond and another few days for her to muster the courage to open it. “Make money, you’re going to need it.” No “Love, Dad,” not a single mention of Joshua, his grandson.
Her mother’s response echoed a similar sentiment, but not quite as direct: “You’ll need a job to pay for daycare.”
Where was that business card?
She could see the name, “Bloody Hell Productions,” rendered in dripping blood ink. Did it have an address? Or a P.O. Box? And what did “Bloody Hell Productions” do anyway?
Joshua fussed as she extracted the laundry from the washer and fed quarters into the dryer. She left Grandpa in the room. He had been looking in the phone book under the Ls. She didn’t bother to tell him that Eddie wouldn’t be in an Arizona phone book.
“Hey little one,” Tina cooed to Joshua, whose fever had subsided as quickly as it had come on. “You’re going to have nice clean clothes, yes you are.” She settled onto the bench to hold him in her arms, the smell of the softener and the thump of the clothes against the dryer comforting her enough to allow thoughts of what must happen—as early as tomorrow—enter her mind.
They would need to find a place to live, couple of rooms, an apartment. She needed a job ASAP, daycare for Joshua, Grandpa—
She drew a blank. What would she do about Grandpa?
“Ouch!” The baby’s nursing grew furious, his top teeth scraping an already sore nipple.
“Watch that, Josh! Grandpa’s right about stopping when you get your teeth, jeesh. Could you please be gentler?” The baby fussed and rooted as he found her other breast and latched on with equal gusto.
She would worry about all that stuff tomorrow. Maybe when they did find Eddie, she wouldn’t need to worry about it at all.
twelve
Eddie lay awake, his mind whirling around the last take of the day, working out the details of the accident. He specifically remembered buying the blanks himself, allowing Ricki the freedom to place them with the other props until they were ready to be used. Ricki was a great prop manager. He had no reason to check on her, and she swore she grabbed the only box of bullets available—the blanks he had given her a few days ago.
Still, that chunk of the leading man’s ear that went flying off into the dunes, and that stream of blood accompanying it were real enough. He’d be paying for the plastic surgery now, but even worse, he wouldn’t get the film out in time for the SCREAM awards season unless he rushed editing, and that was out of the question.
He tossed the thin jersey sheet aside and sat at the edge of the bed for a few seconds before rising. His hand automatically checked himself, which only heightened his urgency to piss. He was glad he had no company tonight; he didn’t feel up to his usual level of performance, didn’t want to explain to another wide-eyed hopeful that this bungalow was only temporary, that he’d be moving into Cher’s old place in Malibu after renovations were complete. They believed him every time, and because every time was the first and only time the girls would hear his spiel, Eddie could keep the charm fresh.
He threw on a pair of gym shorts and walked over to the patio window. The full moon cast a bright runway over the black ocean as if an artist had painted a dappled path on the water leading to infinity. He imagined the moment of death to be like this: a clear path for the soul. Thankfully, the actor who lost part of his ear today would not have to walk that path any time soon; just collect the worker’s comp and get a new ear.
His stomach growled. This damn protein diet didn’t fill him the way good ol’ carbs did. God, what he would do for a block of Mom’s lasagna. He opened the freezer and pulled out a Calzone Italiano, Weight Watchers special. It would do. Besides, it had to be three, four in the morning. He had no business eating anything. He pinched his stomach; okay, a little doughy, nothing a few extra crunches wouldn’t take care of.
The moon cast a spotlight on him as he nibbled at the crust, working his tongue over the warm cheese that popped through a crack. He smiled thinking this would have to substitute for any tongue exercises tonight.
He didn’t like hearing the bungalow creak and pop; the sudden noise unnerved him. He started surfing channels, and there it was on Fear Network: The Night Lovers. Eddie shambled ove
r to the desk and pulled out the notebook he kept on the movie’s sightings. No way was he getting cheated out of one dime of royalties; that little cash cow wasn’t dry yet. He’d call his agent, let him know he caught the film on late night programming again, see how much he could squeeze out of the network that thought it was getting away with something.
Ah, there it was, the scene his fans loved: the main vampire, whose body had never been found after his van rolled off an embankment, transforming from teenage bad boy into bloodthirsty demon. It snapped with the same surprise as the day he shot it. Eddie sat in the overstuffed chair chewing the last of his calzone. He started after the other one then decided against it. There was a shoot on the beach later that morning. When it got so damn hot, like it was supposed to, he knew he’d be going shirtless. One more calzone, diet or not, would bloat him—something he couldn’t afford today. He had one chance at Riley Andrews, and that would be today after her big scene where she cheats death in a race to the finish with her evil twin, emerges from a spectacular wreckage—Jesus! Saul better have the explosives ready to rip—and walks, dazed and naked down a leaf-strewn path.
She had been flirting with him throughout the shoot, which took him by surprise. Since Vi left, most of his attentions turned to cranking out another horror-porn. He wanted it—no— he willed it to top The Night Lovers knowing he had to reach a new generation of kiddies who want to see gore and especially titties. Riley, to his amazement, agreed to go stark naked because, as she put it, “it follows naturally that my character’s clothes would be burned off or blown off after a wreck like that!”
Eddie chuckled at her sincerity, her blind adherence to the script (which he had written in five days), calling for “Hayley, stripped of all clothes, now other-worldly, walks away from the wreckage where she has destroyed her maker, her twin brother, Ben, leaving his body, headless, to burn with the car. She is at peace, and she is ravenous for human blood.” He had promised Riley top billing and a full frontal.
Twice a Child Page 6
