He grew quiet until the only sound was the steady pounding of the waves.
“I tried to make it easy on you the day I took off—”
“I remember.”
“I just never got the chance to really explain it to you. And it turned out exactly like I knew it would. Well, maybe not exactly, but the movie still makes money, keeps me working and if you want to really look hard at it, it’s why I’m able to keep Grandpa at Golden Hills.”
“I know.”
He reached for her hand. “Don’t you work today?”
“I called in. Besides, I’m thinking about applying to Golden Hills. It seems like a nicer place to work, like you’re respected for what you do. That’s why I’m looking at places to rent closer to Burbank.”
“MAA MA—”
The baby signaled the official start to the day. Tina thought about how torn Eddie must have been between what he wanted to do and what he thought he should be doing. Had he stayed, had he not followed through on his ambitions, life would have taken a dark spin, she feared.
She rescued Joshua who was standing up in his crib, calculating a way to climb over the railing.
“So, little man, are you ready to look for a new place to live?”
Joshua squealed in delight and chewed on his teething ring with all four teeth—two top, two bottom—making him appear even more like the cuddliest baby in the universe, as far as Tina was concerned.
The three of them sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal and watching the sky brighten.
thirty five
I missed the meeting. Overslept, damn it! Why didn’t Mamie wake me? She knows how important this project is to the company. Could bring in millions.
Where are my socks? She changed it all around in here, when did we get this new furniture? Pretty classy. Mamie always did go for the more traditional woods, darker, richer. It’s okay, but I prefer blonde wood. Sure hope she didn’t get rid of what we had; that Heywood-Wakefield took me years to pay off.
It’s so dark in here. Ah, there’s the switch.
Now, socks. And underwear. I don’t know why they insist on me wearing this damn thing. It’s hot and bulky. Looks like hell under my jeans. Bunches up in front like I’m some old guy wearing a diaper. Ha. Imagine that. That’ll be the day.
This has to go.
Underwear. Which drawer . . . hey! I’ve been looking for this, my toiletries bag. Now I can shave, too! Toothbrush, paste. I’ll take the whole thing over to the bathroom. A shower would feel great.
I don’t smell any coffee. Mamie must be on her walk.
No underwear. Not one lousy pair. T shirts, nightgowns, no underwear. Oh, socks. Great. At least I got socks.
Man, this room is nice. I could do a better job with the art. Mamie should have hung my Autumn-On-The-Farm. Much better than that crappy sunflower. Looks like a kid drew it with crayons.
I need to sit down. Must have had one too many last night. Think, where were we, Mamie and me? That club around the corner. The play, the British guy, pompous bastard. Didn’t like the woman as she is, had to change her. Wait, it was a bet. Yeah, okay, it’s clear now. We wen to that play, a musical. God, I hate musicals! But, hell, I promised Mamie we’d see a Broadway play. Had to ask her brother Joey which one, he comes up here all the time with the bank. Tells us about riding around in a limousine—a limo!—calls on the Rothchilds. I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t stretching it just to impress his big sister.
I told her no, we can’t get a limo, we’re not the Rothchilds. The ol’ shoe leather express is going to have to do while we’re here. Four days at the Taft set me back a paycheck.
I’d do it again though. What a treat she is. Watching her light up when we first saw Times Square, like a kid at Christmas. Clung to my arm the whole time, it was funny. Have to admit, I’m not too comfortable in big cities either, but she wanted to go to New York City for our honeymoon, and here we are.
Where is she?
Probably getting the paper.
This bed doesn’t look big enough for the two of us. It’s messy. Should be, the way we were tossing around last night. What a wildcat my girl is, who would’ve thought a nice Catholic girl could go like that? She couldn’t get enough.
My Mamie, my bride—
Who the hell is that? She doesn’t have to knock.
Damn insistent.
“I’m coming honey, did you forget your key?”
What the—
“Frank? Oh dear, don’t move. Just stay there until I get help.”
