by Jay Quinn
“I think she looks like her own sweet self,” Caroline said and yawned.
“Are you getting sleepy on us?” Karl asked lightly.
Caroline ran her fingers through her hair and stretched. “It’s been a long day, but I think I’m good for another couple of hours. But I am glad Sven’s bringing some nibbles. I’m starved.”
“You better save room for the lobster bisque. It smells wonderful,” Karl told her.
“Mom? Dad?” Melanie asked quietly. “How long do the doctors say Grandmere will live?”
Karl sighed and gently told her what Sven had told him. “Maybe as long as fifteen years.”
Melanie shuddered. Caroline and Karl both noticed and glanced at each other. “I don’t know if it’s just because I’m twenty-four, or if I’m just very immature, but I don’t think I could live like that.”
Caroline reached across the sofa and stroked her daughter’s back, much like her daughter stroked the dog. “Mel, life becomes sweeter as you grow older, believe it or not. I think your Grandmere wants to live now as much as she always has. Practicality has nothing to do with it.”
“I agree with your mother,” Karl said. “This morning Mom told me how comforting and satisfying she found simply having a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I think growing older brings its own particular joys in things we take for granted now.”
Melanie simply stroked the dog and said nothing for a while. Finally, she announced, “I’m getting a dog just as soon as I get settled in with Drew.”
With that, Rob appeared with a bottle of wine in one hand and a dog cookie held out temptingly in the other. “Gretchen? Wanna cookie? Good girl wants a cookie?”
Gretchen’s ears pricked up and she was off the sofa in a long, fluid leap. Rob rewarded her with the treat and a pat on the head in passing before he settled himself in the dog’s spot on the sofa and began pouring the wine into their glasses. “I think of her claws on this leather, and it’s like nails on a blackboard,” he said. He refreshed Sven’s waiting glass on the ottoman and set the bottle on the floor. “Sven doesn’t give a damn.”
Gretchen, realizing she had been displaced, scratched at the old, handsome Oriental rug under the dining table and settled herself into a ball there.
“I didn’t know Sven was such a dog lover,’’ Karl admitted.
Rob took a sip of his wine and grinned. “I just thank God he never wanted to adopt a child. He’d begged me for a dog for years, but it never seemed practical, as much as we travel and the hours we were working. But now he’s got Gretchen and he spoils her terribly.”
“I take it you’re not a dog person, then,” Caroline asked slyly.
“If it makes Sven happy, I’m happy,” Rob generously answered.
“If what makes me happy?” Sven asked as he appeared with a platter of cheeses and crackers, plus bowls of cashews and large green olives. He set the food down on the ottoman and slid onto the sofa next to Rob, nudging his shoulder as he did.
Rob looked at him with a feigned blank expression and said, “Why, I have no idea. What makes you happy?”
Sven retrieved his wineglass from the ottoman and laughed. Then, looking at each face around the ottoman as his guests eagerly helped themselves to the food, he said, “Right now—this minute—makes me inordinately happy.”
Rob took a bite of an olive and said, “I’d like to stay tonight, if that’s okay.”
While neither Caroline, Melanie, or Karl appeared to pay any attention, each tensed as everyone waited for Sven’s reply.
“You’re home, you know that,” Sven said easily. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
“Cool,” Rob told him breezily, but the loving look he gave him escaped no one’s attention, least of all Sven’s.
“So, what’s tomorrow’s plan?” Caroline calmly interjected.
“I’m wallpapering my guest bath at the Palm Beach place,” Rob volunteered. “And staying out of Frank’s line of fire.”
Sven laughed and reached for a smear of goat cheese and a water biscuit. “And all of us are supposed to show up at Mom and Dad’s for brunch by eleven,” he said. “Following brunch, we get to pick out what we want from Mom and Dad’s stuff. Sorta like Christmas.”
“Anything we want?” Melanie asked incredulously.
“Pretty much,’’ Sven told her. “The apartment Mom and Dad are moving into is very small. They plan on keeping their bedroom stuff, the breakfast room table and chairs, and their favorite pieces from the sunroom: Dad’s recliner and Mom’s chair and ottoman, the wicker sofa, and the occasional tables. That’s about all they’ve said they wanted.”
