"Hi, lady," David said.
"Hi, baby," the nurse said, waving.
"My boys," Bobo said as they walked into his room. He was propped up on the bed.
"Uncabobobobo," David said, and he climbed onto his great-uncle's bed, sat next to the old man, and put his two fat little hands on Bobo's old face. "Hiya, Uncabobo."
"Yeah, sure. Don't try to charm me, you little stinkpot," Bobo said, smiling a smile minus his teeth, which were in a glass on the table across the room. Rick spread a blanket on the floor of Bobo's room, sat David on it and put a few toys on it, and the baby fell on them gleefully. Then Rick took his uncle's hand.
"Uncle B., I need your advice," he said to Bobo, and he told him his worries about Doreen.
"Ricky," he said when the story was told. "There's a reason why these ways of operating didn't exist in my day, or if they did it was so far underground, nobody knew or talked about it. Because somewhere along the way the idea breaks down, and is too full of whaddyacallit . . . complications. Never cut and dried, and that's true no matter what that fancy lawyer tried to tell you. And here's why. Can you walk away and say good-bye forever to that little girl? She gave you the most precious thing in life.
"Sure, if you have no heart maybe you say, 'It's not
my problem.' But even with the crazy life you lead, you're a guy who turns the world upside-down for somebody you love. Do I know it? How many other old
kockers
in this place have a regular visitor like you? Only me!" Rick wanted to put his face down on the blanket and cry. How he loved this old man. This sweetheart of a human being who saw through to the good in him. And how unbearably sad that David would grow up and never know or remember him.
"I trust your heart. You'll figure out a way to help that kid. Meantime, who's the woman?"
"What woman?"
"In the past few weeks, either my eyes are worse than I thought, or you're actually looking svelte."
"Svelte?"
"Okay, svelte is pushing it. But cute would be accurate," the old man said, now opening both eyes and laughing. "Some dame is finally getting to you, please God?"
"Absolutely not."
"Don't lie to a dying man. On second thought, lie to me, so I can go to my grave with a grin."
"You're delirious, Uncle B."
The old man laughed again. "No, I'm not" was all he said before he fell asleep. What is he talking about, Rick thought while he packed up the baby's things, and with David back on his shoulders he headed down the corridors that were lined with the black-and-white photos of Hollywood stars on his way to the parking lot. But when he got to the freeway entrance to go east, back to the studio, he passed it, took the one going west instead, and drove out to Malibu to be with Patty.
Andrea was just about to turn on the answering machine and leave for the commissary. She already had her purse in her hand, and Candy, the new girl who worked across
the hall, was waiting outside for her so they could have lunch together when the phone rang. Shit, Andrea thought. Maybe I'll just ignore it. Rick had called her a few minutes ago from the car to say he was making a stop before he came in, and that he probably wouldn't be back until three. So it wasn't him calling.
"Andrea," Candy called from the hall. "Should I start over there and get us a table?"
"No, I'll just be a second. Richard Reisman's office."
"Uhhh . . . hello. Uhhh, is Mr. Reisman there?"
"No, he's not." It was a funny voice and she could tell by the sound it was long distance. "He should be back in a few hours. Can I say who's calling?"
"Are you Andrea?"
"Yeah." Come on already, she thought. I'm like starving here.
"I'm Bea Cobb. Doreen's mother. This is an emergency and I need to talk to him right away."
She sounded panicky. "Why don't I try and find him for you, Mrs. Cobb?" Andrea said. "I'll have him call you as soon as I do."
Andrea put the phone down and went to the door. "Candy, I can't go to lunch. Something important is happening and I need to try and find Rick."
He wasn't at home, he wasn't in the car. She even called the Hamburger Hamlet in Beverly Hills where he sometimes liked to take David for a late lunch, but he wasn't there either. If he missed this call he'd be devastated, but she couldn't imagine where he might be.
"Well, isn't this a nice surprise?" Patty Fall said, opening the front door. "I was just hosing off the deck and planning to sit out there and do some paperwork. Come on in, you two."
David toddled through the living room and followed Rick and Patty into the kitchen.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" she asked Rick.
