Richard Russo - That Old CapeMagic

“Yeah, well… you just better hope I never see you again,” he repeated. Griffin ’s ready concurrence had apparently thrown him off track, and he was now trying to get back on as best he could.

“Where are you these days? Just so I know where not to go.”

“I’m stationed in Honolulu.”

“Okay, then. That’s easy enough.”

“I got a leave coming up, though. How about I fly to L.A. and kick your ass?”

“I’m going to hang up now, Jared.”

“You’re probably thinking I don’t know where you live, but I can find out. Don’t think I can’t.”

“I live on Bellwood Terrace. The Caprice. Apartment E- 217.”

“I have my ways.”

“Good night, Jared.”

He hadn’t heard from either twin since, but was happy to hear they’d agreed to a truce during the wedding.

“I told them if they didn’t chill, they couldn’t come, and they both promised,” Joy went on. “I just hope you can tell them apart when you see them, because it pisses them both off when people get it wrong. Especially now that Jason’s out of the service and has some hair.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

“There’ll be lots of kids. Try not to look like you hate them.”

Yes, by all means , his mother chimed in, startling him. Pretend .

Shut up, Mom .

“And you know about the ceremony, right? That there’s a minister? Nothing in your face, but God will be invoked.”

“Which?”

The Protestant one. The god of gated communities and domino theories. Jesus. With a J, like the rest of them.

Best to ignore her, Griffin decided. Telling her to shut up had never worked in life, either. “You don’t have to worry about me, Joy. I’ll behave.”

“I know you will,” she said. “I just…”

“What?”

“Well, I guess I wish we could’ve found a way to…”

“Keep it together one more year?”

“But we didn’t, did we?”

“My fault, not yours.”

She looked off into the distance, her eyes filling, then gathered herself. “There’s one question I have to ask.”

“Shoot.”

She took his hand lightly. “Are you going to be able to write these checks? Tonight and tomorrow?”

“I said I would.” Though in truth he was a little worried. He’d taken twenty-five K out of his retirement, hoping that would do the trick and trying not to panic as the guest list grew. Last week he’d taken out another ten just to be sure.

“You also said you weren’t working.”

What he’d actually said was that writing assignments had been few and far between since he and Tommy had been fired off the cable picture, and of course there was his mother. After the first heart attack, he’d returned to Indiana several times, trying to make his visits coincide with her major transitions-from the hospital to a rehab facility, then back home with hospice volunteers and, finally, to the hospice wing of the hospital and full nursing care.

In January he’d picked up a couple of film-school classes, adjunct status, so the pay was for shit, but it was something. He had a new agent, Tommy’s, but all she’d come up with was a quickie dialogue rewrite. This he’d done on his own. Since he’d moved out of Tommy’s place, they’d seen little of each other. They occasionally met for a drink, but Tommy always made some excuse to call it an early night. Griffin knew his old friend was at a loss to understand why Griffin didn’t just tuck his tail between his legs and go home and beg Joy’s forgiveness, as husbands in his circumstance invariably did, if they had any brains. “You want to end up alone?” he asked one night. “Is that it?” No, it wasn’t, but Griffin was hard-pressed to articulate what it was, exactly.

“I just don’t want any embarrassment for Laura,” Joy was saying. “I can help if-”

“No, I should be fine,” he told her. “Mom actually left some money.” Though this wasn’t true, either, really. Her insurance had just about covered the hospital and nursing-home expenses, the cost of cremation. He’d sold a few of her books and given the rest away. Her laptop and printer and a few pieces of furniture had netted a couple grand. His father had left the world in about the same financial condition. Not much to show for a life, he couldn’t help thinking, though Thoreau would have been pleased. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.

“Were you able to get Dad’s ashes from my office?”

“Yes, but can we do that later?”

“Of course.”

Laura was waiting for them in the hotel foyer, her eyes full, Andy at her side. The expression on the young man’s face was frank puzzlement, and Griffin couldn’t imagine why until it dawned on him that halfway across the parking lot, without realizing it, he’d taken Joy’s hand.

“Daddy,” his daughter said, choking on the word, and Griffin was glad he could think of nothing to say because he was incapable of the slightest utterance.

“I don’t have a doubt in the world about that boy,” Laura assured him as they entered the maze.

She and Andy had just parted as if it would be an eternity before they saw each other again, and she now turned to wave goodbye one last time before her fiancé and her mother disappeared from sight. His daughter’s idea that the two of them go for a stroll in the maze seemed to surprise neither Joy nor Andy, and that made Griffin apprehensive. Had they all thought further about Griffin ’s presence at the wedding and decided against it? Did Laura plan to explain this to him among the tall yews, far from witnesses, in case he objected or broke down in tears? But of course he knew better than that, so he took a deep breath and told himself to relax. Laura’s need for a private, father-daughter moment wasn’t about him or the myriad ways he’d failed her and her mother since Kelsey’s wedding. She was just a bride, and fatherly reassurance was part of the program. Enjoy it. Who knew how long it would be before his presence was deemed necessary again?

“Andy’s terrific, darlin’,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and feeling a wave of gratitude when she allowed herself to be drawn toward him. “It’s hard to imagine anyone more smitten, except for your old man, of course.” He meant this to elicit a smile, but it seemed to make his daughter even more thoughtful, and for a time they were quiet, turning first left, then right, then left again among the hedges, until he was good and lost.

“I guess the one I worry about is me,” she finally said. “What if I end up hurting him?”

“Why would you do that?” he said, feeling another wave of guilt. Would his daughter have harbored such self-doubt this time last year, or was it his doing?

A park bench had been thoughtfully placed near what Griffin guessed must be the far end, and here they took a seat. It was darker in the maze, very little of the remaining daylight penetrating its black branches, and Griffin was visited by a childish, irrational fear that they wouldn’t be able to find their way out. Laura would miss her wedding and that, too, would be his doing. He took her hand, unsure whether he meant to dispense comfort or receive it.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not who people think you are?” she said. “Like you’re pretending to be this person that people like? And the worst part is they all believe you?”

“Only every day,” he admitted. “Unless I’m mistaken, that feeling’s what people mean by original sin. Only sociopaths are spared. Trouble is, if you take it to heart you’ll never do anything, never pursue any happiness, for fear of hurting people.”

“I should ignore it?”

“Everybody else does.”

She seemed only partially convinced. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Grandma lately,” she said.