Dream Girl(68)

“Let me take care of it,” Leenie says with what Gerry feels is unearned confidence. So far, Leenie’s off-the-cuff improvisations have been a little too “exit pursued by bear” for him, only it’s more like “exit in insulated freezer bags, body part by body part.”

The landlord is a pale white bald man who looks as if he never stops sweating, no matter the weather. The seams of his blue oxford cloth shirt are damp, and there’s a sheen on his forehead, which he mops with a handkerchief, almost as if he had climbed the twenty-four flights to the apartment.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m worried. Victoria was one of the most responsible tenants I ever had, but she paid only part of the rent in March and now she’s missing. I went by the apartment when she didn’t answer my calls and it seems as if she hasn’t been there for quite some time.”

“I know,” Leenie says. “I was her roommate until I moved in here to provide full-time care for Mr. Andersen.”

“You weren’t on the lease.”

“I had lost a job and Victoria was kind enough to take me in.” Gerry notes that Leenie is avoiding timelines. Good. “We’ve known each other forever. She did this, even back in college. Disappeared at times. She—well, I don’t want to violate her privacy, but sometimes she thinks she knows better than her doctors what she needs. She always comes back, she’s always fine.”

“Have you called her parents?”

Leenie sighs. “Her parents are the last people she would turn to when she’s like this. I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know what to tell Mr. Gerry”—she turns to him—“I’m sorry, I kept hoping she would show up and you would be okay with her continuing in this job again. There’s so much stigma around mental illness. That’s why I told you she had a personal emergency. It’s true, if you think about it.”

It is true and Gerry doesn’t want to think about it. Being bashed in the head with the Hartwell Prize is a very real personal emergency.

The landlord looks concerned, but also confused. “I mean—I have to start eviction proceedings. I can’t not enforce the lease. But she’ll have some time to respond. If she shows up—”

“Fingers crossed,” Leenie says, and she actually holds up her right hand, showing how she has crossed her index and middle finger. Of course, this is also what children do when telling a lie, only with their hands behind their backs.

“I could cover her rent for the month,” Gerry says impulsively.

“Why would you do that?” the landlord asks.

Leenie glares at him, the same question evident in her dark eyes, but less open-ended. You’re acting like a guilty schmoe, she seems to be saying, and he is.

“She’s not here to collect her salary. If I pay the rent for the month, it gives her a chance to come back, regroup. Come May, if she hasn’t returned—then, I guess, you’ll have to pursue eviction.”

And Leenie will have time to go back and check the apartment thoroughly, make sure that Victoria has left nothing behind that can pose a problem. What if she kept a journal? Gerry had always proselytized for journals with his students, showing them the miniature Moleskines he was never without.

He explains his idea to Leenie after the landlord leaves and it takes the edge off her anger.

“She didn’t keep a journal as far as I know and I don’t think I’ll find anything, but okay. It was awfully generous of you to pay the rent.”

Yet something in Leenie’s tone suggests she’s put out by his largesse, by his willingness to expend funds on anything that doesn’t benefit her directly. He can’t help noting how proprietary she seems about his money.

“The thing you said about her, um, mental illness. Was that true?”

“Yes and no. I mean, she did have episodes at school where she disappeared. She’s got a prescription for Lexapro. But almost every-one’s taking something these days.”

“What will happen to her things?” Gerry asks. “Eventually, I mean.”

“If she doesn’t come back to get them, the landlord will probably just put them in the street.”

If? Is Leenie beginning to believe her own lies?

“Now can we get back to workshopping?”





April 15




FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE, Gerry files for an extension on his taxes, which depresses him. But at least he knows the date for once because his accountant has emailed him the forms he needs to fill out and file electronically.

Although Gerry has an accountant, he refuses to have a business manager, preferring to keep his own books and do as much tax prep as possible. Thiru has always twitted him about this, but long before the world at large knew about predators such as Madoff, Gerry had not wanted anyone to touch his money. After his first marriage, he never mingled money again. The marriage counselor that Sarah insisted on seeing when he asked for a divorce had proclaimed this “interesting” in a tone that suggested she disapproved. Gerry didn’t care.

But his finances are unusually complicated this year, with the sale of the New York apartment and the purchase of another one, and his mother’s estate still pending, although that shouldn’t affect his taxes.

His father’s estate still pending. His mother’s executor has said to look for official paperwork on that soon, but it hasn’t arrived.