“He’s pleasant but so tightly wrapped. Probably wears his suits to bed.” Sunny bounced off the sofa. “I’ll get the file together.”
“Thanks.”
Then, instead of reading the email, I searched Whole Food’s site and began shopping.
* * *
“Ezra, what’s all this?” Deborah’s surprised face pinked with pleasure. I handed her one bouquet of roses and kept the other for Nettie.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to take the burden off you and Nettie, so I’m having some groceries delivered, as well as dinner tonight. I figured that would be okay?”
“Yes, but why? You didn’t have to do this. And please, I’m sorry. Come inside. Nettie is just getting dressed.”
I stood in the living room and didn’t have long to wait before Nettie, with the help of a walker and her aide, trekked down the long hallway from the bedroom toward us.
“Well, look who’s here. Hello, gorgeous.” I helped her sit on the couch, and the aide put a blanket over her legs. “These are for you.”
“You must be looking in the mirror when you say that. And thank you.” She gave me her soft, wrinkled cheek to kiss. “They’re beautiful. I haven’t gotten flowers in years.”
“Here, Mrs. Friedman. Let me put them in water for you so they don’t die.” Her aide took them from me.
“Thank you.” I smiled at her.
In this apartment was a microcosm of New York: two elderly Jewish women, a black Jamaican lady, and a gay man, all in some manner finding our way in the world.
“Isn’t he gorgeous, Grace? He and my grandson make a beautiful couple.” She peered around. “Where is Monroe? Isn’t he here with you?”
“No, Mom. Ezra came by himself. He brought both of us flowers and is having dinner delivered.”
“You’re a nice man. I always liked you.” She patted my knee. “My grandson is a donkey sometimes.”
I blinked. This was the first time she’d called me a man. “Nettie, do you know how old I am?”
She cocked her head, and those bright eyes narrowed. “Is this a trick question? You’re seventeen.” A shadow of doubt crept over her face. “But you look older. I don’t know. I’m so confused sometimes.”
Unwilling to upset her, I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t get upset. The doctor said it’s all part of the healing process.”
She made a face. “Bah. What do they know? I’ll tell you what makes me feel good—seeing you and Monroe happy and together.”
In the back of my mind, Sunny’s warning echoed. But I wasn’t playing a game. Somehow, I’d become entwined in the Friedmans’ lives again, and this time I wasn’t letting anyone else dictate the ending.
“We’re fine, and our main concern is seeing you get well.”
Grace returned with the flowers in a vase and her coat draped over her arm. “Mrs. Friedman, I’m going out now to buy your lottery tickets. Do you want me to get anything else?”
“No, thank you. Tell Mohammed at the store that I’ll be there as soon as I feel strong enough.”
She slipped on her coat. “I will. He said his wife was making you some of her special soup. Guaranteed to keep you healthy. I’ll be back in a little while.” She left the apartment.
“That Grace is a doll. A sweetheart. Never complains. Her husband is in the Army, and her son is in medical school.” Nettie touched the flower petals. “These are so pretty and smell wonderful.”
The door opened, and Roe walked in. When he saw me, his smile faltered.
“Ezra? I-I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why not? He’s waiting for you. And he brought us flowers and is having dinner sent in. Isn’t he thoughtful?”
The smooth skin pulled tight over Roe’s cheeks, but he managed to force out a terse smile. “Very.”
