Trophy Kid (16 page)

eighteen

“How could you do this to your uncle Larry?” Robert asked me. We were with Greta and Tom in our hotel’s restaurant, which was closed between lunch and dinner.

“He’s not my uncle and I didn’t do anything to him,” I said.

Robert looked at me like he didn’t know who I was.

“How is he?” I asked.

“He broke his right leg and his left thumb,” Robert said.

“At least he can still write checks,” I said flippantly.

Greta looked like she was holding back a laugh.

“That’s not funny,” Robert said sternly to all of us. “He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had done as you were told.”

“I’m sorry he got hurt,” I said, “but it’s not my fault.

“You’re making things very difficult for everybody. You’re being selfish.”

Of all the people to tell me I was being selfish, Robert seemed the least qualified. Or maybe the most, since he was an expert at it.

“Larry said you told the reporter that you wanted to tell the truth in your book. Is that right?” Robert asked.

“Yes,” I said, regretting that I had told the truth about telling the truth.

“Well, I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I assume that there is more to what you’ve written so far than we’ve seen. Is that right, Tom?”

“There is,” Tom said uneasily. “I thought it would be best to include that material when we were finished. So you could see everything in context.”

I looked at Greta. She no longer seemed amused.

Robert was shaking his head disapprovingly. “Tom, I want to see all your files for the book. You can put them on a CD and give it to Megan.” He looked at his watch and stood. “I have a conference call in a few minutes. We’ll talk again later,” he said, indicating that we were dismissed.

Tom and I started to get up. “I have a few things to say,” Greta said, remaining firmly in her chair.

“Of course,” Robert said, realizing that he had left Greta out of the conversation.

Tom and I sat back down. Robert gave me one last
you’re in big trouble, mister
look before walking away.

“I can’t believe you deceived me like that,” Greta said, sounding more hurt than angry. “I can understand your not wanting to tell Robert. He can be such a control freak. But what could you possibly have written that you thought would upset me?”

A lot of stuff.

“And, Tom, I thought I could trust you. We’ve had such good talks.”

“I’m sorry, Greta. Joe’s gone through so much, and he’s been very open about how he feels. Amazingly open for someone his age.” Tom looked over at me. “Like I was saying before, I wanted you to see everything in context.”

“Am I that horrible that I need to see things in context?” Greta said.

“That’s not what I mean,” Tom said.

“Fine. We’ll read what you’ve put together thus far, and we’ll take it from there,” Greta said, all businesslike. She then became reflective. “I’ve tried to love both my children equally. I’m sorry you don’t see that, Joe.”

“What do you think Robert will do when he reads it?” I asked Tom when we were back in our room.

“I don’t know. Probably fire me. It’s happened before.”

For the first time, I didn’t feel bad just for myself. I felt bad for Tom, too. I thought about what he’d once said to me: that he was a professional failure, never quite making it to the majors in anything he did. Even writing this book with me, a book he’d never even get his name on the cover of, was turning into a failure for him.

“Does this mean the trip to Zagreb is off?” I asked Tom.

Tom set down the brush he’d been using on his thinning hair. “I promised we’d find out what happened to him, and we will.”

“Okay,” I said, hopeful but not exactly reassured. “I guess I messed things up by saying what I did to that reporter.”

“No. Don’t worry about it. And as for Larry, he made his own bed.”

“A hospital bed, in this case,” I joked.

“So what do we have going on tonight?”

“A concert,” I said.

“What kind?”

“Folk music. And dancing. This place is crazy with folk dancing.”

“Hana and her brother are about to get on the plane,” Tom said to me after hanging up the phone the next morning. He had formulated his plan during the longest folk music and dance program in the history of the world.

Hana and Luka were going to the Ministry of Defense in Zagreb, which was two hundred miles away, to see if they could find any information about my father. If anyone asked why Hana wasn’t with me, we’d say she was feeling ill.

My expectations were low, especially after having talked to Vladimir on our first night in Dubrovnik, still clutching my glimmer of hope.

We were about to go down to breakfast when the phone rang; it was Vladimir with some very interesting news. One of the other hotel managers in the part of Dubrovnik where Vladimir worked had reported that Cal and his crew had checked out of their hotel that morning.

