Claire Voyant (8 page)

It's funny what happens when you show someone a picture of an unattractive subject. They want to be polite, but honestly, what can you say about an ugly baby, for instance, or in the case of my family, a short, dumpy, curly-headed quartet?

“I'm sure they're very nice people,” he offered. “But it's funny. You look nothing like them.”

“Ya think? Actually, the big joke in my family is that I was born to aliens from the planet Spend-on-Me.”

“Hey, that's where Marly's from…just kidding. But no, really. There's no family resemblance here at all.”

“Yeah, but I inherited other things. Like my dad's ability to make a bad situation worse.”

“No way. That runs in my family, too. If you say one wrong thing to my mother, she never lets you hear the end of it. Then three days later she's still on your case, and you can't even remember what the hell you said in the first place. Drives me nuts.”

“Oh, I know. If, God forbid, you tell my mother the steak was tough, she'll make you eat it every night for the next week until you swear up and down that A-1 should name a sauce after her.”

Drew laughed. “My dad thinks the reason I studied genetics in college was to figure out how I could possibly be related to her.”

“Lot more to it than forty-six chromosomes.” I stirred my straw.

“You got that right…. Actually, it's not that unusual for offspring to more closely resemble grandparents, aunts, uncles. I bet you look like one of them.”

“Oh God. I hope not my Aunt Marilyn, my father's sister. She's got less hair on her head than on her face.”

I really didn't mean to say anything that mean, let alone at the exact moment Drew downed a glass of water, for he laughed so hard, it sprayed through his nose and mouth.

“So then after podiatry school you went to charm school?” I teased.

Now I was laughing so hard, my sides ached. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had this much fun. And it was just a guess, but he looked like neither could he.

I
N A MILLION YEARS
I
NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT
D
REW'S BIG
secret, the thing he had to show and tell me, was his grandfather's apartment in this brand-new assisted living center in Coral Gables. In fact, he was practically giddy when we pulled up. Maybe he thought that since Abe and I had become fast friends, I'd want to learn more about him. But that did not explain why, when we checked in with the security guard, he introduced me as his cousin from New York.

“Your cousin?” I said as we walked through the marble-tiled atrium lobby.

“Trust me, it's easier this way. Everyone here knows Marly….”

“Am I a younger cousin or an older cousin?”

“Why, Claire—you're the baby in the family. The late-in-life accident.”

“Gee. I really am starting to feel like a member of the family. When I checked in at La Guardia this morning, the gate agent thought Abe was my grandfather.”

“How come?”

“I guess because our seats were next to each other. Oh, and she even said we looked alike.”

“Could be worse,” Drew said. “At least she didn't think you were his wife.”

 

Drew was right. Abe's apartment was worth seeing. The rooms were bright and spacious, the living room overlooked a large lagoon, and the kitchen appliances were so new, the manufacturers' labels had yet to be removed.

What I loved best, though, was the absence of old-people smell. That mysterious sour odor that smacked you in the face when you walked into a room with heavy, decrepit postwar furniture. Everything here was magically clean and stinky-free.

“I'll take it,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Good,” he replied.

“What?”

“That's what I needed to tell you. The thing I found out when I came over here before.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Your grandmother. You said she was looking for an assisted living center. She could move into this one.”

“What? Oh no. No, no, no, no. I mean, the place is beautiful, don't get me wrong. It's perfect, in fact. But she's on a fixed income. I'm sure the rent would be—”

“Taken care of,” Drew said. “She wouldn't have to pay a dime.”

“I don't understand. Was she the hundredth caller?”

“No. See, when I went down to the office before, they pulled up Pops' records, and it showed he was only here about six weeks, but apparently paid for a whole year up front, which surprised the hell out of us because we weren't sure he was going to stay. Anyway, I got to thinking. Why let the place sit empty? Claire's trying to help her grandmother find an apartment just like this.”

“You mean they won't give you your money back?”

“No refunds after thirty days.”

“Are you serious? You should sue.”

“I'm joking.” Drew cupped my chin. “Of course we could break the lease.”

“But you don't want to?”

“To be honest, it's not like my family needs the money. Anyway, I mentioned the idea to my dad, and he said it's exactly the kind of
thing Pops would have done, and if she's happy here, we'll just set it up so his estate pays her expenses as long as she stays.”

