Authors: Laura Pedersen
“Grandpa, can we take Rosamond to the circus?” Joey senses that he’s found his ticket out of constantly going to funeral homes. And he’s decided that Sister Rosamond is fun to be with, even if she is a nun. “This morning they showed the horses on TV.”
“The
circus
? Haven’t you just seen enough nature for one week?”
“I haven’t been to the circus since I was a little girl,” Rosamond says wistfully.
“Wait just a second!” Hayden’s schedule is full up with planning his imminent demise, and there isn’t time for nonsense like clowns and horses. “I thought the whole purpose of our meetin’ was to get you informed about dyin’. So you can decide if you want to stash away some plastic bags and make a will and that sort of thing.”
“But I don’t own anything,” Rosamond reminds him. “I’m a nun.”
“There are still lots of bits and pieces you need to think about tendin’ to. You can’t just leave all the arrangements to others—well, you can, but you’d be crazy to do it.”
“I don’t want to make arrangements to die. I want to spend the little time I have left enjoying life!” All those eager shouts at the baseball game and the happy children at the game farm. For a short while it had made her forget what was looming over them. “I want to go to the circus!”
Joey gives her a covert low five in approval.
Hayden looks suspiciously at Joey as if he’s now certain that the two of them are in cahoots and have been secretly plotting against him.
“The circus, eh?” Hayden turns to get Rosamond’s reaction. But what he notices is not her eager smile so much as the transformation in her appearance. The summer sunlight has turned her skin the color of apricots while the grayness in her eyes that morning has faded away, revealing china blue irises that seem to reflect the intensity of the sky overhead.
“C’mon, Grandpa. Let’s take Sister Rosamond to the circus. Kids under twelve are only ten dollars. And maybe there’s a discount for nuns, too!”
“A discount for nuns?” Hayden is amused. “At least you come by your sales ability naturally. I suppose I should be proud.”
“Hooray!” shouts Joey. “We’re going to the circus.”
“Well do’an’ tell your mother until after we’ve been or she’ll throw fits about your asthma and the possibility of bein’ mauled by a lion.”
As Rosamond steps out of the car to go and do battle with her soul after having violated so many rules, Joey is also faced with an internal struggle. He stares at his cherished Mike Piazza baseball card, the one Rosamond had been most interested in since he’d played so well at the game they’d gone to see. It was worth almost twenty dollars.
They all say good-bye and she turns toward the gate. Hayden starts the engine. Joey yells “Wait!” He leaps out of the car, runs after Rosamond, and shoves the baseball card into her hand, the cardboard still warm and sweaty from being clutched so tightly, making it painfully apparent that enormous deliberation went into giving up such a prized possession.
Rosamond can’t really accept any sort of material gift, which is technically considered to be a worldly possession. But the look of sheer joy on the boy’s face after battling his conscience reminds her of the teachings of Paul, and the glory in being a cheerful giver. She’s deeply touched at being on the receiving end of such an obvious sacrifice. In taking the card Rosamond places her hands over his. “Thank you,” she says. “I know how much you value this and I’ll always treasure it.”
Joey feels his face become warm. He turns without a word and scampers back to the car.
“You gave her a
baseball card
,” says Hayden. He makes up his mind to spend less time teaching his grandson about car maintenance and more time on communicating with women. “Let’s talk a moment about flowers.” Hayden points to the brilliant goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace dancing in the gentle evening breeze along the roadside. “Wildflowers are everywhere, women love them, and best of all, they’re free!”
chapter thirteen
A
s Hayden and Joey pull into their neighborhood a light rain begins to fall. The sidewalks are wet and sparkle as if diamonds have been mixed into the cement. Alongside the front stoops the lilac bushes sift raindrops through their dusty heart-shaped petals and the potted geraniums nod to one another. The residents will be relieved that they won’t have to water their boxes of sweet william and hanging planters of pansies, violets, and petunias. Then there are the plastic roses and plastic daisies that people in Brooklyn still favor. They’ll get a nice rinsing from the rain, as will the white plastic chairs and red children’s wagons that have been left out in the narrow front yards.
Joey is only upstairs for a moment when he shouts, “Mom, where’s my computer?”
