Last Call (3 page)

However, if Joey
had
suffered an asthma attack and Diana found out that Hayden had let him play kickball, it’s certain she would have euthanized him faster than you put down a decrepit cat that pees all over expensive new carpets. Hayden keeps the inhaler in his pocket, just in case, though he doesn’t tell Joey this. In truth, Hayden finds it amazing that with all of Diana’s precautions and ministrations Joey hasn’t already voluntarily checked himself into an iron lung for safekeeping.

As Hayden takes up a position near the casket, pondering the fine line between life and death, a strong arm claps him on the shoulder followed by a voice that would be considered loud for a wake. “Crazy Hady MacBride!”

Hayden turns to find the last person he expects to see, T. J. Cory, a young colleague from the financial services division of his old Brooklyn office. Effectively concealing his surprise at being discovered, Hayden gives T. J. a hearty greeting and a big smile, successfully disguising the fact that his mind is racing to figure out how Cory is connected to the deceased.

T. J.’s eyes well up with tears as he tells Hayden, “Your coming to the funeral will mean so much to Mom! You have no idea!”

Mom?
Dr. Richardson can’t be T. J. Cory’s father. Hayden hadn’t seen T. J.’s name in the paper. On the other hand, T. J.’s first four names were something that sounded more like a Civil War battleground than an insurance salesman. But Hayden manages to stay one step ahead of being found out.

“Actually, I’m sorry to say I wasn’t aware he was your dad, T. J.,” says Hayden, his brogue swelling and making this confession sound all the more heartfelt.

“Stepfather,” interjects T. J.

“Yes, oh, now I see,” says Hayden. He scours his memory in an attempt to recall something pertinent about Richardson from the obituary, but all that comes to mind is the fact that he was a navy veteran. “T. J., I’m here to pay my respects to a fellow member of our armed forces.”

T. J.’s eyes practically leap out in front of his nose and he puts a beefy arm around Hayden and starts steering him over to a fifty-ish woman in a black dress and black lace gloves just a few feet away. “Mom, Hady here was in the navy with Dad!”

The small woman looks up at Hayden as if he’s a ghost. “You survived the rescue in the South China sea with Marvin? I’d heard that everyone else was gone.” She hugs Hayden and presses her face into his chest.

“Well, ma’am.” Hayden stiffens slightly as he imagines himself in the navy and tries to place the South China Sea, but a group of people have surrounded them and all talk at once. Apparently T. J. has informed the relatives that another survivor is in attendance.

“You simply must say a few words,” insists Dr. Richardson’s brother Drew, an ophthalmologist.

“Oh yes,” concurs T. J. “Especially how you were in the water for two days with the sharks.”

Joey arrives at Hayden’s side, intrigued by the word
sharks
, and not surprised to see that Hayden has so quickly ingratiated himself with the entire family. Hayden introduces his grandson and they all solemnly shake Joey’s hand as if he’s the offspring of a great war hero.

“No, I couldn’t speak,” Hayden demurs.

“Oh, you must say a few words!” the widow urges Hayden as if he’d be shirking his duty not to say a few words.

Joey looks up at his grandfather for a signal that they should make a run for it.

Drew comes huffing back over after a brief word with the minister. “It’s all set. You’ll speak first, Officer MacBride.”

Joey’s mouth drops open at the word
officer
. The closest Hayden has ever been to the armed forces was when they went to buy Joey a sailor hat at Reliable & Franks military surplus store outside the gates of the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Before another word can be said the minister walks to the podium and the mourners take their seats. The family pulls Hayden along with them to the front row. Meanwhile Hayden quickly puzzles together what he knows—he and Richardson are the same age so it must have been Vietnam. They must have landed in the water due to a ship or a submarine sinking. And there were sharks. That was settled. He’d go with the sharks. To bolster his confidence, Hayden reminds himself that supposedly there aren’t any other survivors who can contradict his story.

When called to the podium Hayden clears his throat and the fear of being found out translates into an appearance of mournful solemnity. He starts by saying how wonderful it was that Marvin devoted his life to medicine, to helping people, and yet it was no surprise. His brogue swells as he recounts how Marvin was always concerned with the well-being of others, even that tragic day when they were in the frigid shark-infested waters of the South China Sea, praying to be rescued. Hayden takes a pause as if he hesitates to revisit those terrible two days in his mind, no less talk about them. But then he steadies himself and tells the story about the explosion and the waves as high as a house, and finally, the sharks.

