An Absent Mind(3)

That was a fiasco. I came home one night and told the kids Roxy had died in her sleep. Actually, she was sick. I forget exactly what she had. The vet asked me if I wanted her put down. I figured it was the right thing to do, and it was. Unfortunately, I left the bill that listed the vet’s services, including the cost of the stuff he used to put her to sleep, on my nightstand, and Joey found it. But that’s another story for another time.

Florence and Bernie—sounds like some kind of bad television show—have two young children of their own. Nice kids, but the jury’s still out on whether they will be like him or like her. Pray for the children!

Joey is a confirmed bachelor. Thirty-five, if I’m not mistaken, and into one thing—money. I swear, if there was a way to get rich from marketing the sweat that drips from my armpits after I wake up from one of those dreadful nightmares of falling into a never-ending black hole, he would be the one to do it. He has more scams going at one time than those guys—what do you call them? The ones who always seem to phone during dinner to sell you something. Anyway, you know who I mean.

Joey’s had a few girlfriends, but they don’t seem to last long. I liked the one with the curly blond hair, but he said she was a gold digger. At least she had big knockers. I like big knockers. Monique has big knockers.

I used to wonder whether Joey might be gay. You don’t blow off a girl with knockers like that because she wants you to buy her a few trinkets. At least I wouldn’t. But he doesn’t look gay, whatever that means. I used to think being gay meant looking swishy, but Rock Hudson certainly didn’t look swishy.

I hope Joey’s not gay. That would be terrible. If I knew that for sure, I would probably never speak to him again. Although I remember back in college finding my girlfriend, Susan, in bed with her roommate, Karen. And I don’t mean just in bed. I mean really in bed, if you know what I mean. And I kind of liked that. So maybe I would talk to him after all.

Joey was supposed to drop by this week, but he always has something going on, always some kind of excuse. He only comes by when he needs money, when his deals aren’t going well. Monique doesn’t get it, because she has never written a check in her life—wouldn’t know how. God, if anything ever happens to me—although I can’t imagine that, given the results of my last physical. Except for the memory bit, the doctor said I’m in great shape.

I sometimes forget where I park my car when I go to the mall. Florence always kids me that I have Mallzheimer’s. But like I said, Dr. Horowitz told me it was normal to lose a little memory, although he did suggest I write things down. I have never written anything down—that’s why I’ve had such a good memory all my life. So I’m way ahead of the game. Even if I lose a bit, I’ll still have more than most men my age.





Joey





The Visit


I went by to see Dad this morning. Frankly, after listening to Mom’s stories, I was a bit concerned. But she’s been known to be a little emotional. Well, that’s kind of an understatement. In fact, sometimes she goes off the deep end for the most ridiculous reasons. I remember coming home from school in the eighth grade with a split lip. She was on the phone to the principal, the police, and the doctor before I even finished telling her what had happened. So I always have to take her “fragility,” shall we say, into account before jumping to conclusions.

According to her, Dad is really losing it. She said he’s forgetful, introverted, and submissive. I don’t know about the forgetful part. I have noticed a few things, but nothing that seemed really worrisome. After all, he is in his seventies. But my dad has never been, and wouldn’t know how to be, introverted or submissive. Those are traits I would save for Mom. In fact, Dad has always been the rock of the family—the disciplinarian, the provider, the powerhouse.

I haven’t been over to the house for a while, what with getting this distributorship thing going. I’ve got the rights for Canada for this rejuvenating cream. It’s got a special herb that they grow in the highlands of Panama, as well as a patented blend of ingredients which, unfortunately, I can’t share with you, as I signed a confidentiality agreement.

In today’s world, everyone is so vain, and they all want to look younger. So this will be a slam dunk. Dad thinks it’s a pyramid scheme and said he doesn’t even want to hear about it. He said I’ll get busted one day, and that will ruin my reputation. My bet is it’s his reputation he’s worried about. But he’d never admit that, and I learned a long time ago that it’s not worth arguing with him, because I can never win.

When I arrived, he was sitting in front of the television set, patting his beloved collie. Ever since he bought that dog a few years ago, it’s like he has three kids, and let me assure you, Dugin is the favorite. Anyway, I yelled out, “Yo Pops,” like I always do, but the only one who acknowledged my presence was Dugin, and that was only with a lazy wag of his tail.

Mom heard the door slam and came in from the kitchen. She gave me one of her pained looks and pointed to Dad, motioning with her hand for me to move over to the couch.

I sat down opposite him and said again, “Yo Pops.” He looked away from the television and gave me a smile. “Hi, Son, what’s happening?” he asked. I told him how my ceiling had almost collapsed from a water leak in the upstairs apartment. He responded, “Great, just great!” Then he was back, staring at the television again. I looked over at Mom. She just shrugged her shoulders and headed back into the kitchen with her I told you so look.