The Beloved Son

by Jay Quinn

“Sounds good,” Karl answered heartily. He pushed back his chair to stand, but Sven motioned for him to sit.

  “We’re going to the club for dinner,” Annike said cheerfully.

  “Mom, try to get a little rest this afternoon,” Sven urged gently.

  “She has no choice now that you’ve doped her up,” Frank said, and without standing, he held up his plate toward Sven, who leaned across the counter to take it. He placed the plate in the dishwasher and walked around the counter to put his arm over his father’s shoulders. He gave him a quick hug, and Karl watched as Frank awkwardly patted his arm in reply. Evidently, there were no hard feelings, despite Frank’s irascibility.

  “Call me if you need me,” Sven said to no one in particular, and with that, he left.

  Karl waited until he heard the front door close behind his brother, then said, “Aren’t you a little hard on him, Dad?”

  “Have to be,” Frank said, and pushed back his chair. He stood up and said, “Can I get you another beer?”

  Karl lifted his nearly empty bottle of Budweiser and said, “Sounds good. But why do you feel you have to be so hard on Sven?”

  “He always has been,” Annike interrupted.

  “Forty was too old to have another child,’’ Frank said from the refrigerator. “He came along when my life was at its height. I was working my ass off already, and then the opportunity to work for IBM came along and that consumed me.” Offhandedly he added, “I’ve often wondered if he’s really my kid.”

  Annike touched Karl’s hand and rolled her eyes at that. Karl gave her a wink in reply. He understood his father’s irritability, but he hadn’t realized how badly he took out his frustrations on Sven.

  Frank strode back to the table, twisted the caps off the beer bottles, and handed one to Karl. “In any event, Sven was your mother’s toy. She’s been entranced with him for forty years, much to his own detriment. I gave up a long time ago.” Heavily, Frank sank back into his chair at the table.

  “Frank, may I please have my cigarette?” Annike asked gently, then turned to Karl and said, “I am allowed three a day. I’ve lived long enough to rediscover my vices.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” Frank said, and got to his feet once more. He stepped into the kitchen and reached high to the top shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets, retrieving a pack of Benson & Hedges 100s. Karl watched as he drew one from the pack and returned it to the top shelf.

  “He’s afraid I’ll burn the house down,” Annike explained to her son. “He keeps them where he thinks I can’t reach them, but I’m not so crazy that I can’t drag a chair over there and get one for myself if I like.”

  “You are not crazy,” Frank said adamantly as he returned to the table and handed her the cigarette. He fished in his pants pocket and found a yellow Bic lighter. Annike placed the cigarette between her lips, and Frank lit the cigarette with a flourish and a slight bow.

  Annike inhaled the cigarette with obvious pleasure and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Coyly, she looked at Frank and winked. In response, he tenderly placed his palm against her cheek and then returned to his chair to sit.

  Karl noted his father’s courtliness with a smile. Throughout his childhood, he had been aware that his father adored his mother. He had always treated her as a porcelain doll, opening doors for her, lighting her cigarettes, holding her chair out for her at the table. Though Karl had never thought much about it before, these were courtesies that he extended to his own wife. Frank had been a role model in a thousand effortless ways. Karl recognized this now, sitting in the company of his parents after lunch, and he found himself missing Caroline acutely.

  “Frank finds it easy to blame all of Sven’s shortcomings on me,” Annike said as she delicately ran the burning end of her cigarette around the inside of the ashtray. “He thinks I spoiled him and made him the way he is.”

  “And how is he?” Karl asked bluntly. “He’s successful, he’s in good shape, and he seems devoted to the both of you. His personal life is his own business.”

  “I could stand a little less devotion,” Frank told him dismissively. “And as for his personal life, I worry about him. He invested himself in another man, and now he and that man are thinking of calling it quits. Sven’s middle-aged, and except for that stupid dog of his, he has no one. If he’s devoted to us, who’s going to be devoted to him when he gets to be our age?”

  “I do not believe Rob is gone for good,” Annike said once more. “He is just a cette age, all men go through it. Even you,” she said to Frank and thumped her cigarette decisively against the rim of the ashtray.

