Miriam pretends to check her manicure as Louis passes again. She waits until he’s out of earshot before she speaks again.
“Leo has always been kind to a fault,” she says, a genuine smile finally making its way across her face as she talks about her son. “He was always that way as a child. He’d befriend the lonely kid on the playground. He brought home stray dogs. I think it’s why he went into journalism. It allowed him to connect with and tell the stories of those he wanted to help.” Miriam pats my arm. “I think he sees you as one of those people, Sid. He shared your story about your run-in with that awful woman at the library. I think his heart went out to you. I’m sure he’s fond of you, and I’m sure you provide him a sense of safety and security in a new environment, but I believe he’s confusing those feelings for something deeper. And I think you’re interpreting his kindness for something deeper.
“Joseph and I have been married for sixty years,” she continues. “Sixty years, Sid. We have been through everything together. We still hold out hopes for grandchildren one day.”
“I have grandchildren,” I say.
“Those are your grandchildren, Sid, not ours. Not Leo’s. Those are people from a different life,” Miriam says. “You have led a different life than Leo. And that life is nearing its finale.”
“I’ve played the cards this life has dealt me as best I can, Miriam. It has not been an easy one.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t,” she says coolly. “But my son has devoted his life to his career, and now he’s here in Palm Springs for likely his last chapter in broadcasting but also for his first long-term relationship. This...you!...is not fair to him. It’s not normal. It’s selfish. He needs a man who is his equal and his age. I’m sure you can see that, can’t you?”
I look into the eyes of a woman around my age who should understand the power of love. “But I love him.”
“That’s not enough,” she says. “It will never be enough.”
Leo’s laughter carries along the wind, through the branches of the trees, and his happiness lights on my shoulder.
I close my eyes and listen, capturing the sound in my brain, hoping that one day—when I am alone and dying and need to remember the happiest time of my life—I will hear his laughter again, and my pain will be quieted. I will fade from this earth hoping and believing—no, knowing—I was loved.
“Please tell Leo I wasn’t feeling well,” I say.
Miriam nods, and I head to the exit.
The tears don’t come again until the valet brings my car, I drive away and Leo’s laughter melts away in the warm desert breeze.
Teddy
The living room slider opens.
Trudy walks out and heads for one of Ron’s beloved Knoll patio chairs. Although these mid-century wire frame chairs make designers and MCM lovers swoon at their minimalist beauty, they make the average joe reach for Preparation H when they take a seat on the kitchen grater that calls itself a chair.
I want to save her before it’s too late. My sister has endured enough pain in her life. But God, does evil Teddy want to see her take a seat in that chair and then try to extricate herself without Two Men and a Truck.
“Why don’t you sit on this chair?” I say, patting the striped cushion. “It’s a bit more comfortable.”
I’ve gone soft in my old age.
“Next to you?” she asks.
“I still want the money.”
She laughs and takes a seat.
“That’s actually why I came out,” Trudy says. “My attorney sent the paperwork. It should be in your in-box. You just need to Docusign, and the money will be in your account first of the week after we leave.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Trudy.” I reach out and grab her hand. “For saving my life.”
Trudy keeps her eyes focused on the mountains in the distance, clouds forming shadows on the peaks, playing leapfrog over the valley like the two of us used to do in our front yard. When she looks at me, I realize she appears entirely different.
The mask is gone.
“Speaking of saving your life, I’m glad Ava convinced you to get the surgery. The world needs you in it, Teddy.”
