Lenny took a swig of his beer. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve got issues too.” He took another swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
A burst of clatter came from the far end of the room. A waiter had dropped a tray of dishes, which scattered and broke on the terrazzo.
“That poor son of a bitch just lost a paycheck,” Lenny said. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a regular job instead of running a business. My biggest customer can’t pay me because his money’s tied up in the Middle East. Why anyone would deal with Arabs I don’t know.” He took another swig.
Paul felt the hustle coming; he took two deep breaths to loosen his chest.
Lenny said, “Now I’m short because he’s stupid. All my cash is locked away. CDs and such. I need some capital to get past Ramadan, if you can believe it.”
Paul winced; Lenny’s timing sucked. He could hear Maggie’s “I told you so” already. Over the years Lenny had gravitated from one marginal import–export business to another, each time starting with big talk and winding up on the outs with an “idiot partner” and hurting for cash. Paul had helped a couple of times; Lenny hadn’t paid him back, promising more when the next deal came through. Maggie nagged him to collect, but he didn’t sweat nickels and dimes. Lenny was Lenny, the only blood relative who’d protected him from a hostile world.
“How much do you need?”
“Five thousand. My guy says he’ll get paid by the end of the summer. I’ll pay you back as soon as I see his check.”
Paul shook his head. “You won’t.”
Lenny lowered the beer glass, a hurt look on his face. “If you help me over this hump, I’ll never have to ask you for another dime. I’ll be done with alimony in six months, and I’ll pay you back, with interest. What do you say?”
The pressure in his chest mounted. Heart attack? Panic attack? Or disgust at Lenny’s cupidity? His entire career was at stake and Lenny whined over five grand. He couldn’t trust Lenny to put him first for five minutes. The Lenny of his youth, Batman to his Robin, had transformed into a fat, selfish clown. Fear flooded through him: Lenny couldn’t help. Maggie wouldn’t help. He needed another strategy. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.” He signaled for the waiter. His chest burned, no remedy in sight.
The elderly judge stood on a wooden platform that had been set up at the back of the lawn against the hedges that bounded the property. Two oriental screens at the rear of the platform were draped with branches of lilac blooms, and three rows of wooden folding chairs sat on the grass facing the platform. Three round tables stood on the grass close to the house beneath a yellow-and-white-striped canopy, and the caterer’s kitchen equipment waited on the patio. Arun and his parent surrogates were chatting with the judge when Paul and Lenny arrived. Paul spotted Maggie and Jenn hovering over one of the tables, covered with cut flowers and an array of vases and bowls. Maggie saw him, checked her watch, and shot him a dirty look. It was five thirty on the dot. He wanted a bourbon, but he didn’t want to cross her.
Jenn flounced over in a filmy dress to peck his cheek. “In the nick of time, Dad. The judge is ready to begin the rehearsal.”
“You look pretty,” Lenny said.
Jenn blushed. “Thank you. I’m nervous and it makes me pink.” She laughed and took his arm. “Come meet Arun’s aunt and uncle. Uncle to uncle. Actually they’re second cousins, but he calls them aunt and uncle.” She led him toward the rear of the lawn.
Paul stepped to Maggie’s side. She placed a stem of iris in a tall vase and wiped her hands on a towel. She said, “How’s Lenny?”
“He needs five thousand dollars.”
“That’s our Lenny. What are you going to do?”
“If I have a job next week, I’ll give it to him.” He hadn’t meant to bait her, but he couldn’t help himself. Monday yawned a year away.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you Stamford’s out to get me. The Alicia thing is an excuse. Because after the conference he won’t be able to hold me back. No one will.”
She shook her head. “You’re off base. Look, Jenn’s beckoning.”
“Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Take it up with Robert tomorrow. I don’t want to be in the middle.”
“He’s coming to the wedding?” An ugly thought flashed through him, an image of Maggie naked, wrapped around the man he most detested.
She addressed him as if he were a child. “I told you he’s coming. And Sandi. They’ve both done me a thousand favors. Robert and Jenn made friends when she broke her leg. You were out of town and he helped me, remember? Jenn wanted to invite them, and I agreed.”
