Cleopatra and Frankenstein(120)

“What?”

“Masturbating,” she says again. “It’s the best sedative, you know. If you’re not sleeping, you need to masturbate more.”

“Please stop saying masturbate,” I say.

“Movie, melatonin, and masturbation,” she says, tapping out the words on my hand with her finger. “Best night’s sleep you’ll ever have.”

*

I catch Levi hiding in the kitchen with a plate of potato salad.

“Ma’s friend Mimi just instructed me to masturbate more,” I say.

“Dad’s cousin Ezra told me he got chlamydia twice last year,” Levi says. “He’s eighty-two.”

“You win,” I say.

“Apparently it’s all over the assisted living facilities. Frisky widows and widowers, you know. He kept asking me if I was using protection.”

“Well, clearly not,” I say.

“Sorry, I was going to tell you about Min and the baby,” he says. “But then Dad died.”

“That’s right,” I say, slapping my forehead. “Dead dad! I forgot!”

Levi gives me a tired eye roll. “Mom gave me an earful about it too. Then she cried and tried to give me money.”

“Did I say congratulations and all that crap yet?”

“Nope.”

I pull Levi in for a hug. “Congratulations,” I say. “And all that crap.”

*

The rabbi is leaving when I tap his elbow gently.

“What would I say?” I ask. “If I wanted to, you know, pray?”

Two of my mother’s synagogue friends eye me jealously from across the room. I would die if anyone overheard this conversation.

“Well, there are books. But you can also just say what’s in your heart. Say what feels right to you.”

“But … where would I even start?”

“Oh, you can start very simple,” he says. “Two of my favorite prayers are ‘Help me’ and ‘Thank you.’”

“Those are prayers?”

“Those are excellent prayers.”

He smiles and begins to retreat, then turns back to me one more time. “You want to know one of my personal favorite prayers?”

“What?”

“Wow,” he says.

*

My mother and I are on the patio, taking in the last warm hour of the day, when Levi comes out.

“Where’s Min?” I ask.

“Napping,” he says. “I think she was overwhelmed by all the Holocaust talk. She’s retreating into sleep.”

“Smart woman,” says my mother.

Levi pulls up a chair next to us and removes a joint from behind his ear. He lights it, takes a long drag, and proffers it toward us.

“Levi Jeremiah Rosenthal,” says my mother. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Ma,” he says as he exhales the smoke. “Come on. Dad’s dead. I’m having a baby. Take a fucking hit.”

“It’s never too late for a first time,” I say and take the joint.

My mother shakes her head and emits what can only be described as a cackle. “First time! Who do you think you’re kidding? When your father and I were in high school we used to smoke pot and make out to Bob Marley records. And it didn’t end there! When I was doing my teacher training and he was on residency, we loved to smoke a little grass in the evenings. How do you think you two were conceived?”

“Gross!” I yell.

“Ma!” says Levi.

My mother takes the joint from me, inhales deeply, and blows a perfect smoke ring. I catch Levi’s eye and raise my eyebrows. We pass it around one more time and watch the sun dip behind the next-door neighbor’s hedges.

“Wow, my baby’s having a baby,” says my mother quietly.

“My mom used to be a baby,” Levi says.

None of us know why we’re laughing.

*

That night I go to my computer and open my email. If Levi can have a kid and Bernie can have an extra chromosome and Mimi can masturbate herself into unconsciousness, I should be able to do this. I ask for help from the air in the room, then open Frank’s email and type one word.

Come.

*

Levi and Min are heading back upstate. The hot food counter, apparently, waits for no man. My mother insists on strapping a pillow around Min’s stomach for the car ride, as though that could protect the baby from all that life will throw at it. We stand in the driveway with our arms around each other as they drive away. I guess that’s what life should feel like; setting off on a long car ride with all your worries and hopes strapped around you, the people who love you most frantically waving you off as you go.

*

I’m looking up how to make a grilled cheese, wondering what the hell I’ve been so busy doing all my life that I never learned this, when the doorbell rings. Frank is standing in the doorway. Ah, here is the man I love, I think. The thought comes so swiftly, so unapologetically, I almost say it aloud. Instead, I say, with an insane level of cheer, “New Jersey welcomes you!”

*

Frank and I pull up two chairs and sit looking out over the garden. The patio furniture is old and partially covered in bird shit. I consider being embarrassed by this, then decide it’s not worth the effort.