  “Let’s not dig up ancient history, Annike,” Frank said evenly. “I worry about Sven, and that’s a fact. I’ll admit he’s made a real go of that store of his, but…”

  “Sven will be okay, Dad,” Karl said, and took a swig of his beer.

  Frank grunted in reply and turned his attention to his own beer.

  Karl looked at his mother. She sat with her back perfectly straight, inches away from the back of her chair. She held her cigarette elegantly and slowly turned to meet his eyes with a look that said she agreed with him totally. Karl was struck by how pretty she was still, despite the toll time had taken on what had been a very remarkable, self-contained beauty.

  Annike lifted her free hand and placed it over Karl’s forearm resting on the table. “You look tired, Son. Did you have to get up very early to make your flight?”

  Karl set down his beer and laid his hand over his mother’s. “Not so very early, Mom. How about you? Are you well? You still are very beautiful.”

  Annike laughed and withdrew her hand. She shook her hair, worn straight and cut in an abrupt line halfway between her shoulders and chin. He could see in her the shadow of a much younger woman’s self-regard. “I am hardly beautiful, but you are sweet for thinking so,” she said cheerfully.

  “Are you well?” Karl asked again, more urgently this time.

  Annike looked away and took a studied drag off her cigarette.

  Frank answered for her. “Your mother is having some problems, Son. But it isn’t anything we can’t handle, is it, sweetheart?”

  Annike looked down and carefully put out her cigarette. She looked up at Karl through her lashes and said, “I’m fine now. I have to take some medicine, but my health is good—far better than many women I know who have to take all kinds of pills. It is just a fact of old age, isn’t it, Frank?”

  “That’s right,” he replied, and returned her look with a haunted smile.

  With careful dignity, Annike stood and placed her hand on Karl’s shoulder. “What time is it, dear?” she asked Frank.

  Consulting his watch, Frank responded, “Two-twenty-five.”

  Annike squeezed Karl’s shoulder and said to his upturned face, “Our dinner reservations are for six. We old people eat early, you know. Now I must excuse myself. I nap these days, like a fat cat in the sun.”

  Karl reached up to squeeze his mother’s hand. “Sleep well, Mom. I’ll be here when you get up. Then we’ll have a nice evening at the club. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Annike nodded, then looked at Frank and said, “Wake me by four-thirty, please.”

  “Sure thing,” Frank said and smiled at her.

  Annike bent and kissed the top of Karl’s head, then turned and left the breakfast nook.

  Karl watched her walk away, as self-possessed as ever. When he turned to look at his father, he was surprised to find Frank had buried his face in his hands. As Karl watched, his father rubbed his eyes and lifted his head to look at his son.

  Frank pushed back his chair and stood slowly. “Bring your beer and let’s go outside,” he said with a note of false cheer. “I have something new to show you.”

  Karl stood, clutching his beer, and waited for his father to make his way outside to the lanai. Following along behind him, he took in the familiar sight of the pool and scattered lawn furniture. Something seemed very wrong with the view. “The pool enclosure is gone!�
��’ he exclaimed.

  His father looked overhead and then stepped around the pool, motioning for Karl to follow him. “The last hurricane took it. The homeowners’ insurance didn’t cover it, and the screen company wanted twenty-five thousand to replace it. I said to hell with it. I actually like it better open to the sky like this.”

  Karl stood in the bright afternoon sunshine and couldn’t disagree. Without the screened pool enclosure, the entire yard looked bigger. “I think you’re right, Dad,” he said.

  Frank continued to walk away, deeper into the yard. “I can’t offer you any oranges,” he said sadly. “It was a sorry crop this year, and they were mostly gone by February.”

  Karl looked at the gnarled trunks of the orange trees that had once been such a source of pleasure, especially when they had first moved down from up north. He could still taste the sun-warmed fruit in this familiar place.