His chest was so tight that he could hardly breathe. He felt violated; Stamford would come kiss his daughter—and maybe his wife—and eat his food while plotting his ruin. This should not happen. He’d stop it from happening.
Jenn called to him from the edge of the lawn. He felt sick, but Jenn expected him to perform. Arun separated himself from the knot of people gathered in front of the judge and approached, hand outstretched. Paul’s craw overflowed with disgust. “Don’t touch me!” He stopped short. “I don’t want any part of this.”
Maggie stepped between him and Arun. She growled low at him, “Do not embarrass your daughter.”
“Everything is coming apart and you worry about embarrassment.” He hated her.
“Shape up. Now,” she hissed.
He saw Jenn watching, pain on her face. His heart split open. Maggie took his arm and pulled him toward the others. He followed her lead.
In front of the judge, he listened for instructions through a haze of misery. He stood, he sat, he walked where indicated; he followed them into the house; he served drinks. When alone in the kitchen, he smashed his hand into the yellow tile for relief; it was temporary. In the restaurant, he sat through dinner next to his father-in-law, equally deaf and silent; he did not finish the steak with zero taste. Jenn stared at him, lips pursed like her mother; he looked away. Willing himself numb, he drove Jenn and Arun and Sarah home while ignoring their talk. He poured a drink and descended into the Lair to wait for Maggie to return from ferrying her parents to the hotel. The bourbon burned his throat.
Seated in the tattered chair at his desk, he pictured Alicia—lab coat unfastened, hair disheveled, crumpled handkerchief in hand—in the hospital boardroom, sitting across that slab of a table from the committee, whoever the hell they were, Stamford egging her on. She wouldn’t be able to explain the extrapolations they’d done. She’d cry, branding him a cheat. Stamford would call him a fraud and broadcast it everywhere. Thirty years’ work obliterated just like that. He’d be ridiculed and shunned. He felt dizzy and saliva filled his mouth.
Muffled sounds penetrated the ceiling from the kitchen overhead. Maggie. Should he come clean? Let her know how vulnerable he was—no, how vulnerable they were? Her own comfortable life depended on his success. Maybe then she’d persuade Stamford to lay off. Or bribe him. A disgusting picture formed in his mind’s eye and he shut it down. No, if he laid it all out, Maggie would turn judgmental and mock him. It was up to him to find a way to neutralize the bastard. Pronto. He closed his eyes, also burning. Tomorrow would be torture. He remembered that there was some oxycodone in the medicine cabinet. It had been three years since his hernia surgery, but the stuff should still work.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sunday, eleven o’clock, partly cloudy and cool. In the soft light, the backyard looked serene: bright, new grass; dark green hedges sporting light green growth; pots of pink and white flowers lining the wooden platform and rows of wooden folding chairs. Most of the guests were milling near the bar under the canopy, sipping mimosas and circling the bridal couple, who mingled with them although the ceremony had not yet begun. Jenn wore a long, white Indian cotton dress and, around her shoulders, a shawl of sari cloth, lavender threaded with gold. Arun stood close to her, beaming, in a blue suit with a lavender tie. The lilac bush bloomed lavender with darker p
urple buds, promising more new life in the Adler garden.
Maggie conversed with the caterer on the patio. Sarah stood near the patio door, which was decorated with lilacs, to take photos of arriving guests. Lenny helped the bartender serve drinks, inviting toasts to the bride. A string trio played Mozart in the far corner of the backyard. Seated together in the front row of folding chairs, Roger and Claudia chatted with the elderly judge. Arun’s cousins talked to another Indian couple in sari and Nehru jacket.
Paul roamed the yard, tension written on his face.
When Robert Stamford appeared in the doorway, Paul loped over to him. Robert extended his hand, smiling. “Congratulations. She’s such a lovely girl.”
“I don’t know how you can show up here.”
Stamford looked taken aback. “Maggie asked me to come.”
“How can you come to my daughter’s wedding when you’re pulling the rug out from under me!”
