Hangman (37 page)

W
HEN TRAUMA HIT,
Gabe did what he always did.

He adjusted.

His father never did call him back. Gabe stored the papers in his closet, figuring he’d hear from the old man sooner or later. He proceeded to go about his business. Within a week’s time, Rina found him a permanent tutor so he could be homeschooled. He finished tenth grade in a month. The only thing he couldn’t pick up from the tutor was his language courses, but even that turned out to be okay. Rina spoke Yiddish, so he was able to practice his German with her. The Loo spoke Spanish, which Gabe picked up in a heartbeat. And while it wasn’t the same as Italian, it was close enough to keep his ear trained.

Whenever he had spare time, he’d take in concerts and operas. A couple of times, Hannah went with him. Other times, he went by himself. He loved opera—the primary reason he wanted to learn German and Italian. He wanted to figure out how to mix the words with music, and the only way to do that was to speak the language of the libretto.

Most of his time was spent at the piano. His music had always been his lifeline, but there was always something desperate and rushed in the way he played. After living with the Deckers and taking lessons with Nicholas Mark, Gabe discovered actual joy in learning. Every meeting with Mark put him one step closer to being a real pianist. He could move a little slower, listen a little more carefully, linger at the keyboard a little longer because for the first time, he was living with predictability. Everything was on time and without drama. Not that there was anything wrong with drama, but it was better handled in the arts than in real life. He had always had freedom, but now he had freedom without fear. The autonomy made him generous. He often came with Hannah to her choir practice to accompany the singers—just to be nice. As graduation approached, Mrs. Kent had begged him to play something special for the evening. After much cajoling from her and from Hannah, he relented.

Why the hell not?

Originally he decided to do something technically challenging like Rachmaninoff—something that would wow an audience. But thirty minutes before the actual ceremony was to begin, he changed his mind.

This wasn’t a piano concert: it was a
celebration.
People were happy. Some parents actually loved their children and took pride in their accomplishments.

At the last moment, he found a working computer and printer in the synagogue where the graduation ceremony was to take place and downloaded eighteen pages of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 in C-sharp minor. It was a familiar piece to him and to most people because it was used in all the old cartoons whenever there was a chase. He knew he could sight read it without problems. When he was due to play, he lined up the first five sheets of paper on the piano stand, and had Mrs. Kent feed him the next one as he brushed away each used sheet onto the floor. With the papers flying about, especially at the end with tempo going at lightning speed, it had an unintentional comical effect which he incorporated with great flair.
Everyone was laughing. He had made a happy audience even happier. He learned another important lesson. Playing in public wasn’t just about skill, it was about entertainment.

He never stopped thinking about his parents. It was wrong to compare them to the Deckers, but he did it anyway. He used to rationalize that their crazy behavior stemmed from their deep profundity. That was total horseshit. The Deckers were stable people, and just as—if not more—complex than his mom and dad.

Rina and the Loo had taken him in with grace and made him a part of their lives. It was brought home to him when they insisted he come with them to New York for Sammy’s medical school graduation. They included him in Sammy’s wedding. They also took him to Israel when they moved Hannah into seminary: paid for his ticket, gave him his own hotel room and his own personal tour guide. He and the guide went everywhere around the Holy Land as well as Petra in Jordon and the pyramids in Egypt. He explored ancient civilizations, finding out that the cliché was still true; it was a whole big world out there.

Neither of the Deckers tried to be a substitute parent. They were facilitators, and because they were kind, he tried not to be a pain in the ass. No, Rina was not his mother and the Loo was not his father. But truth be told, he knew at this stage in his life that it was far better to have Rina and the Loo than Mom and Dad.

BY MID-NOVEMBER, NEW
York was awash in freezing rain while Chicago was experiencing its first snowfall. L.A., on the other hand, was clear skies and sunshine. The air had turned colder but it was far from cold and there was still color left on some of the trees. But what surprised Gabe was that the city was still green. Back east, the chill of fall was turning into the frost of winter. But Rina had a
garden
. It was weird.

