“It’s good to see you, Teddy. And it’s good to see you haven’t changed. You’re still funny.”
“Funny, ha-ha, or funny weird?” I ask.
“Give me a hug, Tedster.”
That nickname gives the icks, more so than kissing a woman.
Trudy moves toward me in the living room. She opens her arms strangely, like a marionette being manipulated by a puppeteer.
I take a big step back.
“Good God, woman. You look like a creepy doll from a horror movie,” I say. “Just cut to the chase, Trudy. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Her voice is too chipper, like a costumed character. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.”
“Your choice.”
She stops in her tracks.
“You didn’t answer my calls,” she says.
“And you never acknowledged the death of my husband!” I suddenly yell, tired of our repartee. “Nor did you take my calls after our father kicked me out of our house. I was a child, you monster!”
My voice echoes through the house.
Trudy drops her arms. Her round head follows, doughy chin drooping into the folds of her neck. She shuts her eyes and mouths a prayer.
“You’re my brother,” Trudy says. “I just missed you.”
“You don’t have a brother. You lost that privilege a long time ago when you sided with our devil of a father.” I stare at Trudy’s sweater and shake my head. “You want an appropriate Bible verse? How about what God says about rats? ‘You are allowed by God to kill it—not for the pleasure of killing—but for the protection of your household.’”
Trudy’s eyes grow as wide as the inflatable round rainbow floaty spinning in the pool beyond.
“Yeah, I can preach some shit, too, sis. I learned from a PK. The gays got some faith, too, believe it or not.”
The patio door slides open, and Ron sticks his head inside.
“Everything okay?”
“Peachy!” I yell. “Our guests were just leaving.”
Ron actually looks displeased at my pronouncement, but he shuts the slider.
“Just tell him why we’re here, Grandma, so we can get the hell out of assisted living. God, I hate old people. They give me the fucking creeps.”
“Watch your fucking language, Ava!” Trudy yells. “I will not warn you again.”
I lean my head back and roar with laughter. I look at my sister.
“Perhaps you have changed,” I say. “Cursing. Yelling. It’s like I’m having a séance with Dad.”
“I’m sorry, God,” Trudy whispers, eyes raised to the ceiling. Then she looks at me. “I’m exhausted and stressed from the trip...” She stops herself from finishing.
I follow Ava’s eyes as they pivot to Zsa Zsa’s wide windows facing the pool and mountains. Ron, Sid and Barry are watching the scene as if they are on safari and just waiting for the lion to kill the adorable Ohioan antelopes.
“Are you okay, Grandma?” Ava asks.
She is able to express genuine emotion?
