Джонатан Троппер - This Is Where I Leave You

“Okay, Mom,” Paul says, turning red. He and Alice exchange a quick, guarded look. “Forget I said anything.”

Mom starts to say something else, but Linda comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hill,” she says. “He didn’t mean it like that.”

“This is my home,” Mom says, still irate.

“I know,” Linda says, leading her back into the kitchen. “It’s okay.”

We all stare at Paul, pissed at him for implicating us.

“The point is,” Paul says, “I’ve been working my ass off to try to save this business. I still don’t know if I’m going to be able to. We’re looking at closing one or possibly two stores—”

“I was actually thinking I’d like to join the company,” Phillip says.

His statement is greeted with stunned silence. Alice looks at Paul, her eyes wide with alarm. Tracy looks at Phillip, proud and knowing. Even Barry puts down his paper to pay attention. Wendy looks at me, her eyes widening with glee. Her smile says, This is about to get good.

“What are you talking about?” Paul says.

Phillip wipes his mouth and clears his throat. “I talked to Dad about it a little while back. It’s something he built for us, something he wanted to pass on. It’s his legacy to us, and I’d like to be a part of it.”

“Okay.” Paul nods his head and puts down his coffee mug. “And what is it you’d like to do for the company, Phillip?”

“I want to help you grow it.”

“The only thing you’ve ever grown was hemp.”

“And I made a profit.”

“Not nearly as much as we spent on your lawyers when you got busted.”

“Listen, Paul. You don’t believe in me. I get that. I never believed in myself either, really. But people can change. I’ve changed. And we complement each other. You’re the brains of the operation, I know that. But what about advertising and promotion? What about personnel and PR? I’m a people person, Paul. That’s who I am. And you’re . . . not one. You’re a good guy, but you’re a hard-ass and, let’s face it, you’re a little scary. You’re actually scaring me right now. Your face looks very red. Are you even breathing? Is he breathing?”

Paul brings his hand crashing down on the table. “This is my life!” he shouts. “I have given the last ten years of my life to this company, and it’s barely supporting Alice and me. I’m in debt up to my ass, and the company is in trouble. I’m sorry, Phillip, but we just can’t afford to be the next stop on your tour of professional self-destruction.”

“I understand why you’d say that, I do,” Phillip says. “But this is a family business, Paul. And I’m in the lucky sperm club, same as you.”

Paul gets up and shoves his chair back. “We’re not having this conversation.”

Mom comes back into the room, looking concerned. “What conversation?”

“Fine,” Phillip says. “I kind of dropped that like a bomb on you. It’s a lot to absorb, and you need a little time.”

“Absorb what?” Mom says. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing to absorb, you dumb shit! You’re not coming to work for me!”

“Well, technically speaking, we’d be partners. I’ll buy out Judd and Wendy. Judd’s not interested in the business, right, Judd? And Wendy, you’re going to be richer than God.”

I steal a glance at Barry to see if he’s offended. He is not.

“Baby brother, you can’t even buy a goddamn suit.”

“People change, big brother.”

Paul’s eyes settle on Tracy for a long, uncomfortable beat, and a bitter smile slowly spreads across his face. “Oh. It all makes sense now. Engaged to be engaged.” He shakes his head. “You’re a whore.”

“What did you just call her?” Phillip says, jumping to his feet.

“Not her, you. You’ve always been a whore.”

“Why don’t you come a little closer and say that?”

“Not in the house!” Mom says. She never broke up our fights, thought it was healthy for brothers to pound on each other every now and then, just not where they might break her things.

Paul steps right over to Phillip, where his height and weight advantage is more readily apparent. He’s about two feet away when Tracy steps between them.

“Okay, men. This is good, really good,” she says, her voice loud and clear, like she’s running a seminar. “You’ve each expressed a valid point of view that the other now needs to consider and internalize in a non-confrontational manner. Nothing has to be resolved immediately. And nothing can be resolved until each of you has come to appreciate the other’s position. So let’s agree, shall we, to table this discussion until everyone has had time to assimilate the new information and reconsider his own position. Okay?”

We all stare at Tracy as if she just started jabbering in ancient tongues. We have always been a family of fighters and spectators. Intervening with reason and consideration demonstrates a dangerous cultural ignorance. Paul looks her up and down as if he can’t quite believe she’s there. Then he nods and looks over at Phillip.

“Stupid. Little. Whore.”

Phillip smiles like a movie star. “Infertile limp-dick.”

Paul moves so fast that it’s impossible to say whether Alice’s shriek is in response to Phillip’s remark or the sudden ensuing violence. His hands latch on to Phillip’s neck and the two of them spin backward into the antique buffet, knocking over platters, candlesticks, and Tracy, who was still between them when Paul attacked.

“Not in the house!” Mom shrieks, smacking at their backs. “Take it outside!”

And who knows how much damage they might do, how badly Paul will beat Phillip’s ass, if right then Jen doesn’t appear like some kind of mirage, floating in from the front hall with an awkward smile. “Hi, everyone,” she says.

At the sight of Jen, every person in the room freezes, along with most of my internal organs. Paul looks up at her in shock, his hand still cocked to punch Phillip, who has fallen to his knees against the wall.

“The door was open,” Jen says. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Jen, dear,” my mother says, suddenly composed. “What a nice surprise.” These are the moments when you really have to wonder what reality my mother is living in. She can go from casually watching two of her sons pummeling each other to graciously welcoming the woman who ruined her other son’s life without missing a beat.

As for me, I’m shocked and self-conscious that Jen is here, that our broken marriage is now, in effect, on display. But I also feel an unbidden rush of excitement at her arrival, wondering at the speed of light if this somehow means we’ll be getting back together. In that instant, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched; the pregnancy was a false alarm, she’ll stay for the shiva, we’ll have some hard talks, I’ll yell and she’ll cry, but she’ll still bunk with me on that pitiful sofa bed in the basement. And when the shiva is over, we’ll go home and start again. I won’t even go back for my stuff at the Lees’, just bequeath it to the next desperate tenant. I’ll start fresh, all new things.

Jen looks at me. I look at her. And then I remember the money, sixteen thousand dollars sitting at the bottom of my duffel bag, the money she threatened me with in her voice mail. She’s not here to get me back or even to pay her respects. She has Wade’s baby in her belly and our money on her mind. And now the rage is back, along with a healthy measure of self-loathing for being the pathetic cuckold who wants his cheating wife back.

“I’m so sorry about Mort,” Jen says, hugging my mother.

“Thank you, dear.”

And before things can get any more surreal, Phillip, seeing his opening, hauls off from under Paul and sucker punches him right on the chin and Paul goes down hard. Phillip jumps to his feet and stands over Paul, wincing as he shakes off his fingers. Jen looks at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. I look back at her with a light shrug, and for that single instant, we are us again. And then I remember we’re not and look away. Alice is on her knees, pulling up a dazed Paul, while Tracy hustles Phillip out of the room. “Who’s the little whore now, bitch?” Phillip says, cradling his hand.