I Liked My Life(73)

I direct my first question to Marie. “Can you tell me about your father?”

“I can tell you he was a hell of a lot better than the SOB that raised you.”

I choke on my coffee. “You knew my dad?”

“Only from what Beth’d say.”

“How often did you two talk?”

“Oh, she hunted me down as much as she could, least once a week until I graduated high school.”

So while hiding their existence from me, she advertised my existence to them. I don’t know which of us should be more offended.

“What did she say about my father?”

“She was trapped. I was eleven when Dad died and we became the state’s problem. She bawled like a baby in a wet diaper. Got married about two years after that. Things got worse over time. I know that for sure. Our dad was encouraging of Beth’s free spirit. But yours—what’s-his-name, Bob?—he had a set place for a wife.”

My hands stiffen on my lap. “I wouldn’t say that.” Would I? It’s not as if she wore sunglasses from the lessons Dad taught her. My parents walked around each other, the way Eve and I do sometimes. They didn’t fight; it was more like there was no affiliation between them whatsoever. When my father got home, my mother went quiet. Things stayed perfectly still until he left for work the next day.

Marie brushes my reaction aside. “Who knows? Maybe she carried on about him so we’d feel sorry for her. But she hadda sneak out of the house while he was working to see us because Bob didn’t allow it. We weren’t his problem, far as he could see. Can’t say I disagree there. Never did get why Beth kept on us. I’ll say though, hearing everything she went through with your dad was one of the reasons I never married.”

I have a hard time picturing anyone asking Marie for her hand in marriage, but keep that observation to myself. “When did you see her last?”

“Sheesh. Let’s see. I reckon the last time we saw Beth was two, maybe three years before she died. Right, Paul?” Paul starts to say something but gets cut off by another of Marie’s coughing fits. She waves her hand to move us along like it’s nothing, but it would be like talking over a blow-dryer. When the hacking subsides, the three of us stare at one another in a moment of silence I spend grateful Marie didn’t just drop dead. Then I ask if my mom and Phil were publicly dating.

“Oh sure, they were the real deal. Lot of good that did us. If only they’d married. Then our life would’ve been different.”

We have that in common, to opposite ends. Marie and Paul would’ve had a home growing up, whereas I would’ve been erased completely. “Why didn’t they?”

“Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Depends how you see it. He was Jewish. No shocker there with the last name Goldfarb. His folks were rich, so Dad kept on the right side of them, figuring the inheritance’d be worth it someday. Beth said they called her everything from a street whore to a gold digger. She couldn’t talk about those people without raising her fists like the fight was still going on.”

“Did you get the inheritance?”

Marie scoffs. “You think my fat ass would be planted in this plastic chair if the answer to that was yes? We were bastards in their eyes. My dad never married our mother either. The man never fell in love with a girl from the right goddamn religion. Those crotchety pieces of shit left everything to the synagogue.”

A hostile laugh escapes before Marie’s next cough. The visit will end as soon as I stop asking questions, so I plug along. “Do you know how they met?”

“Beth was our caretaker after Mom died. She was always at the house, cooking, cleaning, hovering over us.”

I’m rapt. Marie is describing a complete stranger. “Can you share a memory?”

“I have a good one,” Paul volunteers more audibly than before. “She bought me a guitar for my fifteenth birthday. First I thought she’d stolen it because she didn’t have that kind of money, but it turned out she’d been taking a couple dollars out of her grocery money every week.” Paul looks down at his lap with a distinct frown. “It was the nicest gift I ever got. Probably still have that thing somewheres.”

Marie smacks her knee. “I’ll be damned. She never got me nothing. That’s Paul for you. Don’t hear a peep out of him all morning, then he comes out with that sweet story. Didn’t know that one myself.” She rises from the lawn chair, careful to pry the armrests from her sides so the chair doesn’t come with her. “Well, it’s been real nice meeting you, but I have to get off to work soon.” I know it’s an excuse. Her shift doesn’t start for two hours.

I stand. “Thanks for agreeing to meet.” There won’t be a second rendezvous and all three of us know it.

“Uh huh.” She guides me to the door.

“Listen, Marie, if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, or just anything you need, here’s my business card.” For whatever reason, my mother cherished these people. Helping them would be a way to honor her memory.

“We don’t need your money, Bradley, but thanks.”

“It’s Brady,” I correct, embarrassing us both.

“Right, right, Brady. That’s what I was thinking just not what I said.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you needed money. I just know you’re ill. That was all I meant.”