“What are you saying?”
“You’re investigating my lab just because a competitor asked questions. That’s sabotage, and I’m going to fight back.” Paul’s face reddened and he drew himself taller, towering over Robert Stamford.
“Paul, you exaggerate. We’re doing a pro forma inquiry into an allegation. When we replicate Alicia’s work, that will be the end of it.”
“Alicia’s work you say. You know very well that I’m the target. And if she made a few errors, it will damage me, not you. You pretend you’re protecting the hospital, but you’re really out to kill creativity. You will regret this.”
“You misunderstand. I support your work, always have. I will do everything I can to clear up the allegation.” Stamford lowered his voice. “You mention errors. Is there something I should know?”
“I am not going to sell out my research staff. You need to stop the charade. I will raise a stink if you don’t. The fat cats you care about will react.”
“Tell me about the errors. I need to know the extent of them so I can protect you and your staff.”
“Protect? You mean eviscerate.”
“Paul, be logical. Why would I want to damage you? Your lab makes an important contribution to the hospital.”
“The hospital. Keep this up and the hospital will suffer.”
Stamford stopped smiling. “You can’t threaten me. If need be, I will rescind your overhead and use it to undo your so-called errors. Whatever happens between you and me won’t affect the hospital one iota.”
Maggie appeared at Paul’s side. “Gentlemen, please. This is Jenn’s day. Robert, come meet the groom.” She took his arm and led him away.
Paul glowered after them. He tramped over to Lenny at the bar under the canopy. Lenny looked at his face and reached past the bartender to fill a tall glass with champagne. He offered it to his brother, saying, “That the guy giving you agita?”
Paul downed the bubbly. “Yeah. I let him know I’m going to fight. He’ll think twice. Scandal’s bad for fund-raising.”
“Pretty poor specimen. Maggie’ll come back to you.” Lenny elbowed Paul in the ribs.
“You son of a bitch. Forget about Maggie. This is my fight.” His voice had risen way above polite.
“Easy there. I’m busting your chops.”
Arun detached himself from Jenn’s side and approached the brothers. “Paul, may I escort you to your place? I believe we’re nearly ready to begin.”
“No, you may not. I’m enjoying a talk with my brother here.”
“Please, for Jenn’s sake. She is concerned about you.”
“If she were truly concerned about me she wouldn’t marry you.”
Arun spoke calmly. “I look forward to the day when Jenn’s extraordinary happiness makes you retract that statement.”
Lenny stepped between them. “Hey, hey. No hard feelings today.” Addressing Arun, “Tell Jenn not to worry. She can count on Uncle Lenny.”
Arun nodded and turned away. Lenny took the glass from Paul’s hand and poured a refill, saying, “This is your last one until after the ceremony. You want to be able to see your daughter do her thing. Then you can get stupid drunk. Not that I’m recommending it.”
Paul took a swig, then laid the glass on the bar. “I won’t get drunk. I have a fight on my hands. Not just with him,” tipping his head toward Arun’s receding figure.
“You’re the man,” Lenny said, clapping him on the back.
Sarah crossed the lawn to Maggie and gestured with the camera in her hand—evidently the last guests had arrived. Maggie moved among the rows of chairs and spoke to the judge. She signaled to Paul to join her. Head down, he trudged toward her, Lenny following. They took seats in the front row.
The judge shook hands with Claudia and Roger and, moving slowly, stepped up onto the platform. When he had settled himself facing the gathering, the musicians segued from divertimento in E-flat into the wedding march. Guests picked up their heads like a flock of birds on alert and seated themselves with a shiver of excitement. Jenn and Arun stepped onto the platform in front of the judge and faced each other. Everyone could see them in profile, a little smile playing on Jenn’s lips, Arun grinning so broadly that his round eyes looked like slits. Arun extended both hands and Jenn took them in hers. Maggie stepped onto the platform beside Jenn, and Arun’s cousin, Megha, stood beside him. The music stopped and the judge cleared his throat. A hush fell over the guests; in the momentary silence, a bird chirped and a neighbor’s child called.