“Oh my God,” I cried. “Oh my God.” I was literally shaking.
Didn't I wish for this kind of miracle only an hour ago?

“Those are the good kind of tears, right? Sometimes with Marly I get them mixed up.”

I nodded yes. “This is unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

“Do you think she'd like it here? They do an awful lot for the residents. They take them to the movies, to the doctor…”

“Are you kidding?” I started to walk around, surveying the apartment from the perspective of a
kvetchy
tenant. It was huge compared to where Grams lived now. Plenty of closets, a large bathroom—no, wait, two bathrooms, one adjoining the bedroom and another down the hall. And what was this? A second room? It was smaller, but Abe had set it up as a den with a pull-out couch. Perfectly suitable for a guest.

“This place is amazing,” I sniffed. “What about all the furniture?”

“It'll stay. What would we do with it?…Why? You don't think she'll like it?”

“Oh no. She'll love it. It's so much nicer than what she has now.”
If you only knew
. “By any chance, do you happen to know if there is an age restriction here?”

“Probably. We just assumed she was elderly.”

“She's eighty-four.”

“That oughta do it.”

“What about thirty?”

“Who's thirty?”

“Me. Next week.”

“And you feel you're in need of assisted living?”

“Drew, right now I need all the help I can get.”

 

Nothing is more frustrating than going out of your way to do right by people, then having your good intentions bite you in the ass anyway. No matter that it had been the longest day of my life, I'd still made it my business to keep my family informed.

Three times I left detailed messages on my mother's cell. Twice I left a message on the home answering machine. Once I paged my dad. And I tried Adam's and Lindsey's cells, too, but no one bothered calling me back.

So when early the next morning my cell phone rang and I heard my mother screaming in my ear, my first question was, what was she yelling at me for? My second question was, where the hell was I? Oh yes. Grams' apartment. Sleeping on the floor of her bedroom, door locked, with a high-powered revolver under my pillow.

“What do you mean, you gave her a sleeping pill?” My mother cried. “What were you trying to do? Kill her?”

“She started it,” I whined.

“Have you lost your mind? You can't mix sleeping pills with all her medications. It could send her into cardiac arrest.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't think it was a big deal, okay? I'm sure she's fine.”

“You mean you don't know if she's fine?”

“She's still asleep on the living room floor.”

“The living room floor? What did she do? Fall again?”

“What the hell is going on down there?” My father picked up the extension in the bedroom. “I knew we shouldn't have trusted you to handle this.”

Welcome to
The Lenny and Roberta Show,
starring two crazy people who criticize me, then turn on each other.

“If you'll stop yelling at me, I'll be happy to tell you everything,” I said.

“Yeah, Lenny. Enough with the
shrying
. I want to hear what Claire has to say.”

“Who's yelling? You're the one who's yelling. Claire, tell us what happened already. You're making me late for the office.”

I sat up on my blanket. “Okay. Well, I'll spare you all the gory details about the day I had because you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'll just start with the little surprise I found after I got dropped off here last night.”

“Last night?” My mother interrupted. “What did you do all day?”

“I had the go-see with the photographer, remember? Anyway,
when Grams opened her door, all I saw were boxes, her TV, and those god-awful lawn chairs from the house in Valley Stream. Why? Because she sold every stitch of furniture, and most of her clothes. No, I stand corrected. She gave them to the super's son as a wedding present in exchange for his gun.”

“Wha'd she say?” My mother asked my father.

“A gun!” My father yelled. “She has a gun…. Claire, what kind is it?”

“Daddy, c'mon. I wouldn't know a Saturday Night Special from a Sunday brunch.”

“Wh-what does she need a gun for?” my mother stammered. “The neighborhood got so bad?”

“The neighborhood is fine. I don't know why she wanted it, but she pulled it on me.”

“What's she saying, Lenny? You know I can't hear a damn thing when you pick up in the bedroom. But why should you care? As long as you can hear.”

“I think she just said Gert pulled a gun on her.”

“
Oy,
Claire! You know how easy she gets herself all riled up. What did you say to her?”

“Oh my God. I didn't say or do anything, okay? All I did was walk in the door and ask if she'd been robbed. And then she went on and on about how all of her friends are dead, and how you never listen to her anymore, and you don't care whether she lives or dies, so I go to call you, right, and she runs into the kitchen and pulls out this handgun.”