“You’d swim over to your buddy through the freezin’ cold water thinkin’ he was still alive and tap him on the shoulder from behind. The torso would bob once and there wouldn’t be anything below the waist.”

The audience gives a collective gasp.

“The thing about a shark is he’s got lifeless black eyes and when he comes at you he doesn’t even seem to be alive until he bites you.”

After a deep intake of breath from the assembled crowd, the room is dead silent except for the hum of the air-conditioning.

“And when he bites, those black eyes roll over white. Yes indeed, a lot of men went into the water but only a few came out.”

There’s an involuntary moan from somewhere in the back and Hayden decides he’d better not press his luck. So he closes by saying how it was Marvin’s idea to all form a circle against the sharks and how he encouraged everyone not to panic because certainly they’d be rescued. And if it hadn’t been for Martin’s bravery and calm assurance there wouldn’t have been any survivors and thus Hayden would always be eternally grateful to his old pal.

After the ceremony Hayden is mobbed and embraced by appreciative mourners. T. J. and Drew insist that he come back to the house. But after such a narrow escape Hayden insists he must get Joey to a made-up baseball practice and they quickly exit.

On the way to the parking lot Joey is lavish in his praise for Hayden’s speech. “That was incredible, Grandpa, especially the part about the sharks. In fact, it sounded as if I heard it somewhere else.”

“I stole a few bits and pieces from Robert Shaw in
Jaws
.” If Diana knew that he and Joey rented scary movies on rainy afternoons when she was at work she would disconnect the VCR.

“Well, they bought the whole story!” Joey crows.

“It was really wrong o’ me, Joey. I just didn’t know what else to do. T. J. caught me by surprise and before you knew it—”

“But they
loved
it. It made them feel better.”

Hayden knows that’s true, but still worries about setting a bad example for his grandson. On the other hand, sometimes you have to bend a rule or two in life, and that isn’t such a bad thing for a young person to learn.

“It did seem to lessen their sorrow a wee bit,” he agrees philosophically. The way Hayden sees it, no matter what did or didn’t happen in the South China Sea, the poor bastard probably performed some unsung good deeds along the way and so it all balances out in the end. And death is the end, no two ways about it.

chapter four

B
y the time the funeral duo exits the second reception across town in Canarsie, it’s late afternoon, and time to change back into their game clothes and head for home. Hayden pulls up to Canarsie Beach Park, overlooking Jamaica Bay, where bronze plaques along the pier explain the varieties of birds indigenous to the area and a golden age club in matching T-shirts storms the waterfront with arms pumping and backs slightly hunched against the breeze.

Suddenly a well-formed young woman spilling out of a skimpy orange bikini top and cutoff denim shorts struts toward the boardwalk from the back of the parking lot in gold plastic high-heeled sandals. “Look, look,” Hayden nudges Joey with his elbow. “She’s taking the twins for a walk.”

Joey turns and stares at her with appreciation in his wide blue eyes. He tries to let out a low whistle but doesn’t have the technique down yet. The object of their admiration gives the MacBrides a smile as she passes them by to join a muscular man carrying a cooler.

Hayden and Joey change back into their casual clothes in the men’s room behind the outdoor ice cream stand and then buy large pistachio cones with chocolate sprinkles for the ride home. “We’d like sugar cones, along with an eight-by-ten glossy of yourself,” Hayden says to the woman serving them, causing her to giggle with delight.

They take a shortcut through Seaview Village, driving past block after block of ranch-style and split-level houses that feel more like a middle-class suburb than Brooklyn. Joey looks longingly at the children bicycling and playing kickball in the neighborhood’s quiet streets. They serve as a painful reminder that as much as Joey adores Hayden, he wouldn’t mind having a friend his own age so they could trade baseball cards and play video games. They’re two of his favorite things, and his grandfather knows absolutely nothing about either one.

Before entering the town house Hayden insists on a quick debriefing session to ensure that they have their story straight—who played, who won, what the score was, what they ate, and so forth. Rigorous rehearsal is mandatory. “Your mother,” Hayden is fond of reminding his grandson, “possesses the cross-referencing skills of a lifetime employee at the Library of Congress.”