The judge removed a slip of paper from his pocket and looked over the top of his glasses at the couple and then the seated guests. He explained that the state of New York had vested in him the power to unite a couple in matrimony, but not to secure their happiness. The latter depended on the couple themselves, and this couple had something to pledge to each other in that regard. Taking the cue, Maggie stepped forward and wrapped a wide purple ribbon around Jenn’s left hand in Arun’s right; Megha wrapped another ribbon around their other joined hands. Maggie and Megha stepped off the platform, taking seats next to their husbands. Maggie grasped Paul’s arm and leaned into him, as if to press him more solidly into his chair. The judge invited the bride and groom to avow their love.
Jenn spoke first in a firm, clear voice: “Since the day we met, I have enjoyed your strength and your kindness. You are my best friend. I will love you and honor you all my life.”
Arun replied too quickly, obviously nervous: “Since the day we met, I have delighted in your spirit and your compassion. You are my greatest gift. I will love you and honor you all of my life.”
Maggie wondered if any promise could last a lifetime. At twenty-six, she had thought her promise to Paul would. She no longer loved the blustering, sulking male animal sitting beside her, but she still loved the brilliant youth he had been, or the picture in her mind of that youth. Or perhaps it was nostalgia for her own youth that aroused her tenderness. What would Jenn reflect on thirty years from now? Thirty years yielded so many trials. She had to trust Jenn to manage them competently and, she hoped, with loving support. She did not judge, which, she realized, made her different from her mother in the same shoes. And she could not predict. Arun remained indecipherable to her, but the obvious bond between him and Jenn demanded respect.
Arun: “I promise to inspire and encourage you to live a life of devotion and learning.”
Jenn: “I promise to celebrate with you and to help you achieve your goals.”
There was a time, Maggie thought, when she would have thought those words perfect. Today she bridled against the asymmetry. Arun expected Jenn to lead a life of devotion. To him? To his strange ideas? And Jenn promised to serve his goals. What would happen when his goals contradicted her needs? Could Jenn pull Arun around to her way of thinking? If Maggie asked her directly, Jenn would flick her hand and say, “No problem. We want the same things.” Maggie sighed; there was no antidote to youth.
Jenn: “I will cherish you in good times and in hard times, and I will see you through.”
Arun: �
�I will nurture you in sickness and in health and share blessings even when they are scarce.”
The words took Paul back to his own wedding, when an innocent Maggie had promised to stick with him for better or worse. She wasn’t delivering, and it infuriated him. She had been steadfast in her support before, or so he’d thought, until Lenny poisoned his head. Maybe if he told her the whole story, the real story about Alicia and his extrapolations, she’d come through. Or would she scorn him? Revealing all was too risky. He’d fight Stamford on his own.
Arun: “I want to raise a family with you and to savor the happiness and share the cares.”
Jenn: “I want to observe the traditions that are meaningful to us and to create new ones together.”
So, Paul thought, the fakir promises to do housework, the faker. God, he wished he could take him on—smash that smug face, knee those offending balls—and obliterate this nightmare. Every time he had wanted to argue with Arun these past weeks, Maggie or Sarah had interfered. And then Alicia freaked and he got distracted. So Jenn would be stuck with a hypocrite who would steal the bloom from her rose. With a pang, he felt abandoned by the child into whom he had poured such affection and whose companionship had elevated his days. Jenn’s future pain would be his pain. He couldn’t bear the ceremony any longer. If not for Maggie’s insistent arm, he would have slipped away.
The judge reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. Jenn nodded to him and he mumbled, “Ah, yes.” He replaced the box and unwrapped the ribbons binding the couple’s hands. Stuffing ribbons into his other pocket, he told the assembled body that Jenn and Arun had chosen rings to symbolize everlasting commitment to each other. He took out the box and offered it to the bride and groom in turn.
Jenn, sliding the ring on Arun’s finger: “You bring me joy. I am your wife.”
Arun, sliding the ring on Jenn’s finger: “You bring me wonder. I am your husband.”
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