Now, how did she get in? I’m calling the manager. I just have to reach the ph—
“Damn it!”
“Frank, hey, what are you doing? That’s a nasty bump there. What did you trip over? How many fingers do I have up, Frank?”
Who’s this guy? That son-of-a-bitch. I heard about this, perverts that like to crash honeymooners, take pictures.
“Stop pushing, Frank, we’re trying to help you get up.”
They’ve got me under the arms, the two of ‘em, one on each side. I got no pants on and they’re trying to make me stand up. They can’t do this, who are these people?
“Frank. We’re trying to help you.”
“Get out of here.” It has to be more forceful. “Out! Get. Out.”
“He may need something to calm him down,” the little bastard says to the other one, a woman. Looks Spanish. Indian, maybe.
“Let’s get him over to the bed,” she says.
I fight them as hard as I can, but I have to give in. They put me on the bed, the woman goes after something; this guy stays.
“You took off your brief, eh?” he says, and picks it up off the floor.
“Where’s my underwear?”
“We use these instead, Frank. Catch any accidents. Doesn’t look like you had any though. Guess it got too hot for you.”
And then I realize Mamie’s under the sheets, waiting for me. She must have slipped in behind ‘em. I have to help her, protect her.
“Hey! What did you do that for?”
Socked him a good one, right in his jaw.
“Listen, Frank, you have to calm down now—”
The woman’s back. She’s got a needle. There’s no way, they can’t do this to me, it’s my honeymoon.
“I’ll hold his arm.”
“What are you doing?” I don’t want Mamie to see me crying. I’m supposed to protect her, and here are these two thugs holding me down, they won’t let me get to her, at least she’s under the sheets, they can’t see her—
“Ow!”
“Just a pinch, you’ll go back to sleep. We’ll clean you up, Frank, put a new brief on you, okay?”
“Is Mamie all right?”
“She’s fine Frank.”
“My wife. Don’t hurt her.”
“No, no, we won’t, Frank.”
They didn’t see her, she must have wriggled under the covers, waiting until they leave.
“I’m tired.”
“That’s okay, we’re putting you back in. It’s not time to wake up yet, Frank. We’ll let you know when breakfast’s on, don’t you worry.”
Mamie must have called room service. That’s who these guys are, coming up to deliver . . . something. I’m too tired to think about it. I’m climbing under the sheets with my new wife. She’s so quiet. They don’t even know she’s under here. I’m not going to tell them.
“Good night, Frank. We’ll come get you for breakfast.”
This feels good, warm with Mamie under the covers so long.
“You can come out now, honey. Those room service people are awfully pushy.”
thirty six
A house was definitely off the list. The nice ones—eat-in kitchen, two bedrooms, family room, bath and a half, she and Joshua didn’t need much more than that—started at $2500 a month, and they weren’t very nice, shabby to her eye. By the time she and the baby got through their fifth showing —a sixties’ rancher with a hole in the master bedroom wa
ll covered by a sheet of cardboard (“the owner needed access to electrical work”) and the place smelling like garlic, wet dog, and potpourri—Tina wanted to lie on a couch and curl up in a fetal position. For a state that was bankrupt and a housing market that went bust, finding a decent home—in her definition, nicely maintained, no holes in the wall, and access to a daycare, a grocery store, and Grandpa—proved to be far more challenging than she had thought.
She did like it here. Burbank reminded her of Lebanon, on a grander scale. There were families here; little kids, a sprinkling of teenagers.
“This is a great neighborhood,” the realtor told her. “Lots of rentals. You see that two-story over there? Post-college kids, eight of them. Doing what every young kid does when they come out here: giving it a year or two to make it in Hollywood. I rented that place to them, it’s a big one. Six bedrooms. But there are eight, you know, so long as they can pay the rent—‘four grand,’ she whispered into Tina’s ear—no matter to me who lives there. Seem to be taking good care of the place.”