“Anthony took it to be repaired, hon,” Diana calls from the kitchen.
“But there ain’t anything wrong with it,” Joey yells back.
“Don’t say ‘ain’t’!” Diana reprimands him. “I don’t know much about computers, but he’s going to add memory or something like that to make it run faster.”
“Has the cheese slid off yer cracker once and fer all?” asks Hayden, settling into the living room to mark up the obituaries with red and black Magic Markers.
“Oh hush!” Diana says angrily. “You always assume the worst about my boyfriends.”
“That’s because they always
are
the worst. And not exactly what you’d call heavy thinkers!” He points a finger to his head for emphasis. “I just do’an’ understand it, Diana. You’re pretty, you’re intelligent. You have a fine education. I mean, it’s the liberal arts and so it’s not good for much of anything, but what is it with you and these ne’er-do-well blokes?”
“They’re not
ne’er-do-wells
. They’re
artists
. You know, not everyone is only concerned about the bottom line the way you are, Dad. Vincent van Gogh never had any money during his lifetime and now his artwork sells for millions!”
“And I might take this opportunity to add that he went crazy and killed himself. It’s not about being coldhearted.” Hayden raises his voice. “It’s about taking responsibility and being—”
“And being like
Linda
! Why don’t you just say it! Married to a congressman with a big retirement account filled with mutual funds!”
“It has nothin’ to do with your sister.”
Diana is upset and wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to fight about this anymore! Why don’t you just move in with Ted and Linda? Your constantly campaigning son-in-law would love nothing more than for all the people at their church and the PTA to know they’re caring for his ailing father-in-law.”
“Why must you always bring up Linda? What’s she got to do with it?”
But Diana only stalks out of the room.
Hayden would never admit it to anyone, least of all Diana, but he quickly becomes bored at Linda’s perfect Tudor-style vinyl-sided home in New Jersey—the cookie-cutter houses, the neighborhood men comparing their lawns and cars, his daughter’s politician husband, Ted, droning on about the missile defense shields and the Kyoto treaty and stopping to pump everyone’s hand and make babies scream with his Halloween grin. All Hayden can ever concentrate on are those two barn door–sized front teeth, which act as a large umbrella above the lower lip. On the positive side, Linda never nags Hayden about his drinking. But this only serves to take half the fun out of it. She simply gives him a tight smile and says, “It’s your life, do what you want.”
Joey observes this argument from the top of the stairs while contemplating the absence of his favorite three distractions—computer games, the cartoon network on AOL, and pornographic Web sites.
Hayden looks up at him. “So Joe-Joe, how about a math problem? What do you think the odds of getting your computer back are? Fifty-fifty, one in ten?”
“I like Tony. He’s going to take me fishing.” Joey wishes that his grandfather didn’t always have to say bad things about his mother’s boyfriends. And also about his father. It only ended up getting everyone all upset. His mother then yelled at him to clean up his room and Hayden usually went out and got drunk.
“Too bad there’s such a big gap between liking a person and trusting a person—about two thousand dollars in this case,” says an irritated Hayden. “See, Joey, you can like the guy at the deli. But don’t trust him to put the ketchup in your bag. Always check for it yourself.”
“My dad says you’re too clinical.”
“I do believe he means
cynical
. And though I have a couple of adjectives for your dear old dad I’ll save them for a judge. Meantime tell yer insolvent, actually there’s a word for him, tell your insolvent father that bein’ cynical pays the bills,” Hayden harrumphs, “if you ever see him again, that is. A wolf may lose his teeth but ne’er his nature. Remember that.”
Diana returns composed and wearing fresh lipstick. “Joey, after dinner I want you to go straight upstairs and clean that room! A mess like that is a perfect place for mice to start nesting. And they carry all sorts of infectious diseases. Now wash your hands and come to the table. I made a nice roasted chicken with fresh broccoli. You two have probably been gorging yourselves on junk food all day.”
“I don’t like broccoli,” says Joey. “Why can’t we have porn?”
“What?”
Diana’s entire body straightens up as Hayden looks on with amusement.
“You know, peas and corn,” says Joey.
“Because tonight we’re having broccoli. There’s an article in
Time
magazine listing all the vegetables that help fight cancer.”
