Douglas Kennedy - The Pursuit of Happiness

'I really never wanted to see you again'.

'I don't blame you', I said.

'But I also understood you. If it had been Jack, instead of Eric, I would have been merciless'.

'I was too merciless'.

Another deep drag on her cigarette. 'Yeah', she said. 'You were. But... he told me you forgave him'.

'He said that?'

'Yeah. Around a week before he died. He knew he was going for over a year'.

'A year?'

'At least. Leukemia is pretty damn remorseless. Once you've got it, you know the jig is up'.

'Leukemia?' I said, sounding shocked. 'But he had no history...'

'Yeah - it just came out of nowhere. Like most catastrophes'.

'So Jack wasn't in Boston on business?'

'No - he was at Mass General Hospital, under the care of some big-cheese blood specialist - one of the best in the country. He was trying some last-ditch treatment to save him. But as the doc told me around a week before Jack went, he was beyond treatment'.

'At least Steele and Sherwood was picking up the bill'.

'Are you kidding me? Steele and Sherwood didn't pay a penny of his medical costs'.

'But he told me he was going back to work for them... that they had him on sick leave'.

'That's because he didn't want to tell you the truth'.

'What truth?'

'They fired him two years ago'.

I reached for the whiskey glass and took a long drink.

'But he was one of their star executives', I said.

'Yeah', Meg said. ' Was. Until he fell apart after...'

She hesitated a minute.

'All right: I'll give it to you straight, Sara. After Eric died and you refused to deal with him, Jack had something of a breakdown. He stopped sleeping, he lost a lot of weight, he started showing up for meetings looking unshaven and sloppy. Once or twice - he actually broke down in front of clients. To their credit, Steele and Sherwood were pretty understanding. After around eight months of this kind of wayward behavior, they put him on sick leave, and actually dispatched him to a psychiatrist at the company's expense. Everyone thought he was getting better. But we were wrong'.

'Was that when you wrote me in Paris?'

'Yes. That is when I wrote you'.

One letter. One short, generous letter was all that was asked of me. And I couldn't bring myself even to do that. Pride is the most blinding and self-indulgent of all emotions.

'Anyway', Meg said, 'during his few weeks back at work, everyone thought that he was returning to his old self. But he couldn't pull it off. He started missing meetings, and seemed unable to close any deal. They put up with him for another six months, then finally called him in one day and asked him to clear his desk. Again, they were decent with him: six months' severance pay, and health care benefits for a year. But he was now completely unemployable - especially as he sank back into a depression after they laid him off. At least Kate's birth picked him up a bit - but right after she came along, he started looking very anemic, and the lymph nodes in his neck began to bulge. I kept telling him that he shouldn't worry - that his body was reacting to all the stress he'd been under. But personally, I feared the worst. So did Jack. And when the diagnosis finally came...'

She broke off and reached for the Scotch bottle. Both our glasses were topped up.

'I have to tell you', she said, 'that Dorothy was amazing through most of this. Given that she really couldn't stand my brother - that the whole marriage was a massive mistake, and she truly loathed everything about his life with you - she still stuck by him. Right to the end'.

'He told me that she threw him out after he testified in Washington'.

'Yes - she was pretty appalled at him for cooperating with the Committee... especially when she found out how it triggered your brother's death. Worst yet, she couldn't stomach seeing him so broken by the fact that he'd lost you. Not that I could blame her. But eventually - after a lot of talking from me - she let him come home. Because, deep down, I think she hated being on her own. Not that she would have anything to do with him in a "marital" way again - except for one drunken night, which is how Kate appeared on the scene'.

'He did mention that'.

'Well, what he probably didn't mention was that his severance pay was all spent after six months. Then Kate arrived, then the leukemia was diagnosed - but by that time, his health insurance had run out. So the last year of his life was a complete financial disaster. He had a little stock - but he had to sell all that to pay his doctor's bills. It really got bad for a while. So bad that I've been paying their rent for the last three months. And - between the Mass General Hospital tab and the funeral - Dorothy's looking at about eight thousand dollars' worth of debt... not to mention the little problem of now raising two kids on her own'.

I took another needed sip of whiskey.

'I feel this is all my fault', I said.

'That's dumb - and you know it'.

'But I should have written him that letter you wanted me to write'.

'Yes - you should have done that. But would it have stopped him from falling apart again? Who the hell knows? He still blamed himself for Eric. And as for his illness... Sara, despite what some dimestore romantic novelists might like to think, a broken heart has never caused leukemia. Jack collided with his genetic fate. It's as simple as that'.

'But if I had forgiven him years ago...'

'Now is it you who wants absolution?'

'I was wrong'.

'I'll agree with that. But so was Jack. And yeah - for a while I really loathed you for not helping him when he needed you'.

'Not now?'

She crushed out her cigarette, and instantly lit up another. 'I've lost my brother, my only sibling. Just like you've lost yours. So hate's rather pointless under the circumstances, isn't it? Anyway, you meeting him a couple of weeks ago meant a lot to him'.

'If only he'd told me exactly how sick he was'.

'What good would that have done? Anyway, he was right not to tell you. Just as I also know that, in all those letters he wrote to you, he never once mentioned his breakdown, or getting fired. He had his dignity, Jack. More to the point, he felt he'd burdened you enough - and that he didn't want to make you feel guilty. All he kept telling me - over and over again - was how much he missed you, and how sorry he was'.

'I never read the letters'.

'You could now'.

'I threw them out'.

Meg shrugged.

'He loved you, Sara. You should have seen his face whenever he talked about you. It was goddamn incandescent. I'd never seen anything like it. Didn't understand it, to be honest - because I'd never felt that way about anyone. All right, he could be something of a fuck-up, my brother. He made some terrible calls. He didn't know how to face up to big decisions. He had an awful habit of losing his nerve. And God, how he hated himself for failing you twice. And for failing Eric. Just as he also hated himself for failing Dorothy and the kids. But I also know that, at heart, he was just stumbling through like the rest of us. Trying his best. It may not have amounted to much. But, at least, he truly loved you. Without condition. And how often in life does that ever happen?'

I knew the answer to that question - but I didn't articulate it. Because I just couldn't.

'Would you do something for me?' I finally asked.

'I doubt it. But, go on - try me'.

'I want you to ask Dorothy to meet me'.

'Forget it. I may not hate you anymore. She does. She always has. And now... now the lady's got enough problems to handle without trying to forgive you. Which - I promise you - she never will'.

'I don't want her forgiveness. I just want to...'

'I don't care what you want to do. There is absolutely no way that my sister-in-law will ever agree to meet you'.