Caroline cleared her throat and anxiously took a sip of her wine before she said, “Sven, there’s something I want very much, if you don’t want it.”
“Mom’s desk,” Sven said, and took a bite of his cracker. Through a mouthful, he said, “It’s yours.”
Caroline clapped her hands like a little girl. “Oh, Sven! Are you sure? I know how much it’s worth. There was a picture of one identical to it in a house in the Hamptons m Architectural Digest. I almost died when I saw it in the magazine. I’ve wanted it for my home office so badly.”
Sven smiled at her, and his eyes danced a little. “I knew you would appreciate it and how you’ve admired it for years. I’d rather you have it. That way, if Mel wants it someday, it’ll stay in the family.”
“But I want it now,” Melanie whined. “I adore all that mid-century modern Scandinavian design. Those are the kinds of pieces I want for my apartment with Drew in Manhattan.”
“Sorry, dear,” Caroline said smugly. “Age before beauty.”
“Melanie, there are several other nice mid-century pieces at Mom and Dad’s,” Sven offered. “I’ll tell you what, you take what you want, and Rob and I will help you pick out paint colors, fabrics, and accessories for your place in New York.”
“Really?” Melanie squealed delightedly.
“Absolutely. Once you get moved in we’ll start,” Rob assured her.
“Oh, God.” Karl groaned. “What am I going to do with all the stuff Melanie wants? Where are we going to store it? We downsized to get into our town house and we have no storage at all.”
“Let me worry about that,” Sven offered. “Besides the store, I have warehouse space. And besides, it’ll be cheaper for Mel to use my suppliers and craftsmen down here to get things reupholstered.”
Melanie jumped up and hugged her uncles in turn. “Thank you guys so much!”
“I warn you, though,” Sven told Melanie. “You’ll have to pay for shipping once it’s done.”
“It’s a deal!” Melanie told him before she sat down and helped herself to a handful of cashews.
“Where is your apartment, by the way?” Rob asked her.
“Murray Hill,” Melanie told him. “I can’t remember exactly which street, but it’s between Park and Lexington. Thirty-fifth Street, maybe? Anyway, it’s a small two-bedroom in a doorman building.”
Rob and Sven looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“Are you renting or buying?” Sven asked care fully.
Melanie looked guiltily at her parents. “We’re buying. Drew’s parents gave us the down payment as a pre-wedding gift.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Karl said, not disguising his disapproval.
Caroline placed her hand on his forearm and said gently, “Andrew’s parents are in a position to help them out, dear. I think it’s a very generous gift.”
“Is your name on the mortgage?” Karl asked Melanie directly.
She looked at her father pleadingly and said, “Of course, Dad. It’s a gift to both of us.”
“She’s done very well, Karl,” Sven said smoothly. “It’s a very good investment.”
“I’ll say,” Rob added.
Nonetheless, Karl considered the amount he had been tucking away against the day he knew Melanie would want a wedding. It was by no means near the amount of a down payment on a Manhat
tan apartment. Inwardly, it added to his assumption that things came too easily to his future son-in-law, but he knew better than to voice his misgivings. He looked around the circle of eager faces in Sven’s living room and smiled. “Congratulations, Mel. It sounds like you’re on your way.”
Melanie gave him a relieved grin and took a deep breath. “I have some other news as well.”
Karl looked at his daughter and felt himself tense as if for a short, sharp blow.
“Good news, I hope,” Sven said encouragingly.
“I got a phone call from Sotheby’s. They wanted me to come up for an interview within the next ten days. I’ve got it scheduled for a week from today,” Melanie announced triumphantly.
Rob whistled and remarked, “That is a coup!”
“I’m so excited,” Melanie declared. “Drew is, too. I called him at work to let him know. I’ll fly up early next Friday morning and spend the weekend with him after the interview. Hopefully we’ll have something to celebrate.”