  “They’re dying,” Frank said as he stopped and lingered under one of the trees. “Their life expectancy is really only twenty-five years or so for bearing fruit.” He ran his hand appreciatively over the trunk of the tree. “Our landscape guy’s been at me to cut them down and get some more growing,” Frank said tiredly. “But they’re like old friends. I can’t just kill them. Besides, I’m too old to wait for a new bunch of saplings to get established and start bearing fruit. Hell, I’d be too old to gum them by then.”

  Karl found he had nothing to say. He simply looked at his father, who smiled back at him. Karl nodded and took a swallow of his beer.

  Frank turned and walked from under the orange tree to a smaller tree, really a large bush, growing in a well-groomed corner of the yard. It was hung all over with tangerines, ripe and deliciously sweet-smelling. Frank pulled a few branches back to show off its fruit. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  Karl looked at the tree and nodded appreciatively.

  “I planted this four years ago. My old buddy John Knight and his wife, Linda, gave it to us for Christmas.” His father stooped and searched among the fruit before plucking two tangerines from a branch. “John died four months ago,” he added bluntly. He extended a tangerine to Karl, then eagerly scored his own with his thumbnail. As he began to peel the ripe fruit, he said, “Your mother’s sick, Son.”

  This, without preamble, took Karl off guard. Though he knew the essential facts, he wasn’t quite ready for this. For lack of anything better to do, he looked at his father and watched him peel away at his tangerine.

  “She’s been through a whole bunch of tests. This specialist, that one, even one down in Miami. The long and short of it is, she’s losing her mind. It’s organic,’’ he said helplessly, as if the word explained everything.

  “What can they do?” Karl said evenly, aware of the weight of the fruit in his hand.

  His father dropped the long curl of peel from the tangerine and kicked it under the tree carelessly. He split the tangerine in half and placed one half on the flat of his hand. He pointed carefully to an area of its surface and said, “Something’s gone wrong in her brain, a piece is dying in this region right here,” he said. “There isn’t anything they can do. There are pills she takes, but that’s just to keep her from slipping into these fugue states where she forgets what’s what.” Frank searched his son’s eyes before he continued. “Like when she set the table for lunch—in her mind, she knows what she’s supposed to be doing, but then it misfires and you end up with an egg timer and a spatula instead of a knife and fork. Right idea, wrong drawer.”

  Unable to offer anything, Karl gulped half his beer, then simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “Son, it’s going to get a lot worse, and it won’t take long. All I have to tell you is that how she is right now… well, it’s going to be as good as it gets. If you have anything to say to your mother, make sure you say it on this trip. You understand?” Frank added pleadingly.

  “I understand, Dad,” Karl said comfortingly. “How about you? How are you doing with this?”

  Frank looked at him and then away. He scanned the yard and then looked at the tangerine half still resting in his palm. With surprising force, he threw both halves across the yard, one after the other. “I’m mad as hell, Son,” Frank said angrily. “And there isn’t a fucking thing I can do to make it right.”

  Karl put his own tangerine in his jeans pocket and reached out to touch his father’s arm, but the old man turned and walked away. Karl hesitated and then followed him to the opposite corner of the yard, where he had stopped and was now studying the ripening globes of coconut high in a tree. Karl stopped next to him and simply waited.

  Frank sighed and looked at his son. “There are some things I can do. I’m going to need… your mom’s going to need help. Sven… well, I give him a hard time, but he’s been a big help. Pretty soon your mom’s going to need a lot more help than he can give her.”

  “So what are you going to do, Dad?” Karl asked, careful lest he sound either condescending or contentious.

  “Have you ever heard of a continuing-care retirement community?” Frank asked eagerly.

  “I understand the concept of places like that, Dad, yes,” Karl said carefully and then finished his beer. “But I’ll admit, I don’t know how they work. I just know you sort of have a buy-in fee, and then they agree to look after you until you die, right?”

  Frank chuckled. “Well, that’s pretty much it. There’s a place called Palladian Gardens a few miles out west that I’ve checked out. It’s not cheap, but they have a facility where your mom can be properly looked after if anything happens to me, for as long as she lives.”

  “Tell me about it,” Karl urged his father.