They stopped to get ice cream before dropping in on Grandpa. It was eighty-two, sunny. Most always bright and sunny, she loved that about southern California. Joshua dipped his spoon into the soft serve, missed his mouth on the first attempt, smeared vanilla on his cheek.
Funny how Grandpa did the same thing. The stroke had left him unable to perform a simple task like lifting a spoon to his mouth and hitting the target, his coordination compromised.
She scraped some ice cream onto the spoon for the baby, but he pushed her hand away and reached for the spoon, already dripping. She tried again and this time, the spoon slipped easily into his mouth. The cold made him shiver. Tina laughed at his dramatics, detecting a bit of Eddie in his furrowed brow and wide-eyed reaction.
Her father’s candidness last night surprised her. She had expected him to dance around the subject of Rosemary, but it poured from him, all that he had been keeping inside, spewing forth. An epic confession.
Poor Grandma and Grandpa: so wounded that they could not acknowledge their daughter’s existence after she had died. It struck her at first as cold, but now she recognized their unwillingness to confront their past as armor, a protection against the searing pain it caused them.
Grandpa remembered Rosemary. When he had heard that moaning in the hospital in the dead of night, he was reliving his helplessness. She pushed the thought aside and studied the listings for apartment complexes. One was two miles from Golden Hills, but quite a trek to the closest day care. She circled it anyway, deciding to drop in before her visit.
The apartment was perfect. Two bedrooms, a spacious living room, large kitchen and dining area, and best of all: hardwood flooring. Tina put a deposit down on it and planned to move that weekend. Eddie needed his space and apparently, his privacy, though she had to admit she enjoyed sharing breakfast with him as the sun rose and the waves splashed onto the beach. But she knew she could return, something she had never known nor felt before she and Grandpa took this trip.
She put Joshua down so he could explore the empty apartment. He followed her to every room. The neighborhood was nice enough, with her building set in among residences with picket fences and roses, manicured lawns and high fences indicating a pool. Even her building had a pool, another plus; Joshua would learn to swim early.
The best part was its location in relation to Golden Hills. On a cool day, she and Joshua could walk the few blocks. She may even be able to bring Grandpa to the apartment sometimes, sit in the courtyard or by the pool. Just because he was confined to a wheelchair didn’t mean he couldn’t get out once in a while.
The baby had found the cabinets. He was taking great joy in opening and closing the doors beneath the sink, totally ignoring the spread of toys she placed on a blanket in the living room. He had his own mind, she could already see that.
Like Eddie.
His confession about Rosemary touched her, how she had followed her big brother everywhere, Eddie switching her shoes in her casket, Grandpa and Grandma’s shut-down after her death. He had never been so forthcoming.
Joshua was banging the doors as if they were cymbals.
“Okay, honey, that’s enough.” She hoisted him on her shoulders, which dissolved any protest he may have registered over the abrupt end to his door-banging pleasure.
Her eyes were wide open now.
She would be raising her child in southern California. As much as she would have liked to entertain the idea of being close to Mom, having her as a back-up, it wouldn’t be fair to expect that of her; she had her own life to live. Besides, it would give her mother a reason to visit them and get out of Lebanon once in awhile. She also decided to forgive her father’s indiscretions. What point would it serve to harbor malice toward him?
She’d stick to her own observations. Eddie had stayed with her at the hospital and he had watched over Joshua. He’d found Grandpa a good home.
He came through for his family, for once in his life.
That’s the story of Eddie she preferred. That man was her father.
“Frank thought he was at The Taft Hotel in New York City on his honeymoon last night.”
James’ eyes crinkled in the corners, though he was trying very hard to impart the information with as much professional demeanor as he could muster. “That’s why he’s got the goose egg on his forehead.”
“She didn’t hit me,” Grandpa said. His eyes were closed, as they were now most of the time, his legs crossed and his back and shoulders straight and tall. Tina thought he looked like the Don ready to greet guests at a daughter’s wedding. Dignified, regal, with bright pink cheeks.
