They May Not Mean To, But They Do(55)

“Daddy called me Joyful,” his mother said. She sniffled. “It was ironic.”

“Daddy wasn’t ironic,” said Molly.

“Well, wrong, then. He was wrong.”

Ben had to finish the service. Uncle Daniel was lying on the couch by then, staring at the ceiling. Aunt Coco was handing out sticky flourless baked goods, her mouth set in a hard, furious line. Wine made her angry, especially at those who drank too much wine and lay on the couch.

“When do we sing the goat song?” Cora asked.

Ben led the diminished group through a few verses, the children belting out the chorus.

“What’s a zuzim?” Cora asked. “A penny? Or a dollar, or what?”

Molly had opened a bottle of decent wine. She and Freddie were well on their way to having to join Daniel on the couch, Ben thought.

“Mom,” he said, “easy does it.”

His mother leaned back in her chair and put her glass to her lips, defiant, like a child. Freddie said, “Dayenu!” and drained her glass.

“Your mother drinks like a goy,” Joy said.

“Well, you’re supposed to drink wine on Passover,” Ben said.

“It’s okay for me to criticize her, Bennie. I’m her mother.”

“Also, that’s kind of a stereotype, Grandma.” He smiled when he said it. He had noticed his grandmother had become quite sensitive to criticism.

“I love the word ‘dipsomaniac,’” Karl said.

Natalie said, “Other people’s families are so much less trouble.”

Trevor and Melanie seemed content, turning redder with each glass, gamely crunching matzoh. “Brilliant,” Trevor said each time Ben poured.

“Brilliant,” Cora repeated.

Ruby began reading the four questions in pig Latin, Cora disappeared under the table, and Joy was eating macaroons dipped in chocolate, one after the other.

“Mom, easy does it,” Molly said.

Ben laughed, then saw on his mother’s flushed face nothing but earnest concern. You’re not ironic either, Mom, he thought, but kept it to himself.

“I’ll pay for this later,” Joy said, licking her fingers. “Oh boy, will I.”

Ben wondered if he could sneak away to watch the ball game. It was opening day. It was then that he felt the stab of absence, the moment that he glanced around to ask his grandfather if he wanted to watch, too, and remembered that his grandfather was gone.

*

The next morning, Molly woke up with a headache. She and Freddie were on a single blow-up bed wedged between the pullout couch that did not pull out and the bookcase.

“It’s morning,” she said, but Freddie groaned and did not move.

In the bathroom, the door locked, Molly called her brother.

“What the hell was that all about?” she said.

“Okay, I drank too much. I’m sorry I passed out on the couch. Please don’t give me a hard time, Molly. Coco has already done that. Several times. And it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”

“Not you. Mom. What was with all those people? What was Karl doing here? Who is he, anyway? Some random guy from the park? At our first family gathering without Dad? What was she thinking?”

“She knew him in college. But I never heard her mention him until a few days ago. Do you think he was an old boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s sure an old boyfriend now.”

They both laughed.

“At least no one ended up in the ER after this holiday dinner,” Daniel said. But he had been shocked to see Karl there, and hurt. He couldn’t admit it even to Molly, but there was a moment when he walked into the apartment when he’d thought, I am the man of the house now, an unworthy thought that filled him with unworthy pride, until it dissolved into sadness and guilt. And then to have Karl appear—it was all wrong. Still, what was an old geezer like that going to do? Switch walkers with Joy when she wasn’t looking? Daniel thought of himself as a calm, thoughtful, and reasonable person and he was determined to behave like one, but really his mother could have shown a little more consideration. And the man had brought his mother flowers.

“At least he didn’t try to run the seder,” he said, calming himself down. “Although it might have been better if he had. But I’m sorry, there was just something about him being there when Dad wasn’t. It’s only been a few months, for god’s sake.”

“Is this what Mommy wants?” Molly was saying, talking over him. “Every holiday dinner at the Mount Sinai emergency room with an old sick man who isn’t even Daddy? This guy is bad news, Daniel.”

“Bad news.”

“The man wants a nurse, a loving nurse, not a paid companion. That’s what they all want. And we can’t let Mommy fall into that trap.”

“It’s like she’s not thinking clearly. She’s like in shock.”

“Look,” Molly said. “We have to face facts. Mommy’s got nothing left in her life. Nothing. No job to go to. No sick husband to take care of. Her life is empty. She’s very vulnerable.”

Daniel said, “It’s us she needs now.”

“It’s up to us to protect her.”





38

Daniel pulled his mother’s suitcase out of the closet. The sting of mold came with it.