But not as weird as the phone call from his dad. Chris’s voice was a monotone. “You have papers that belong to me.”

No introduction. Gabe had been expecting the call, but his fa
ther’s voice always made him stumble. “I do,” he answered. “Where should I mail them?”

“I don’t trust the mail. I’ll come to L.A. and pick them up. Besides, I’d like to see you. What’s your schedule like?”

“Aside from Mondays and Thursday from ten to twelve, I’m completely open.”

Donatti paused. “You dropped out of school?”

“Rina set me up with a tutor. I’m being homeschooled, which is great. I should be done with high school by next June.”

“I haven’t seen any tutoring bill on your credit card.”

“It’s a couple of hours every week, Chris. I pay in cash.”

“What’s going on between ten and twelve on Mondays and Thursdays?”

“I have my piano lessons with Nick at USC.”

A pause. “Nick as in Nicholas Mark?”

Donatti sounded a little peeved. Gabe smiled. “You’re welcome to sit in and see him bust my balls.”

“You should be used to that.”

“He’s a piece of cake compared to you.”

“No need to get nasty. I’ll be by tomorrow at two.”

Tomorrow was Thursday. Gabe said, “I can’t make it home by two on a bus. You could meet me at SC.”

“We’ll meet at SC. I’ll call you when I get there.” Donatti hung up.

According to Gabe’s phone, the conversation had lasted one minute and twenty-eight seconds. Nothing remarkable had transpired, but one sentence rang in his brain.

Besides, I’d like to see you.

Not, I
need
to see you, but I’d
like
to see you.

It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. It made him feel good.

THE PHONE RANG
exactly at two. “I’m at an open air café on campus,” Gabe told his father. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Gabe gave his father directions. Five minutes later he saw Chris Donatti walking toward him—tall, tan, built, and handsome. The man turned heads wherever he went and today was no exception. Every time he passed a female, she’d look backward. Chris was wearing a white shirt, brown cords and a tweed jacket. He looked like every co-ed’s fantasy professor. There were so many things to despise about Chris, but on a gut level, Gabe was proud to be Chris’s son.

His father—for better or worse.

When Chris reached the table, he held out his hand. Gabe gave him the manila folder and Chris sat down and opened it up.

“Are you hungry?” Gabe asked.

“Get me a cup of coffee.”

“Do you mind if I get something to eat?” Wordlessly, Donatti pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. Gabe said, “I wasn’t asking for money.”

“Take it.”

“I’m really okay.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Someone offers you money, you take it. Now shut up and let me read.”

So much for sentimentalism. Gabe took the cash, waited in line and bought a burger, fries, a Diet Coke and a coffee. He sat back down and started to eat. A minute later, Chris was glaring at him. He wasn’t eating particularly loud, but his dad was in one of
those
moods where everything bothered him.

Gabe said, “Uh, maybe I’ll eat at another table.” He moved to the table next to his dad and was eating peacefully while reading Evelyn Waugh—one of Rina’s favorite writers. It was a beautiful day and he felt happier than he had in years. He knew he was calm because his zits finally cleared up. How good was it to be chomping on a burger and reading a great book. The only thing missing was maybe a little Mozart—strings pieces only, and please, definitely no piano. He had become so absorbed in his reading that he didn’t hear the old man clearing his throat until Chris was clearly annoyed. Gabe looked up and moved back to the first table. “Everything okay?”

“Get me another cup of coffee. Large.”

“Sure.”

When Gabe brought the second cup back, Chris was straightening the papers and putting them back inside the envelope. “It looks in order. I’ll take the papers to my lawyer. See how we move on from there.” Chris looked at Gabe. “Do you know where your mother is?”

“If I were to guess, I’d say somewhere in India judging from the owner of the car. Her letter also said that she was far away. I put a copy of the letter in the envelope.”

“I saw it. And yes, she is in India. Uttar Pradesh, to be specific.” Chris pulled out several photographs and spread them on the table.

Gabe sorted through the snapshots. “When did you find her?”