  “Well, it’s going to eat the hell out of your inheritance,” Frank said.

  “Dad,” Karl said patiently, “your money is there to take care of you and Mom as long as you live. I don’t give a damn if you spend your last cent when you draw your last breath. What’s yours wasn’t ever mine to begin with.”

  “Do you really feel that way?” his father asked.

  “Of course,” Karl said adamantly. “You forget. I’m only about thirteen years from retiring myself. I’ve bought Caro and myself a town house we can grow old in. If the future holds any surprises like… like this thing with Mom, well, I have other plans that take that into consideration as well, but I never counted on anything from you to make that happen.”

  “Good boy,” his father said, and began to stroll back toward the house.

  “Do you have enough, Dad? Do you need any help?” Karl asked as he walked beside him.

  Lifting his arm and gesturing around him, Frank replied, “All this is worth a lot more than you think, Son. Between my retirement, my investments in IBM and some other stock, and what this house will bring, there will be plenty. I won’t be a burden on my children,” Frank ended resolutely.

  “You would never be a burden, Dad,” Karl said genuinely.

  Frank laughed. “You say that now. I’ve changed your shitty diapers, but I won’t have you changing mine.”

  When they reached the far side of the pool, Frank eased himself into one of the chaise longues and motioned for Karl to do the same. Gratefully, Karl sank down onto a chaise and lifted his feet to rest, as his father had. The afternoon’s warmth was comforting, not uncomfortable. He set his beer bottle on the pool deck, leaned back, and folded his arms over his head. “Dad, how soon do you plan to buy into this Palladian place?”

  “Palladian Gardens,” his father corrected. “They have a unit available in sixty days. A nice little one-bedroom that’ll be plenty big for your mom and me for as long as she can stay with me. I’m taking you to lunch there tomorrow so you can see the place for yourself. I want you to understand what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.”

  “Do you think you’ll be happy there?” Karl pressed his father.

  “Happy is something you look for when you’re young, Karl,” Frank said easily. He waited and studied the clouds as they sailed overhead. “We’ll be comfort
able, and your mother will be safe. That’s as good as it gets at eighty, Son.”

  Karl watched his father as Frank peered into the sky for many minutes and considered the resignation his father had revealed. “What does Sven think about this move, Dad?” Karl asked finally.

  Frank snorted. “He’s been trying to get me to sell out and move into one of these retirement communities for a couple of years. I didn’t pay him any mind. It wasn’t until your mom forgot how to speak English that I started thinking about it seriously.” He yawned comfortably and stretched easily in the sunshine. “Once I realized your mom was going to need help beyond the cleaning lady, and beyond making sure she takes her medicine and doesn’t get lost on the way home from the grocery store, well… I ran the numbers, Karl. It makes sense.”

  “Is it very expensive?” Karl asked, not sure how far he should pry.

  “The longer you wait, the more expensive it gets,” his father said. “To tell you the truth, when you take into account groceries, the maid, the lawn service, the pool guy, the taxes, it’s a wash.”

  “Well, there’s the social aspect of it as well, Dad. You’ll be around a lot of other folks and not here all by yourselves,” Karl offered encouragingly.

  Frank chuckled. “When you get to be my age, boy, there are a lot more hens than roosters. I’m not the kind of man who enjoys sitting around gabbing with a bunch of old women.”

  Karl laughed. “Well, there’s an upside to that. Think of all those lonely widows who’ll want to keep you company when Mom’s…”

  Frank cut him off with a sharp glance and a sharply raised hand. “Don’t even say it, Karl. I’ll love that woman as long as I breathe. There’ll never be another one for me.”

  “I’m sorry Dad,” Karl replied, chastened. “I was just kidding around.”

  Frank sighed deeply and sat in silence for a long while. “I wouldn’t wish it on a dog,” he said finally.

  “Wish what, Dad?” Frank asked gently.

  “To lose her while she’s still alive.” Frank rubbed his eyes, and Karl was surprised to see the wetness on his cheekbones shine in the westerning light. “You can’t know how I hate the thought of that, boy.”