"I'm playing hooky. I just left Bobo and he's so obviously not long for this world that sometimes I'm afraid to leave him. Afraid I'll never see him alive again. It's so hard for me to think I'm really losing him that I guess going back to my office to work on a production schedule felt mundane."
"Well, I'm glad you decided to come here," she said. In a practiced way she gathered several plastic kitchen utensils and containers, scooped David up, and led Rick outside, past the deck and down to the beach. While David poured sand from one container to the next, Rick and Patty sat close to each other.
"Death is a part of life, Ricky. Bobo will die and you'll go on. You've had an unparalleled relationship with him. And he was a great influence on you."
"Sometimes I think he doesn't want to live anymore. That he's just hanging on until he nags me into getting married."
Patty laughed. "Who does he have in mind as the bride?"
"Beats the hell out of me. Today he accused me of holding out on him. Said I looked too good, so there must be a woman in my life." David had pulled off one of his shoes and was now filling it with sand.
"He's right," Patty said, smiling. Rick looked at her. When their eyes met they held each other's gaze and he saw her eyes searching his. "Is there a woman?" she asked.
Rick wasn't prepared for the surge of feeling, a combination of gratitude for her friendship and longing for her. A need to hold her and kiss her and cry with her over the loss of Charlie and Bobo. And to thrill with
her over David. The ringing of the telephone on the deck broke the moment.
"Be right back," Patty said, and scrambled up to the deck. "Yes. Hello?" Rick heard her voice drifting down to the beach. Then she gestured for him to come, so he picked up David and ran to the deck to get the phone.
"Mr. Reisman, I just had an emergency call from Doreen Cobb's mother, Bea. I can call her back and patch her in to you at Mrs. Fall's if that's okay," Andrea said on the phone.
"It's okay," Rick said as Patty took David and gently wiped the sand from his little feet.
"Hello?"
"Bea."
"I'll get right to the point. Have you talked to my daughter lately?"
"Not for a few weeks. Why?"
"I thought maybe she'd show up out there. To see you or the baby, because a few days ago she ran away.''
"No," Rick said. Ran away. Now he knew he had to be right about the son-of-a-bitch brother-in-law. Goddammit. Why hadn't he said more to her when she called on the day of the adoption? Why hadn't he said, Doreen, this is a formality, not about the real connection you'll always have with this boy. You'll always be David's family. We love you. "Bea, have you called the police?"
"Well, I was going to, but my son-in-law Don told me to just leave it alone. He says it's a teenage thing she has to work out for herself, and that in cases like this the police can't do much, and that she'll come back."
The son-in-law probably hoped they'd find her dead somewhere. Rick felt hamstrung. He was lost in his own mental picture of Doreen's anguish. From far away
he heard Bea say, "Don's been my adviser since my husband died eight years ago. He practically raised Doreen. Trish's husband. In those pictures we sent, he's the one with the red hair."
"Listen, Bea," Rick said, his head ringing with fear. "I'd call the police if I were you."
"Yeah, maybe," she said in a voice that made him know she wouldn't.
"And if I hear from her—" he began.
"You tell her to come home," said her mother, "because everyone in this family loves her and wants the best for her." But Rick knew the truth and feared for Doreen's life.
32
L
AINIE DECIDED that the only sign of Mitch's deception was his patent avoidance of her. In the store while customers were around he was always the Mitch of Lainie and Mitch, the beautiful couple, with an arm around her, or a tender pat on her cheek. But at home, his eyes avoided hers. When she went off to bed, he stayed up late, saying he had work to do. Most mornings he was out of bed and in the shower even before the baby woke.
In contrast to his treatment of her, the way he focused on little Rosie, held her, kissed her, gave Lainie more evidence that his coolness to her wasn't simply due to his preoccupation with some problem at the store.
Why don't I tell him I know what he's doing? Lainie would wonder at three in the morning as she sat awake in their bed. And memories of looking out the bedroom window in her childhood room at dawn came back.
