Daniel Rose - Larry's Kidney, Being the True Story of How I Found Myself in China

My mind tunes him out, because I’m thinking about why he couldn’t find the TV plug-that’s not like the Larry I remember. His phlegmatic exterior has always masked a razor-sharp brain, but is something more wrong with him? Is his physical deterioration only half the story? I watch the cleaning lady on her hands and knees in the bathroom, scrubbing the floor around the toilet. She really throws herself into it, a big woman made even bigger by the coat she’s bundled up in, a suede-and-sheepskin affair that just about doubles her mass. When I tune back in, Larry’s still going: how a transplant is a treatment not a cure, how even the best outcome means he’ll be on expensive antirejection drugs forever, how he won’t settle for being an invalid in a chair.

“Larry,” I say, “you have to realize this is your depression talking.”

“Yeah, well, if it’s talking, I’m listening,” he says morosely. Then flashes a milky-mild smile that makes him look a little like the Mona Lisa. “Of course, I could run out of cookies at any moment, and then my life will be a moot point,” he says, reaching into the suitcase at his feet, where I glimpse several boxes of Girl Scout cookies. “You didn’t think I was going to chance eating the native cuisine, did you?” he asks, offering me a Caramel de Lite. “So how’s your hotel? Classier than this one, I assume.”

“Only because the magazine’s paying for it,” I say. I’m a little embarrassed for my better circumstances, and hope I’m not giving off the scent of chamomile. “It’s the same one I stayed in twenty-five years ago, though a lot nicer this time, I have to say.”

“That the one where the coffee was so bad?”

“You have an amazing memory, Larry.”

“I remember everything you ever told me, Dan. I look up to you, you’re my big cousin. Matter of fact, wasn’t that where you shtupped a stewardess on the rooftop?”

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

“Okay, I can see by your face that was a lifetime ago,” he says. “You don’t want to be reminded of your divorce days. I just want to show how much you’ve always meant to me, not that your wife ever needs to know. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, as far as I’m concerned. And you can quote me.”

“I think you must have misheard me, Larry.”

“I don’t believe so, Dan. You told me a lot of stuff in those days. But in your defense I ought to say that you were hitting the hooch pretty hard back then, Dan. I’m glad you stopped. What was the final straw, don’t mind my asking?”

“Larry, let’s try very hard to keep this on you.”

“Good idea. And now that we’re clear about your colorful past, maybe it’s time I come clean and mention one other little thing I neglected to say until now.”

The cleaning lady moves from the toilet to the sink fixtures: scrub, scrub, scrub.

“I know transplants are illegal, Larry. You already leveled with me.”

“Took me long enough, though. I was pretty nervous, trufe be told.”

“I understand. You didn’t want me to take it the wrong way.”

“I’m glad you accept me with my flaws, Dan.”

“I…uh…do.”

“That means a great deal to me. So by the same token, there’s one other thing I don’t want you to take the wrong way either. You can see how visibly nervous I am all over again.”

“Just spit it out,” I say. “What am I going to do, bite your head off? I’ve come all this way to help.”

“And you are helping, just by being here. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is, your presence alone.”

“I’m glad, Larry. So?”

“I’m getting married.”

“Larry, congratulations,” I say, so relieved it wasn’t bad news that I have to stop myself from giving him a hug. “Why would I get mad at that? That’s wonderful news!”

He looks as pleased as a box turtle given a fly carcass to munch on. “You were right as usual, Dan. I didn’t have to be nervous after all. Thank you for supporting me.”

“Wow, a lifelong bachelor getting hitched after all these years.”

He accelerates his monotone just a bit. “Yes, I’m very excited about her,” he continues. “I’ve never been with someone who shares so many of my values. She doesn’t drink, doesn’t gamble, doesn’t run around. She’s basically stable, like I am. It’s like we’re in sync. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

“I’m thrilled for you, Larry. So when’d you meet her?”

“Well, it’s in process,” Larry says. “I think it only prudent that I spend a little time with her first.”

There’s silence for a moment while the only sound is the scrub, scrub, scrub of the brush gnawing at the faucet.

“Larry, are you telling me you’re meeting her here for the first time? That this was another reason you wanted to come to China?”

“Dan, I can’t believe you of all people would expect me to marry someone sight unseen. Plus which, your opinion of her is very important to me, Dan. You’ve always been an excellent judge of character.”

He registers the expression on my face.

“Besides,” he says, “don’t act like I didn’t give you fair warning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“On your chairlift, Dan. I distinctly remember you mishearing me.”

“Larry, it wasn’t the best connection in the world. I could barely make out-”

“When you thought I was feeling merry.”

A pause while something irreparable snaps in my brain.

“Larry, maybe I half heard you but it certainly didn’t register. There was a lot coming at me then.”

“I grant you there may have been some psychological blocking on your part-‘merry,’ ‘marry,’ plus her name is ‘Mary’-it was a lot to take in.”

Speech fails me. I sink into a chair.

“Well, anyway,” he says, “who the hell cares, as you like to say. Besides which, I wouldn’t want to burden an upper-caste person such as yourself with crass commercial concerns, but it would have been fiscally irresponsible of me to shell out for a ticket to come all this way and not get my money’s worth, see what I’m saying? Doesn’t a twofer sound like a better deal? Get a kidney and throw in a bride for free. One from Column A, one from Column B. (And I trust that’s not a racist thing to say, because racist is the last thing I want to be, under the circumstances. I’m a guest of the Chinese, they’re not a guest of me. Notice I’m making a concerted effort never to use the word ‘Chink’ while we’re over here.)”

“That’s good of you. But, Larry,” I say, trying to sound out my words clearly, “you misrepresented the situation.”

“I fudged, Dan. Let’s not pussyfoot around or make it sound prettier than it was. I fudged, fair and square, but do you honestly think you would have gotten on that plane if I’d kept you in the loop? It was for your own good, in a way. You would have been riddled with doubt if I hadn’t protected you from the trufe.”

I look around to turn up the air conditioner but see there isn’t one. No wonder I’m sweating through my clothes.

“Don’t look at me that way, Dan. Am I commenting on your goatee and earring, distasteful as I may or may not find them? I realize you’re a different person from the way we were as kids. Live and let live, that’s my motto. We all gotta eat.”

“I could get very mad at you now, Larry.”

“And I could point out to you, Dan, hopefully not for the first time, not to get mad at the messenger. Would you prefer I continue to spring nuffing but half-trufes on you, so pretty soon you know even less whether you’re coming or going?”

He’s right, I don’t want that. I’m having enough trouble telling what I’m doing. Am I daydreaming again, or am I really hearing him say that Mary advertised herself on candeyblossoms.com as “a petite thirty-five-year-old professor of architecture at a prestigious university with great command of the English language and a six-year-old ballerina daughter who’s cute as a button”? Is he really telling me that he especially loves the ballerina part because of how much he loves kids, he’s got like a dozen godchildren including one from a dean at his college who’s a nun, couldn’t have her own kids but adopted one from Ecuador, who more or less authorized an all-purpose recommendation letter that he carries on his person everywhere he goes? “This is to certify that Larry Feldman is a highly respected intellectual with advanced degrees in mediation/negotiation and a license to practice the art of real estate in countless American states. Any assistance you extend this VIP will be devoutly appreciated in the highest circles.” And that he took as inspiration the notes I forged in high school to get out of detention?