“Josef, tonight is going to be very special,” Vladimir said in his rough voice. “People will be happy to see you all grown up.”

“I want to meet them, too,” I said.

“And remember what I told you. Bring your new parents. They are welcome.”

“Um, okay,” I said, not wanting to try to explain how unlikely that was.

After hanging up the phone, I said, “Do you think Robert fired Cal because he kept filming me when Larry told him to stop?”

“I don’t know. Could be.”

There was a knock on the door. It was Megan, there to pick up the CD with all Tom’s book files on it.

“How are you doing, Megan?” Tom said while rummaging through his bag for the CD.

“Robert’s asking me to do all this stuff for him with Larry laid up.”

“How is Larry?” Tom asked.

“Pretty out of it. It’s the thumb that’s giving him a lot of pain. I wish I could have seen it.” Megan smiled mischievously.

Tom handed the CD to Megan.

“I can’t wait to read it,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “All right, see you guys later.”

Tom and I went to breakfast with Jessica and Martie in the hotel restaurant while, I supposed, Robert and Greta were upstairs reading
all
the pages Tom had written thus far.

I wondered how Greta would feel about some of the things I had said about her. She’d probably feel hurt. I suddenly felt bad about the way I’d portrayed her.

While we waited for our food, we told Jessica and Martie what we’d learned about Cal.

“What are we doing today?” Martie asked.

“Key to the city,” I said, reading my itinerary.

“You’re getting a key to the city?” Jessica asked.

“The mayor is supposed to give it to me at one of the gates into the city.”

“Sounds like something Larry must have arranged,” Tom said.

“How is he, anyway?” Jessica asked.

“Larry? He’s back here at the hotel, but I doubt he’ll be getting around much,” Tom said.

“After I get the key, Robert’s supposed to make a little speech,” I said.

“What about this afternoon?” Martie asked as the waiter set our breakfast in front of us.

“This afternoon’s free. Tomorrow we’re supposed to go to the cemetery where my mom and sister are buried.” I poked at my waffle for a few seconds. “I don’t think I want to go. I mean, not with all those cameras around.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Tom said with a sparkle in his eye.

As soon as the key-to-the-city presentation ended, Guava gave me a big hug and a “congratulations.”

Greta also hugged me. “I’m sorry I got angry with you last night.”

“That’s okay,” I said, relieved.

“I’ve decided to take Tom’s advice and wait until you’re finished to read your book. It’s going to be a challenge for me, but I think it’s the right thing to do. We’re in this together,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised and moved by her words. “Are you going to stay and hear Robert’s speech?”

“Are you kidding?” Greta laughed. “We’ve got shopping to do, don’t we, honey,” she said to Guava.

“I want a dress like the ones those ladies we saw dancing last night had,” Guava said excitedly.

“We’ll see you later,” Greta said as Guava took hold of her hand and pulled her away.

“Greta,” I called, running after her. “Do you and Guava want to come with us to the cemetery?”

“That’s tomorrow, honey.”

“I wanted to go when there wouldn’t be so many people and cameras around. Tom arranged it.”

“I’m sure he did,” Greta said. “You two.” She paused for a moment. “Thank you for inviting me. It means a great deal to me that you did.” Greta looked like she was about to cry. “But I think you need to do this on your own. That was the point, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged. “Don’t tell Robert about it, okay?”

“About what?” Greta smiled.

Tom had arranged for Andro to take us to the cemetery. It was a few miles outside the city, and Andro pointed out landmarks, in true tour-guide fashion, as he worked his way onto the coastal route. It was another gorgeous, warm summer day. On one side of the road was the beautiful blue sea, while cypress trees covered the hills on the other side.

After a few minutes, we cut back inland through an old village. On the outskirts of the village was a gravel road that led to the Catholic church and cemetery where my mother and sister were buried. We passed through a white wrought-iron gate. There were many old—in some cases, crumbling—gravestones, shaded by mandarin orange, date palm, and olive trees, among others. The abundant trees provided shade for the entire cemetery.