“She said I don't care whether she lives or dies?” my mother seethed. “The nerve of her. All I do is call her, call her doctors, call her home health aides…. I'm worried sick about her day and night.”

“Mommy, could we please not make this about you?”

“Exactly,” my father chimed in. “Every time, you have to turn things into how it affects you.”

“Lenny, did I ask for your opinion?”

“Fine,” he yelled back. “You handle this. But I told you not to send Claire down there alone. Didn't I say to you, go with her just in
case?…Claire, listen to me. We're not blaming you, honey. Thank God you're there. Are you okay?”

“Couldn't be better. Thanks for asking…but Daddy, wait. Don't go. I have something amazing to tell you, and I want you both to hear. I found a great place for her to move.”

“What move?” My mother didn't let me finish. “She can't move. She's got a lease.”

“Mom, you're not listening. She can't be alone anymore. We don't give a shit about a lease.”

“That's easy for you to say,” my father grumbled. “I'm the one who gets stuck with all the bills. Paying off sky-high credit cards with twenty-one percent interest, and leases on cars we only got to use for three months because someone forgot to take the keys out of the ignition so it got stolen, but all right, we're all entitled to make a little mistake now and then—”

“I told you a hundred times I did not forget to take the keys out,” my mother yelled. “They got stuck in there or something. I don't know. It was a very hot day….”

“I'm warning both of you,” I said, “if you don't shut up and let me finish, I'm hanging up and I swear, you'll never hear from either me or Grams again.”

Bingo. Twice in one phone call I got their undivided attention.

“Okay, so as I was saying, last night the grandson of the man who died on me offered to let Grams move into his grandfather's assisted living apartment, and you have to see this place. In fact, it's so big and nice, I was thinking, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but unless they find out it's against the rules, maybe I'll move in with her for a little while because I was sort of offered a job down here at that modeling agency, and I haven't decided what to do yet, but it's a possibility—”

“Where is this place?” my mother asked. “In a decent neighborhood?”

Excuse me. Did you hear a word I said? I just told you I'm considering moving to Florida and living with your mother, and your first question is about the location?
“It's down in Coral Gables.”

“
Oy
. It's all Spanish down there now. And so far,” she complained.

“So far?” I replied. “Oh my God. What are you worried about? That her commute will be too long? What do you care where it's located? The place is brand-new, they offer a million services, and you should see how huge the apartment is. Plus, it's fully furnished, which, may I remind you, is a beautiful thing, because let's review, class: YOUR MOTHER IS SLEEPING ON THE FLOOR.”

“How much?” my father, the accountant, asked, already calculating twelve months' rent.

“Okay, see? That's the best part. It'll be free.”

“There's no such thing as free.”

“Yes, there is, Daddy. The Fabrikants love me so much for trying to help Abe, they'll do anything for me. So when they found out that my grandmother needed a place to live…”

Silence. “Hello?” I said. “Hello?”

Oh God. Of all times to lose the signal.

I decided to see if
The Lenny and Roberta Show
would call me back first so we didn't have to go around and around with the busy signals and the voice mails. Meanwhile, I'd go check on Grams and hope to God that I hadn't accidentally killed her.

Admittedly it took me longer to arouse her than I expected, which made me work up a bit of a sweat because could you just imagine
that
phone call home:
Mommy, you were right. Never mix sleeping pills with Cumadin
. But at least when she awoke, she was not only alert, but in decent spirits and hungry for breakfast.

Turns out she loved the nice cup of tea I made her last night. In fact, she hadn't slept that good in years, and wanted to know what brand it was so she could try it again.

It was only after a few minutes of getting her up and moving that I realized I hadn't heard back from my parents. Strange. I would have thought that after hearing the words
free rent,
my father would have returned the call immediately. On the other hand, given my parents' history of petty bickering, they were probably fighting about something ridiculous, and it was Grams who?

Why should they care where the beloved matriarch of the family
lived? Why should they care what a struggle it was for her to function? Let someone else worry whether she remembered to take her medicine or see the doctor. Didn't they realize what a lousy example they were setting for their children?

Meanwhile, I was about to tell Grams to put on her last remaining outfit so I could take her to breakfast and surprise her with some great news when my cell rang.

“Claire. It's Dad. I'm going to ask you a very important question, and I need you to speak slowly and clearly when you answer.”

“Hey, Dad. Nice of you to remember I was in the middle of telling you some really big news.”