“Months ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You knew she was alive. What difference would it have made?”

That was true. He stared at the photographs. “Man, she’s ready to pop.”

“She already has.” He took out a final picture. “Meet your new sister.”

The infant was round and chubby with a thatch of black hair. “Where’d you get this?”

“None of your business.”

Despite himself, Gabe smiled. Babies were cute. No jealousy because his mom was lost to him anyway. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

“Go ahead. To me, she’s just a little bastard. You’re not surprised by any of this. Did she send you another letter?”

“If she had, I would have called you.” He looked into his father’s flat blue eyes. “She only contacted me once. Since then I haven’t heard squat from her.” Gabe adjusted his glasses. “Decker figured that she was probably pregnant and that’s why she left so suddenly.”

“Did she tell him that when she met with him way back when?”

“No. He just figured it out later.”

“And you believe him?”

“Decker wasted a lot of time looking for Mom. He wouldn’t have done that if he had known that she had wanted to disappear.”

Donatti thought about that and decided it was the truth. “How’s Decker?”

“They’re nice people and nice to me. I’m okay if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So Decker figured it out.” Donatti drummed the table. “Your mom managed to hide
your
bastard origins from me, but she couldn’t pretend with an Indian baby.”

Gabe didn’t take the bait. “Does Mom know that you know about her?”

“Not yet.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Donatti shrugged. “Gabriel, I’ve thought about everything from doing nothing to killing the bitch.”

“And?”

“In the end, I don’t fucking care anymore.” Donatti took out a pack of cigarettes and lit a smoke. “That isn’t true. I do care. But I don’t care enough to ruin my life even though I could get away with it. I’d like to kill her, but I don’t want her dead.”

“Not that you asked me, but I think that doing nothing is a very wise decision.”

“Besides I have the best revenge of all. She’s in India.” Donatti smiled, but it wasn’t a pretty one. “But you’re here.”

“So what? She doesn’t give a damn about me.” Said more to himself than to his father. “If she did, she would have taken me with her.”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Donatti wagged his finger. “She didn’t dare take you with her. Maybe I’d let her go—there are lots of women in this world—but bastard or not, you’re still my only kid. If she had taken you away, it would have sealed her death warrant.”

He crushed out his cigarette and lit another one.

“I know your mother very well. She’s got herself a little bastard baby girl, but her
real
baby is right here with me. She’s in incredible psychic pain and that makes me very happy.” He stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you taking me home?”

“You mean back to the Deckers?”

“Home is the Deckers.” Gabe grinned. “But you’ll always be my only dad.”

“Yeah until you find out who shot his wad in your mom that summer.”

Gabe ignored him and stood up. “You know, I can take the bus if it’s an inconvenience to drive me into the Valley.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Besides I want to hear all about your progress with your new pal, Nick.”

“He’s my teacher, Chris, not my pal. He tortures me every time I see him. But I guess that’s the price of getting better.”

“You’d better be improving after spending all my money on lessons.” Donatti grabbed the nape of his neck and none too gently. “This way.”

A stretch limo was waiting. That wasn’t a surprise. His father usually needed room for his long legs. What was a surprise was a wisp of a girl sitting in the backseat. She looked fourteen although he knew she was at least eighteen. Chris didn’t mess with underage girls anymore. She was cute in a pixie way—small upturned nose, dimples in her cheeks, and curly auburn hair. There was intelligence in her brown eyes.

“Talia.” Chris pointed to the girl. To her, he said, “This is my kid.”

“Gabe Whitman.” Gabe offered her his hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” She shook his hand back. “He talks about you all the time.”

“No, I don’t.” Donatti looked annoyed and then preceded to ignore her the entire ride home, listening intently as Gabe spoke about his lessons, his music, his composing, what he was studying, what he was learning from Nicholas Mark, and finally about upcoming competitions. Donatti smoked cigarettes and drank coffee, his eyes focused on Gabe’s face the entire time, his gaze never wavering. Before Gabe could even catch his breath, the limo was outside the Decker house.