“What will you do if they want you to start right away?” Caroline asked cautiously. “You’re right in the middle of the semester.”
“I have a graduate assistant,” Melanie reminded her mother. “Up til now, there’s not been a lot for him to do, but he’s good, and I’m sure there’s something we can work out.”
“Sotheby’s,” Karl said to no one in particular. The prospect of Melanie’s departure from the town house had always been understood, but now that it was a large step closer to being realized, he felt winded. The image of the USAir flight that had flashed across his window at an impossible speed came to him. After feeling for so long that his life progressed predictably and methodically, it now seemed to accelerate with a force that pushed his back deeper into the sofa’s cushion. His parents’ preparations for the end, Melanie’s race to begin a life of her own, and the anxious stasis of Sven’s life all seemed to have accumulated with a force that overwhelmed him for that moment.
Around Karl the conversation moved on with laughter and loving companionability. Karl fell silent and nursed his wine; the flavor remained bright, but his appreciation of it dimmed. He had stalled, and he wasn’t quite sure how to continue.
10
AT 2:17 KARL woke with a sense of stark terror. The time floated ghostlike on the ceiling over the bed, swimming before his eyes as he struggled out of sleep. He couldn’t remember if he had reminded Sven to call their father at nine to remind him of their mother’s medications. His dreams had been complicated scenes of his father’s helplessness and anger, Sven’s wearied back bent as he scrubbed what looked like bile from his parents’ kitchen floor, while out of sight and out of reach, his mother cried softly and begged in Swedish not to be spanked. Helplessly, he’d searched for Caroline while a phone rang repeatedly with a call he knew to be Melanie from New York.
As he tried to separate the dream from the sweaty reality of being knotted in the covers of Sven’s guest bed, he became aware of a throb in his head and an urgent need to pee. The ceiling image of the time shifted to 2:18 with a digital blink. It was real, he knew he was seeing it, but it took him a minute to realize the time was being projected overhead by the clock at his beside table. He turned his head and was relieved to find Caroline sleeping on her side next to him. With effort, he unknotted himself from the bedcovers and sat up, trying to remember the way to the bathroom.
At last feeling up to the trip, he stood carefully to accommodate his spinning head and made his way out of the room and down the hall to the bath. After softly closing the door behind him, he braced himself for the pam he knew would come with the flip of the light switch. He closed his eyes against the light in anticipation as he flicked the switch. The light permeated his eyelids with a softer glow than he’d expected, and he opened his eyes. The throbbing in his head didn’t worsen, but his headache was real. Self-conscious about making noise in the small house, he pulled down his boxers and sat to pee, feeling immediate relief from that particular item on his list of late-night woes.
He flushed and stood, pulling up his boxers as he got to his feet. A quick search of the medicine cabinet yielded a bottle of Costco aspirin, and he eagerly shook two into his palm and turned on the tap. Not seeing a glass near the sink, he tossed the aspirin into his mouth and dry-swallowed them before he filled his cupped hands with water and drank gratefully. The medicine cabinet’s mirror reflected his wet, haggard face, and the light overhead exaggerated the bluish circles under his eyes. For a moment, he found Sven’s face superimposed on his own.
Wearily, he turned away from that startling image. He turned off the tap and switched off the light, and thought of returning to bed with dread. Despite Caroline’s comforting presence, the bed and unfamiliar room threatened a return of nightmares. He decided instead to go into the kitchen and pour himself a glass of milk to soothe his stomach against the aspirin, and to give himself a few minutes to dispel the dreams that lingered like cobwebs at the edges of his consciousness. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the kitchen.
As he entered, he was startled by a figure sitting at the table in the dark. The kitchen door was open and the cool breeze from outside swept across his bare chest, intensifying his burst of fear.
“Did I wake you?” Sven asked quietly in the dark.
“No, but you scared the hell out of me,” Karl admitted in his softest voice. “I had a bad dream, and a headache, and I needed to pee,” he said to the form of his brother. As his eyes grew used to the dimness, he could make out Sven’s white guinea-T and the brighter parts of his hair. An orange tip moved in the dark and flared briefly. Immediately the smell of cigarette smoke was blown toward him by the incoming breeze. “I thought I’d have a glass of milk,” Karl added.
