The Grown Ups Read online

  “What’s happening there?”

  “With my father?” Suzie shook her head hard and felt her ponytail loosen from the elastic. “We’ve seen each other twice.” She hesitated, reaching up to secure the wad of thick curls at the base of her neck. “I’m trying.” She shrugged and then admitted, “Not as hard as I should.” She held her coffee cup up and allowed the steam to warm her face. “It’s the age-old story, right? The doctor can heal everyone but herself. I spend all day talking to people about relationships, unraveling the threads, repairing, making amends. And I can’t seem to get there.”

  Bella put her arm around Suzie’s shoulders and squeezed. “Life was so much simpler when we had nothing to do but hang out at the pool and check out the cute boys.” She frowned. “You feel too skinny. You need more meat on your bones.”

  “You sound like Sam.”

  “What can I say? He’s rubbing off on me. I’m going to get him to cook for you.”

  Suzie laughed. “Aren’t we basically still checking out the same boys?” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back.” She and Bella stood and gathered their trash. They hugged goodbye and Suzie ran back across the street, dodging a glut of taxis at the curb. At the sliding doors she stopped and looked back. Bella was still standing there watching her. They grinned and waved and then Suzie slipped inside the hospital.

  She could hear their voices as soon as she entered the restaurant. Michael had left Suzie and Leo with Marguerite and Hunt at the house and said he was going to see Sam. That was three hours ago and he wasn’t answering his cell phone.

  Suzie left Leo with Marguerite and decided to find out what was going on. She pretended to Marguerite that Michael had called and asked her to meet him at the restaurant. Suzie didn’t know if she was very convincing, but she didn’t want Marguerite to worry about anything else.

  The brothers were surprised when she walked into the kitchen. Neither pretended to be happy, neither of them smiled. They were on either side of a stainless steel table. Michael was still wearing his coat, despite the kitchen’s being overly warm, and his face and neck were flushed a deep red. Sam, in a T-shirt and apron, busied himself with chopping a pile of celery and onions into a fine dice. Michael looked down at the table and watched the blade of the knife move up and down.

  “It’s starting to snow,” Suzie said. The heat in the kitchen hit her like a wall of fire. “What’s going on?”

  “I was telling Sam I supported Marguerite’s idea of selling the house.”

  Sam’s head came up sharply and he gave Michael a look that implied that was the very simple version of whatever had been going on between them. Suzie looked from one to the other of the brothers. “Did you have another idea, Sam?”

  “No, no, I obviously will support whatever Marguerite wants to do. I just feel like taking Dad out of the last familiar place he knows, well, it’s like we are saying this is the end.”

  Michael tapped the table with his index finger. His voice was scratchy and he sounded exhausted. “That’s not going to make a difference. His doctor—”

  “I’m tired of hearing the bullshit doctor excuse. Be his son, okay? I know what I see. I’m here more than you.” Sam bit his lip. “I’m not willing to say this is it.”

  “Michael.” Suzie jumped in, putting a hand on her husband’s arm. “I know what Sam is saying and you do too. He sees Hunt’s comfort level, and the familiar makes it easier.” She stopped and then said, “But, Sam, you know, we all know, his disease is degenerative. With a schedule of its own unique genetic making. For all that we do know, we really know nothing.”

  “He’s comfortable now as he goes in and out,” Michael said. “But soon—”

  “Comfortable?” Sam shook his head. “Let’s wait until we get to ‘soon’ and then decide.” Sam pointed his knife at Michael. “You have no idea how long. No one knows.”

  Michael hung his head. “You’re right. But if we wait too late to start the process, it’s going to be worse.” He looked over at Suzie, then back at Sam. “I’m the last guy who wants to give up, Sammy,” he added softly.

  Suzie watched Sam’s shoulders sag. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to get between the brothers. They both had a point. They both were right. They both were stubborn. “Is Bella back yet?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  Sam gave her a quick smile. “It’s the night before break and she was going out for drinks, so probably not until later.”

