Her eyes drift down my towel-clad body.
“Check the address Leo gave you,” the woman adds. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Leo?” I ask. “Leo Levy?”
“Yes!” the woman exclaims. “Do you know him? Could you point us in the right direction?”
“Mom? Dad?”
Leo appears at the door holding a basket of grapefruit whose faces are as red as mine is right now.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“You told us to stop by and see you,” his mother says, brushing past me to kiss her son on the cheek. “We were in the neighborhood.”
“Beverly Hills is notin the neighborhood, Mother.” Leo laughs. “Did you forget how to use a phone?”
“You’re our son!” his father says, moving inside and gripping Leo’s shoulder in greeting. “We wanted to surprise you!”
“And we wanted to see your house in the desert,” his mom adds. “And hear about your new job.”
I stand here, motionless, as old and naked as a Roman sculpture.
“I’m so sorry, Sid,” Leo says. “This is Sid Silverstein. And, Sid, this is my mom and dad, Miriam and Joseph Levy.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, consciously trying to control any nervous babble I feel coming on. “Usually I’m dressed.” I smile. “Which I will go do right now.”
I excuse myself and retreat to the bedroom, where I hurriedly dress.
“I’m so sorry,” I say when I return.
Miriam is still holding the flowers. She nervously brushes an invisible piece of lint off her blouse and eyes me curiously. Finally, she pantomimes hitting herself in the head, as if she were starring in a V8 commercial, and looks toward the back of the house.
“Silly me!” she says. “Where is the crew? Out back? You should have told us that you were filming a segment for your new ‘Gray and Gay’ show. We are so sorry to interrupt. Do you mind if we watch?”
Miriam turns to me.
“That explains why you are in such wonderful shape for a man your age,” she continues. Miriam smacks Joseph in the arm with the bouquet. “You should look that good!”
“I think I need to open this,” Joseph says with a laugh, taking the bottle of champagne. “Now.”
Miriam puts her arm around her son and eyes me closely.
“Let me guess: Are you training for the Senior Olympics? Leo, remember Rabbi Katz? He is training for them, too.” Shesmiles at me. “The rabbi is one of the world’s best over-seventy power walkers.”
“No, Mom,” Leo says, exhaling. “This is my friend, Sid, and he is not training for the Senior Olympics.”
Friend?
“My mistake,” she says. Miriam looks at the grapefruit. “Oh! Now I get it: You’re filming a segment on the impact of grapefruit juice on statins! Now, that is an important topic for folks our age, isn’t it, Sid?”
Please let there be an earthquake.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I should get going. It was nice to meet you both.”
I beeline to the bedroom and stand there, frozen. Leo follows me in. He is no longer carrying the grapefruit, only the bottle of champagne.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I had no idea they were coming.”