It’s during moments like this that Hayden feels a twinge of guilt—coaching an innocent boy to lie and thereby setting a bad example. If Joey grows up to be a mobster Hayden is convinced it will be entirely his fault. Though if his grandson becomes a funeral director or a caterer that will probably be his doing as well. However, he absolves himself in true Scots’ fashion with the knowledge that all three occupations pay a good wage.

“Now Joe-Joe, do’an’ forget,” Hayden adds, “tomorrow we’re going to a baseball game for
real
. So we do’an’ need to sneak out any extra clothes.”

“Good. I’m getting bored with all this death.”

“I admit it’s an acquired taste, like the bagpipes.”

As far as Joey is concerned, the funerals are all starting to look the same, and his grandfather often becomes subdued on the way home, absorbed in his own thoughts. Joey prefers it when his grandfather is cursing out the opposing team after a Mets game or giving him pointers on how to flirt with the girl at the ice cream parlor. On those days Hayden is filled with an endless supply of good humor and gives Joey tips on driving, car maintenance, and the best places in Brooklyn to take a woman if you want to kiss her. His grandfather believes Brooklyn to be the most romantic place in the world, much more so than the tourist-infested Manhattan.

When they finally enter the house it’s half past five in the evening, prime appliance time for Diana. As usual, she has the vacuum blaring, washer spinning, dryer tumbling, dishwasher churning, blender whining, and the microwave whirring while it defrosts a bird for dinner. Hayden has purchased three extension cords and reset the fuse box at least a dozen times in the weeks since she and Joey arrived. The good thing is that with all the racket covering the sound of the car engine as they turn into the driveway, it’s usually easy to sneak into the house and stash their funeral clothes in a closet before she even realizes they’re back.

Sprawled across the sofa and glued to the TV is Diana’s no account ex-boyfriend Anthony, not to be confused with her no account ex-husband Evan.
How does such a bright and attractive girl constantly attract such good-for-nothing men?
Hayden repeatedly asks himself (and Diana). Even her senior prom date did prison time right after graduation for acting as wheelman to a Brighton Beach Russian mafioso. Hayden remembers the incident all too well, since it took the boy away from his regular job at his uncle’s chop shop and Hayden got stuck with the corsage bill.

“What’s
he
doing here?” Hayden hisses at Diana, who’s in the kitchen making Anthony’s favorite sun tea with freshly squeezed lemons and a tray of snacks. Hayden views Anthony as a giant primordial toad who basks on the sofa in the glow of the TV until food appears, at which time his head sinks into his shoulders and he proceeds to slobber and gorge himself.

“He’s relaxing after a hard day of work,” replies Diana.

“Any more relaxed and the sheep will be counting
him
,” remarks Hayden. “I thought you two broke up after he
borrowed
your credit card.”

“Now Dad, he’s paying that money back, every cent.” She anxiously twists the thin gold chain around her neck. The only thing Hayden does that truly bruises Diana’s feelings is constantly criticize her choice in men. The rest of his comments and antics only serve to annoy her, or else drive her to the brink of despair with worry.

“You could bring a tear to a glass eye.” Hayden looks at the tray of hors d’oeuvres with eyes that are like the windows on an old-fashioned cash register toting up the cost.

“He needed the money for supplies. Oil paints and properly stretched canvases are very expensive.”

“Is that what he told you? I think the only stretched canvas your Michelangelo has ever seen is while lying facedown in a hammock.”

“That’s enough now. Besides, Joey likes him. This summer Tony is going to teach Joey how to fish,” she says brightly. “A nice safe sport where he won’t get hit in the chest with a ball.”

Hayden switches on the coffeepot. “The only reason Joey likes him is because he hasn’t made any friends in this neighborhood yet. Right now the lad would gladly play freeze tag with all the inmates on Riker’s Island.”

Diana switches off the coffeepot and foists a glass of prune juice on him instead. “Dad, you
know
you’re not supposed to have coffee.”

Hayden sips the juice and then makes a face. “I’m going to die a healthy man.” He puts down the glass and stares at his daughter for a moment. She’s stunning in a lavender silk T-shirt and a flowing peasant skirt splashed with indigo, fuchsia, and turquoise, practically dancing across the parquet floor with the light quick steps of a gazelle. Suddenly he is overcome with the urge to protect her and unmask this freeloading buffoon once and for all. Dying would be easier if he knew that he was leaving Diana and Joey in the hands of a trustworthy male.