Memories of watching her father return from God knows where, sometimes so drunk he'd forget to turn off the headlights on the car. She would hear him tiptoe up the stairs. And when she figured he was asleep, little Lainie would hurry down in her pajamas and turn out the car lights, then hurry back to her bed where she would feel that same kind of helpless feeling she now had about Mitch.
Is that what I should do, Lainie thought, wait until things blow over? Sit it out, the way my mother did until he died, so she could collect the insurance? Not me, Lainie thought, I'm not going to live a lie. But instead of saying a word, she went on about her life, her day, caring for the baby, stopping by the store, going to her classes, unable to shake the taunting question that was stuck in her chest and her brain.
That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet soundly loves!
A group of students from an acting class were doing a reading of
Othello
for Lainie's Shakespeare class. I don't need an Iago to torment me, she thought, listening to the dialogue. I'm my own Iago. Driving myself crazy the way he does Othello. There is no way that Mitch De Nardo, my husband, is screwing the surrogate, she thought, trying to be rational. But the Iago part of her asked, Really? If that's true, then walk out of this classroom, right now, and drive past Sherman Oaks Park. Didn't Mitch say he was going to take Rosie there to play tonight? Didn't he think you'd be safely in school so he could take Jackie's daughter to visit with her? Why else would he be so eager to do that if he didn't have something going on with Jackie.
No, Iago; I'll see before I doubt, when I doubt, prove;
And on the proof, there is no more but this
,
Away at once with love or jealousy
.
The actor reading the part of Othello had a giant voice that belied his slight build. It was hard to believe the emotion he could call up, reading from a script and sitting on a folding chair, but everyone in the room seemed to be leaning in toward him, feeling Othello's grief and pain. When it was time for the break, as the rest of the class headed for the Coke machines Lainie walked to her car.
There were two teenage boys shooting baskets, a family sitting at a picnic table eating, and a jogger making his way around the track. The playground was empty. A strong wind blew some sand out of the sandbox and made the swings sway back and forth, as though ghostly riders were pumping them into the sky. "I do not think but Desdemona's honest.'' Sitting in her car, Lainie felt stupid to have let her insanity make her walk out on the last half of her Shakespeare class to rush over here to see if Mitch was with Jackie. If she went home now he would notice she was early and wonder why. But that would be okay. She could tell him she missed the baby and wanted to see her before she went to sleep.
Mitch's car was in the garage and the condominium was still as Lainie made her way quietly up the stairs. When she opened the door to the nursery, what she saw filled her with relief and joy and embarrassment for her own doubts about her beloved Mitch. There he was in the rocking chair, asleep, with the sleeping baby snuggled against him. Sick, I am so sick, so insecure that because of the smell of some perfume anyone might wear and some neighbor's remark, I might have been
crazy enough to lash out at my husband with a ridiculous accusation.
Mitch De Nardo, the sweetest, best man in the world, had simply been distracted by problems at work. She would wake him now, and after they put Rosie in a night diaper and down to sleep in her crib, Lainie would somehow get Mitch to come to bed early, where she would make sweet love to him. It had been too long, and their loving would make them close again.
"Mitchie," she said, touching him tenderly.
"Huh?" Mitch looked up at her, realized he'd been put to sleep by his own lullaby, then looked down at the sleeping baby. "Little angelface wore me out tonight."
"What did you two do together?" Lainie asked, taking Rose from him and gently placing her on the changing table.
"Oh, it was great. We took a long ride."
In the evening? During rush hour, they took a ride? "Where?"
"The beach," Mitch said, yawning, standing, and stretching. "Want me to put her night diaper on her?" he asked.
"I can do it," Lainie said.
"Great," he said, not looking at her. "Now that you're here, I'm going to go back to the store. I've got a stack of invoices that I have to look over. The bookkeeper's coming tomorrow, and I'm not ready for her. I want her to do all the store bills and all of our personal stuff too." He patted his pants pocket and found his car keys. "Don't wait up" were his last words, and he was gone.
The next day Lainie took Rose to the zoo with her friend Sharon and Sharon's baby. Rose pointed her tiny finger at the elephant and said, "Elatin." "Yes!" Lainie said, thrilling to the sound of her daughter learning to talk.