“Help yourself,” Sven told him. “The glasses are on the shelf next to the refrigerator—can you see them?”
Reluctant to turn on a light, Karl stepped to the refrigerator and opened the door. Immediately he had enough light to find the glasses and pour his milk. Sven got up and held out his own milky glass to Karl expectantly. Karl obliged him by filling his glass before screwing the lid back on and replacing the milk on its shelf. When he closed the refrigerator door and was pitched back into darkness, he was no longer disoriented. He made his way to the kitchen table and sat down opposite his brother. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night, sitting in the dark?” he asked.
“Rob snores,” Sven admitted. “I’ve gotten used to sleeping alone. I never used to notice it.”
Karl heard the clicking of claws move from the dining room into the kitchen and felt Gretchen’s wet nose nudge his wrist as she had done earlier. He stroked the back of her head, and she sat next to him. He could feel her warm breath against his side. “Seems like Gretchen’s up as well,” he told Sven.
Momentarily, a flame lit up Sven’s face as he pulled it toward the tip of another cigarette. “She’ll leave you alone in a moment,” he said and exhaled. “She wants to be near me all the time.”
“When did you start smoking again?” Karl asked him. “I haven’t seen you with a cigarette since I’ve been home.”
Sven chuckled. “I don’t keep them with me. They stay on a shelf here in my kitchen—I hide them from myself like Dad tries to hide Mom’s. I only smoke after meals and if I can’t sleep. It’s very comforting,” he admitted.
“Mom told me the same thing when I caught her sneaking cigarettes yesterday morning,” Karl said.
“Scary, isn’t it?” Sven commented. “We even have the same secret vices. Would you think I was a bitch if I told you I’m glad she’s slipping away?”
Karl answered his stomach’s rumbling with a deep drink of his milk. Sven’s question was more difficult. Finally, he said, “I don’t think you’re a bitch for wanting some of this responsibility off your shoulders.”
Sven sighed and took another hit off his cigarette. “It’s more than that, Karl. You’re different. You got to grow up and go away. I’ve been Mom’s baby for
forty years. You can’t imagine what it’s like having someone with a claim on you like that.”
“No, I can’t say that I can,” Karl told him gently. “It must be…”
“It’s terrible,” Sven interrupted. “All my allegiances are screwed up. I owe Rob more than that. Hell, I owe me more than that.”
“Yes, you do, Sven,” Frank told him with conviction. “It’s time you started putting yourself first. I’m amazed at how much of yourself you give away. I know I’m at the periphery of your life, and I admit I’m pretty self-absorbed—but maybe that gives me some perspective on the situation that you don’t have.”
“Thanks, brother, I need to hear that right now,” Sven said. “It’s just that I think of her, not being understood and sort of lost in herself, and it makes me so sad,” he admitted bleakly. “Rationally, I know there’s nothing I can do anymore, but it’s a habit of a lifetime to be Mom’s…”
“Baby?” Karl finished. “Sven, it’s way past time for you to separate yourself from her. I don’t mean to sound cold, but it’s a little sick, you know? You’re a grown man. Your responsibility to our mother ended a long time ago, as far as being the baby is concerned.”
Sven nodded in the darkness and took a long draw off his cigarette. Absently, he blew smoke rings off toward the refrigerator, “I know that, Karl,” he said finally. “But I’m not so sure that I don’t need some time to just figure out who I am, by myself.”
“Is that what’s keeping you from getting in step with Rob’s plans to expand your business up in New York? Is that what’s keeping you and him apart?” Karl demanded softly.
“I see you’ve been talking with Rbb,” Sven commented dryly, then sighed. “Twenty-six years is a long time to belong to somebody.”
“No, it’s not,” Frank replied, thinking of himself and Caroline. “It’s not something you give up at a time like this. It would be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”
“I know you’re right, Karl,” Sven admitted. “That’s why I’ve come to the decision I have. Do you want to hear it?”