  Michael turned to her and asked, “Is Leo okay?”

  Suzie nodded. “When I left the house Marguerite was down on the floor chasing him and he was giggling.”

  Michael and Sam both broke into easy smiles at the mention of Leo.

  “I’m starved,” Suzie said. “Are we getting food from you?” she asked Sam.

  “It’s all ready to go.” Sam pointed to the walk-in coolers.

  “Aren’t you coming to eat with us?” She looked over at Michael and widened her eyes.

  “Dude,” Michael said. “Come on, Sammy.”

  “You only love me for my food.” Sam squinted at him; there was a slight smile on his lips. “I need some time to wrap it all up here.”

  Suzie turned to Michael. “Why don’t you take Marguerite’s car and I’ll help Sam? Go spend some time with Hunt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Suzie nodded. She wanted to give the brothers space so they wouldn’t walk into the house with the stale air of their argument. “We’ll be there soon, go on.”

  Michael came close to give her a hug and Suzie could feel the heat rising off his body. He put a hand on her hip and she leaned into him as he pressed his lips against her forehead. He looked over at Sam and shrugged. “I don’t mean to come off as a dick.”

  “You just are,” Sam shot back with a grin. “Tell Marguerite to put the oven on three hundred and fifty degrees.”

  “Okay,” Michael said. He headed for the door. When he was halfway out he said, over his shoulder, “Takes one to know one.” As the door swung closed Suzie could hear him laughing.

  Suzie smiled at Sam, who shook his head, but he was chuckling too. However differently Michael and Sam saw the world, now they seemed to find a way to come together in the end. Ever since Leo had been born, really ever since that day Sam had rushed her to the hospital, something had changed about the way the three of them saw one another. Suzie wasn’t sure if Sam had ever forgiven her for what a brat she had been at fifteen, but at least it didn’t feel as if it was always the only thing between them anymore.

  “What can I do?” Suzie asked.

  Sam scooped the onions and celery into a bowl and was fitting a film of plastic wrap over the top. He directed her to the walk-in, where she removed two pans of lasagna, one vegetable and one traditional. When she came back Sam had loaded bread and salad and squat plastic containers of oil and vinegar into a large basket lined with linen towels. They put it all in the back of Sam’s dented Subaru.

  It was really snowing now, and Suzie was glad she and Michael had left the city earlier than they originally had intended. Snow would only complicate the night-before-Thanksgiving crunch. Sam drove slowly, crouched over the wheel as if he were too tall for the car. The wipers were going at full speed, but even so the snow stuck to the windshield, making visibility difficult. It was probably less than four miles to the house, but they were crawling forward so slowly it felt as if they were moving backward. Suzie could hear the rumble of the salt trucks and the plows, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  Suzie looked over at Sam. “Crazy, huh? How did this happen so fast?”

  Sam squinted at the windshield and turned up the defroster. “Haven’t you noticed that’s how life is?” He shrugged. “All the good things happen fast.”

  Suzie nodded slowly and looked out the side window. She had left her cell phone in Marguerite’s car and she knew that Sam didn’t carry one. “Well, at least we won’t starve.”

  Sam laughed. “Right.”

  S
uzie shifted in her seat. “The last time you gave me a ride it was to the hospital.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure, when are we ever alone together?” After she said it there was an awkward silence between them. Suzie hadn’t meant anything by it, but now it was out there. She paused, searching for something to say. “Do you think Bella will make it home?”

  “Of course, why not?” Sam frowned, still staring intently at the windshield. “This won’t last forever.”

  “You are so calm.”

  “What?” Sam looked at her quickly before focusing his attention back on the road. “No, I’m just being logical: this can’t last forever. Bella will come home. Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving, I’ll bring the turkey, my dad will call me Michael.”

  “Really? Hunt calls you Michael?”

  Sam rapped his fingertips on the steering wheel. “Some days are better than others. But there are times that no matter what I say or do, he insists I’m Michael and I know I have to just give up. He refuses to believe he has a son named Sam.”