“Why are his cheeks so pink?”
“Niacin, keeps the arteries clear,” James said. “So Frank, can you tell us anything about last night when you and Mamie were at the Taft?”
He opened his eyes. She couldn’t see his pupils.
“The Taft?”
Did he see them? He looked at a corner of the room and she followed his gaze to an empty space in the kitchen, as if he were looking for someone breathing about in there, someone who might help him out with the answer.
James moved in closer. “New York City,” he urged, his hand on Grandpa’s arm.
He was so gentle with him. And graceful. James moved with the elegance of a dancer, his long limbs gliding with the upright carriage of his wide-shouldered torso, his trim waist, power in his legs. She felt the familiar twinge low in her pelvis, knew she looked forward to these visits not only to see her grandfather, but to learn more about James.
“That was our honeymoon,” Grandpa said, his voice wet and low. “What about it?”
“When you fell last night and pulled the phone onto your head, that’s how you got that big goose egg. You told the shabaz on duty that you were trying to call room service because Mamie was hungry.”
Not the slightest hint of mockery could be detected in James’ soothing voice.
“That’s ridiculous. Mamie . . . she’s dead.” He looked at Tina. “Right?”
“Yes, Grandpa. But I know she’s watching over you. She’s watching over all of us.”
Tears sprang to his eyes. “I told her I wanted to go first. That woman never did listen to me.”
James walked Tina and Joshua to the car after Grandpa went down for his afternoon nap. Being with him was so easy that she began to suspect her own judgment. Quincy was easy like this; they’d laugh at the same things, conversation flowed between them. So it felt right to give in to him, it was natural. Whatever the consequences—and she certainly had not expected to become pregnant—she felt, deep in her heart, Quincy would come through.
How could she have been so wrong?
How can you ever be sure?
“He’s slipping, you know. I’d make a rough guess he’s about third stage.” James shuffled his feet as he held her door open.
Her body brushed him as she passed and a waft of citrus and pine invaded her senses.
“Do you think he
’s losing his vision? He seemed to be looking away from us.”
“If anything, maybe peripheral. I don’t know for sure, but when he looks beyond you, that gaze, it’s almost like he’s trying to determine what’s real and what’s not,” James said. “They get caught, these patients, between two worlds.”
“He mentioned something about a conspiracy to me. He said he was glad I got there because he was trying to figure out the conspiracy and where they had taken Mamie.”
“Right. And then he knew Mamie had passed. See? The brain is so mysterious. And this disease is so cruel. Bits and pieces of memory float up and jumble with the present. Like a stew. Along with that, some parts of the brain shut down—lights out! That’s why he can no longer walk. That part of the brain got all gummed up.”
Did Eddie know this? Or did he simply deposit Grandpa in a place where he knew he wouldn’t need to worry about him anymore? Would he be there when Grandpa could no longer swallow or speak? Or would he leave the suffering up to her?
No, she wasn’t going to go there. As fragile as it was, they had reconnected. He had opened his heart to her. He had adored Rosemary, and from his viewpoint, he was the only one who truly understood her. He would not pity her. He wanted her to have all the things a healthy little girl could have: clothing and dolls and sparkling ruby red shoes. He made her happy. Maybe one seriously ill family member was all Eddie could take.
“Has my dad been here lately?”
James dropped his head, answered the asphalt. “Not since registering Frank, no.”
Silence fell between them.
“I need to get back to the home. I’m cooking tonight.” James’ gaze returned.
How she loved his green eyes next to that caramel skin. It gave him almost a supernatural appearance. Uh-oh. Too much exposure to Eddie’s world.
“When he wakes up, tell him we were here, okay? And give him a hug from me.”
His hand closed over hers. “Tina, I’ll be with you every step of the way. It’s my job. But over the past few weeks, getting to know you, the little man there, well—it’s become more personal. We’re not supposed to get too close, makes it harder to say good-bye, but I feel something. I did the moment I met you.”
Twice a Child Page 18