“Diana, darling”—Hayden kisses her to make up for his recalcitrance—“I think you mean
prevent
cancer, not turn back the tide for someone who’s already been
struck down
with it.” They take their places around the dining room table.
“This is one time when you’re wrong, Dad,” Diana persists. “There’s a list of foods that are good for people who’ve already been diagnosed. Cruciferous vegetables possess many cancer-curing properties. I’ll bet you didn’t know that.”
“What’s ‘cruciferous’?” Joey pipes up.
“Anything that has a cross at its base.” Diana makes a cross with her two forefingers to demonstrate. “For instance cauliflower, cabbage, radishes, broccoli—”
“Is Rosamond cruciferous?” asks Joey.
“Who?” Diana asks.
“Saved by the broccoli,” Hayden says to himself as he dramatically drops a single stalk onto his plate and passes the bowl to Diana. “So, how’s the new job at the bone bendin’ factory?”
“It’s an HMO, Dad. The doctors are all very nice. And two are pediatricians so there are plenty of children around, which I enjoy.”
“I do’an’ understand why you didn’t just become a doctor. Scotland has produced some of the best doctors in the world—James Lind discovered the cure for scurvy, the Scots were the first to teach anatomy, and practically invented public health programs. And they train darn good nurses, too. It sounds to me as if you do all the same things that a nurse does at this new job and get paid a quarter as much.”
“We’ve had this discussion a hundred times. I didn’t know what I wanted to do in college and so I majored in psychology. And unfortunately it’s useless without a graduate degree. Besides, I thought that I might like to be a painter and college was just supposed to be a backup.”
“That was your mother’s fault, always takin’ you girls off to museums and exhibitions and givin’ you drawing lessons. I’ll say you should have been a painter—a
house painter
. Yesterday I received two quotes. These criminals want four thousand dollars to paint this place—inside and out.”
“You should talk to Tony. He has some friends—”
“Thanks, but the last thing I need on my payroll is a bunch of knuckle draggers in three-piece suits with bright red bows hanging from the mirrors of their shiny new Camaros. Honestly daughter, do you think I came up the Clyde on a bike?”
“Oh, Dad. Tony could get a discount on all the paint and supplies at his business.”
“It’s not his
business
fer Chrissakes! It’s a
chain store
. He’s an
employee at a chain store, not a majority stockholder
! Besides, I’d rather do it myself. What do you say, Joe-Joe? Should we paint the house together?”
“Yeah, that’d be fun!” says Joey.
“Dad, stop kidding around. Joey can’t paint with his asthma. And you can’t with your, your, you know . . .”
“With my
liver cancer
. It’s not going to go away if we try not to say it, Diana.”
“I know, I know.” She scoops a large helping of broccoli onto her father’s plate.
chapter fourteen
B
efore leaving for work the next morning Diana makes Joey and Hayden plate-sized western omelets with cheddar cheese and big chunks of ham. And she doesn’t argue when Hayden turns on the coffeepot or refuses the glass of vegetable juice she attempts to put in his hand.
“To what do I owe this high-cholesterol treat?” asks Hayden. “If it were your dear departed mother doing the cookin’ then I’d know there was an expensive new frock in the closet.” Hayden chuckles at this reminiscence, elbows Joey, and loudly whispers, “A man supplies, a woman buys!”
“No new cars or clothes. But you’re going to be mad at me,” Diana says as she scrapes the bottom of the frying pan. “I saw Bobbie Anne in the backyard early this morning and I . . . I had a word with her about . . .” she looks at Joey, “about, you know, considering a different career.”
Hayden glances up from his plate and scowls at her. “And what did she say about that, Hardhearted Diana?”
“She told me to mind my own business, in no uncertain terms.”
Hayden laughs loudly and thumps his fist on the table. “Good for her!”
“Honestly, Dad, whose side are you on?”
“Why hers, o’ course!”
Diana practically throws the toast onto his plate, storms out of the kitchen, and leaves the house only after a sufficient banging of doors, tsking, and loudly clacking her high heels across the hardwood floors. Though once in the driveway her paranoia overtakes her anger and she goes back up the front steps and calls through the screen door, “Don’t drink out of the tap today. It smells like sulphur. There’s filtered water in the refrigerator.”