  “He has a son named Sam. We all know that.”

  “Tell that to my father.” Sam grinned. “I’m kidding.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Suzie paused. “What ever happened to those pictures?”

  “What?”

  Suzie cleared her throat. “The pictures of all the neighborhood moms. Michael told me once, a very long time ago, that you got rid of the pictures.”

  Sam opened his mouth and then closed it. He sighed. “I picked them up. My mother was calling my name and the last thing I wanted was for her to come out of the house and see the pictures. I didn’t know yet. I didn’t know she had decided that day to leave us and that she was getting the luggage out for herself, not for what I thought was some surprise vacation. So I ran down the steps off the porch and just started picking them up.”

  Suzie stared at him, openmouthed. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Sam and Michael’s mother had left the same day Suzie and her family had. Had her father known that?

  “I picked up the box from the road and I just ran from one to the other of the photos until I had them all. Don’t ask me how I knew I did, but I guess it was because of all the times we had looked at them.”

  Suzie felt the shame of those afternoons in her old basement creep up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We were kids,” Sam said. “I don’t blame you.”

  Floored by Sam’s kindness, Suzie said nothing.

  “Lucky for me, and for you, I suppose, all hell broke loose that afternoon when my mother put her suitcases in the car and told my father she was leaving. No one paid any attention to me for weeks. Believe me, the shoebox of photos was nothing. A few weeks later my father and I went up to Paradox and I took the box up there with me.”

  “Are they—?”

  “No.” The car lurched forward as Sam stepped on the gas. Suzie put a hand on the dashboard as the seat belt cut across her shoulder. The car in front of them had finally turned. The snow was getting lighter. Suzie could actually read the street signs: three more blocks to go.

  “What did you do?”

  “I forgot about them, as crazy it sounds, until a few weekends before high school graduation. Michael, my father, and I had gone up there for one last hurrah.” He looked over at Suzie. “They had been stuck in the back of a drawer where I guess I had shoved them. I put them in the fire pit and lit a match.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Poof.”

  They turned into the driveway. The way the snow had fallen it appeared as if the walks and roof were dusted in frosting. All the lights in the house were on. Suzie could see movement behind the curtains and she imagined Michael and Leo waiting for her. She looked at Sam. He was hunched over the steering wheel, peering up at the house. She imagined he was thinking about Hunt and Michael and maybe even Elizabeth, and about all the life they had lived inside those walls.

  She saw them as they were that day. Fifteen and so unsure of everything and at the same time so cocky. She remembered what it had been like to cross the street and walk up those porch steps to hand him the envelope. Her knees had been shaky; she thought she might throw up. When he had hugged her she didn’t want to let go. She wanted to hide. She wanted to run to Bella. She wanted to tell Sam everything as much as she wanted to destroy the evidence. She knew it wasn’t going to work in Massachusetts. It wasn’t going to work anywhere. Everything, all of it, had been some cruel joke.

  “Hey,” Sam said, touching her on the elbow. “It’s all okay.”

  Suzie blinked. “It is?”

  “Absolutely.” He slipped the keys out of the ignition. “You ready?”

  Suzie nodded. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to hug her husband and her son. She reached over and touched Sam on the cheek. She said nothing because there was nothing left to say. They looked at each other for a minute and then Suzie dropped her hand and fumbled with the door handle. Sam got out his side, opened the trunk, and handed Suzie the pans of lasagna. He took the basket and she followed behind him, tracing his footsteps through the snowy walk up the porch steps and to the front door.

  NINETEEN

  Home

  Sam—2012

  Sam’s mother and father were together on a bench in the backyard. For the longest time they had been sitting there quietly without moving or talking. His mother held his father’s hand in her lap. Sam had no idea what they had to say to each other after all these years, or even if his father had any level of understanding. Perhaps this would be the one time in recent days and months when the pieces of his mind had reshuffled in his favor.

