Epilogue
Upon this writing, we are a family of five, a new arrival coming this evening. It happened at exactly seven thirty-five. Krupsky delivered a nine pound, four ounce baby with lungs the size of pontoons. Muller fainted and landed on Krupsky’s foot. As soon as she could, Emma moved in with blankets, wrapping the baby in one and throwing the other over Muller. A round of applause came from the living room. The lovebirds sang and Otis sounded like he was choking on a peanut. Then Krupsky came out with Emma holding our new bundle of joy. “Congratulations, Sam,” Krupsky said. “You must be very proud. Gather round, folks. He’s a healthy little bubala.”
Margot, Ruby, Otis, and Max crowded around. Frank was sitting on the couch with Iris. He made a nice toast to little Anthony (after Tony Bennett) and Iris put her arms around his neck. “Nice, Frankie,” she said. She looks better now, wearing a silk turban instead of a wig. When Otis almost fell on her, she let out a loud Belfast laugh. Then Krupsky came over and sat next to her. He patted her knee. They’ve become best friends.
Muller appeared, grinning like a chimp. He sat in a chair and Emma put the baby in his arms. He can’t hold Anthony worth a shit, head rolling like a pom-pom, but I’m proud of him for being more than a cumquat using an oxygen tank for a security blanket.
Riley and Pam popped over with the kids. When Emma took little Anthony back to Judy, Krupsky raised his glass, saying this was how life should be. “To your family, Sam,” he said. His eyes glistened. Everyone raised their glasses, too. Even Bisquick seemed to understand what was happening. He stopped hurling invectives at Meek and Beek and sat on Margot’s shoulder.
Krupsky is standing in the middle of the rug now, an unlit cigar in his mouth. “You know, Sam,” he says. “I saw something years ago in Peru. Small village near the Yavari River. A baby was born and the villagers took it down to the river. Wasn’t sure whether they were going to baptize it or drown it. Anyway, they put the baby in this reed basket. Then everyone got in the water, passing the basket from one to the other until they’d all touched it.”
“Why did they do that?” Riley asks.
“Everyone shares responsibility for each child.”
“How wonderful,” Iris says. “Isn’t it, Frankie?”
“We can do the same thing next door,” Riley says. “The pool’s ninety degrees. What do you think, Sam?”
“It’s my first grandchild, Riley,” I said. “Wait til the next one.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Sam,” Muller says.
“So do I, Daddy,” Judy calls from the bedroom.
Next thing I know, we’re heading over to Riley’s with my grandchild all swaddled up. The cabana lights go on, sombreros come out, and the girls start cutting holes in the Mexican towels for ponchos. Krupsky goes into the water, wearing a headdress left over from the Mardi Gras party. He stands there solemnly as Mary brings Anthony down to the shallow end. Frank and Iris are by the diving board, taking pictures. Then Muller comes through the gate with Judy. She’s dressed in a white night gown, looking weak but beautiful. Muller’s wrapped in two yellow beach towels like a toga. They step into the water next to Krupsky. Everyone else is around the sides, ponchos floating, cigars going. Otis slips and goes under. I guess he thinks his cigar is a breathing tube. He keeps blowing out smoke. Max fishes him out and holds his arm. Riley’s daughters light votive candles and line them around the pool. Steam rises, mixing with puffs of cigar smoke.
“Hand me the baby,” Krupsky says. Mary brings over Anthony, silent as a muffin. “This is going to look more like a baptism by a Jew,” he says, “but here goes.” Little Anthony is lowered into the water, letting out the first true scream of astonishment. Then towels are handed across and he’s swaddled in those. “We don’t exactly have a reed basket, so give me that air mattress there,” Krupsky says. “Now Muller, you push the mattress towards Margot. Then each person passes it to the next.”
We get in two rows. Muller pushes the air mattress towards us. I’m down by the diving board. Little Anthony barely moves the whole time. When the mattress comes to me, I take the end and hold onto the diving board with my other hand. “Now what, Krupsky?” I say.
“What do you want? We’re done.”
I lift Anthony up to Frank who stands with tears in his eyes. Otis lets out a whoop, tossing his sombrero in the air, then goes under again. Sombreros fill the air. Emma and the girls give towels to everybody and we head back to the house. Soon, we’re all dressed and dry. Krupsky sits next to Iris, Emma brings around coffee and Mary sets out cups and saucers. I get brandies for everybody. Margot follows me out to the kitchen with Bisquick in hot pursuit. She links her arm in mine and lets out a sigh. “So how does it feel?” she says.
“How does what feel?”
“Being a grandfather, knucklehead.”
“It feels pretty good.”
“Look at them, Sam. Everyone’s over the friggin’ moon out there. I think Bisquick wants to make a move on Meek. That’s the female, right?”
“Doesn’t act like it.”
“Iris looks good.”
“She’s not out of the woods yet.”
Margot pours herself a brandy. “Krups thinks she’s going to make it.”
“It’s Krups now, is it?”
“He’s bringing me to the dance studio next week. Emma wants to babysit Anthony. Loves the little tyke already. Look at her.”
“I thought Iris was his dance partner?”
“Frank doesn’t want her overdoing it. He tell you about my book?”
“It’s selling better than mine.”
“What’s he got you doing next?”
“Nothing. I told him no more grammar books.”
“How’d he take that?”
“Glad, actually. Said he did me a favor closing up shop. Forced me to think for myself.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“I’ve decided I like painting.”
“I could have told you that.”
“How about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you going to keep living with Otis and Ruby?”
“Suits me fine.”
“And the show?”
“I got sponsors up the ying yang.”
“Just stay away from those feminist rallies.”
“Dually noted,” she says. “You’ve got a wonderful family, Sam. You should be thrilled. Are you coming?”
I follow her to the living room and sit on the rug. Everyone’s smiling. Judy has Anthony in her arms, dimples showing. In time, when the nappies start piling up, and the baby monitor blinks in the dark, I hope I’ll make a good grandfather. As Krupsky says, “Life’s a crapshoot, Sam, but at least you filled the cheap seats.” I look at Judy and Mary, sitting there, pleased as punch, and I hope, when I’m passing along a few words of wisdom to my grandson, I’ll believe, like the song says, that each day can be like the first day of spring. I’m not sure that’s a direct lift or not. Let’s just call it a tribute to the great Tony Bennett, my grandson’s namesake.
Did I mention the song’s called If I Ruled the World?
Have a listen. It’s quite good.
Sam Bennett
Grandfather
Acknowledgments
I’d like to extend my thanks and appreciation to Kathryne Hebb, Peter Riva, Nuala Byles, Myna Wallin, and Analisa Denny for all their hard work and unfailing belief that I would stop rewriting eventually.
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You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can't Make It Scuba Dive) Page 26