  Above him Sam heard Marguerite’s footsteps in the bedroom. The master suite was directly over the kitchen. It had been Marguerite who suggested they include Sam’s mother in Leo’s first birthday celebration. Sam wondered now if she was regretting that invitation.

  From the living room Sam heard Bella making her best effort to entertain Tom. As fellow writers and teachers they seemed to be comparing notes in a genial manner.

  Sam checked his time. On the large kitchen island he had placed the containers of food they had transported from the restaurant: orzo salad, beet salad, red potatoes in a lemon dill sauce, tomato jam, homemade spicy mayo, a sweet mustard, garlic pickles from Delancey, a selection of cheese, including Elizabeth’s goat cheese, spiced nuts, and platters of fruit. In the refrigerator Sam had placed tequila-lime marinated chicken and a couple of dozen patties made from a blend of pork, veal, and beef, all from a farm in the Catskills. There were also brown paper sacks of cornmeal-dusted rolls that looked like miniature crowns; Sam had thought they would delight the birthday boy, who had just a few teeth and gums of steel.

  Michael had called to say that they were running late. They were bringing Suzie’s mother with them and Leo had taken a longer nap than expected. They wanted him happy for the party so they had let him sleep. Truthfully, Sam had never seen Leo unhappy. He was a little Buddha of a baby, as pleased to be passed to strangers as he was in his mother’s arms. Even left on his own plopped on a blanket with a circle of toys, he greeted everyone and everything as if it had the capacity to bring him joy.

  Everyone had wanted to do something for Leo and Suzie’s shared birthday. Ruthie and Mindy were in charge of the birthday cake, while Peter Chang and Frankie Cole wanted to handle refreshments and decorations. Celia was planning on playing the guitar and singing a song, with words provided by Bella. Johnny was bringing some surprise guests that he promised would be leaving with him and wouldn’t eat any of the food, whatever that meant. Sam checked the time again and hoped some of them would be arriving soon.

  Sam picked up two large galvanized buckets and carried them out to the patio. He had brought several cases of the handmade sodas he ordered from a place in Williamsburg and used at the restaurant, and he filled one tub with the wavy glass bottles of sassafras, grapefruit, and mulberry fizz. He tried hard not to stare over at his parents, but his mother caught him looking and gave a small nod of ac
knowledgment. Sam ripped open the bags of ice and the contents crashed loudly into the tin, but neither of them looked over at him again. He rearranged the bottles and pulled the buckets under the awning and out of the sun before going back inside.

  To keep busy Sam stacked plates and bowls on a wheeled cart, also tucking in a caddy of silverware. On the bottom shelf he added serving utensils, napkins, and a pile of platters. As he was readying to push it all outside he saw Peter Chang standing in the center of the backyard, holding a clutch of strings attached to helium balloons in a rainbow of colors.

  Sam opened the glass door and Peter gave him a helpless look. “I can’t let go,” he said.

  Sam laughed. “Yeah, so start tying them to anything.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t let go.”

  “Where’s Frankie?”

  “We had to take two cars. Have you ever driven with twenty-four balloons?”

  “Why twenty-four?”

  Peter shrugged. “Because they sold them in groups of six?” Classic Peter logic. Sam pictured Peter huddled over the steering wheel of his old Honda surrounded by balloons. He took a handful of the balloons and followed Peter around the backyard, freeing him to begin tying them to random chairs, the pool railing, and the fence.

  From the driveway someone was lying on a horn. Peter said, “It’s probably Mindy. She said they were going to need help with the cake.”

  Sam and Peter walked around the outside of the house to the driveway. Mindy was standing at the back of Ruthie’s car with the hatchback open. Ruthie was still behind the wheel, but on her phone. She waved to them and continued talking. Celia was in the backseat with a guitar in her lap, soundlessly mouthing words and strumming. She waved too but didn’t move to get out. Mindy peered around the car and frowned. She looked pretty close to tears.