“Would you mind getting off me?” betagold asked. “You’re hurting my leg.”
I slowly rolled off her, still unsure about what was going on. “But I thought …” I pointed to the pack strapped across her chest.
She unzipped the bag, took out a bottle of champagne, and handed it to me with a smile. With the fireworks, the whole scene still appeared dreamlike—every person seemed familiar in some vague way. I felt as if several switches in my brain had been flipped.
Katie jumped me from behind. “So, what do you think?”
I asked her what she was talking about.
She didn’t answer, just kissed me on the cheek and grabbed the bottle of champagne. “I’ll e-mail you the photos of you digging for land mines. The earnest look on your face is priceless!”
Mike tackled me and apologized for being such a jerk. “I was just following the script, dude. No hard feelings?”
“Just tell me where Gus is.”
Mike pointed down toward the pond.
On my way to find our leader, I ran smack into Janine. She wore a sequined dress, Cleopatra eyeliner, and platform shoes. It was the first time she’d worn “normal” Janine clothes since she’d been here.
“When you confessed to being part of Gus’s plan the other morning, was that part of the game too?” I asked.
“Everything was scripted,” she said. “There were very few improvisations.”
I felt something rub against my leg and looked down to find Brady, head and all. I nearly fell to the ground in relief. “YOU PRETENDED YOUR DOG WAS DEAD?”
“It was incredibly hard, believe me. I actually had nightmares. Every time you showed up at Victopia unannounced, you thought I was with Gus, but I was hiding Brady.”
“What are you, a Method actor? What about his ashes?”
“I took them from your fireplace.” Janine gave betagold a high-five when she approached.115
“Tracy did a really great job too, don’t you think?” Janine asked.
“I used to do community theater years ago,” betagold added. “This was so much fun.” She gave me a playful nudge. “Screwing around with your head was just an added benefit.”
“WHAT ABOUT MY KIDNEY?” I said. “I wish someone had let me in on the joke before I went under the knife.”
Janine covered her mouth and laughed. “About that kidney—”
“What?”
She and betagold exchanged glances.
“You don’t mean …” I reached underneath my shirt. “I have a scar to prove it.”
“The guy who designed your scar apprenticed with the makeup whiz who did The Nutty Professor,” Janine said.
Betagold joined in Janine’s laughter.
I pointed to the space separating betagold and me. “So there was no …”
Janine continued to laugh.
“There’s no way Mass General was in on this,” I said.
“That’s a funny story,” Janine said. “You’ll have to ask the puppetmaster about it.”
“So the pains, the recovery—that was all in my head?”
“You never had more than that Valium,” Janine answered. “In a real organ donation, you would’ve had to undergo more rigorous screenings.”
“I’ve got to give you credit,” betagold said. “I would’ve let you die before I gave up anything that valuable to you. You really surprised me with your generosity.”
I didn’t have my kidney removed? I borrowed Janine’s cell and called Beth. Between the party noises here and in Providence, I could barely make out a word she said.
“Gus has been twisting and manipulating my life all along.”
Beth laughed until I told her about Brady and the fake transplant.116 “You could sue him!” she said. “I’ve never heard of such a violation!”
She told me she’d find a quiet place to talk and to call her back. On my way to a calmer place on the hill, I finally spotted Gus. He was talking to two young women in togas and ski jackets. It took a few moments to recall where I’d seen them—the makeup department at Bloomingdale’s.
So my mother never told me to study with Gus? She still hadn’t spoken to me? Could the news get any worse?
As I approached Gus, I noticed other people out of context—the guy with the videocamera, Peter’s ex-wife Katherine, and Marlene from Bloomingdale’s. How wide had Gus cast his net for this little game?
Gus wore a Viking hat with two large horns and was blowing into a noisemaker. As he excused himself from the girls, I held myself back from punching him in the gut.
“So the dog was a lie, the transplant was a lie—what else?”
He shrugged. “The arrest with the park rangers, getting rejected from Princeton, the land mines, the FBI agents, selling the paint-by-numbers on eBay.” He blew the noisemaker into my face. “Everything was a lie. I told you the first day we met that life was a game.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a pawn—a perfect metaphor for how I felt.
I forced myself to ask the next question. “What about the inconclusive results on the DNA test? If there’s any bit of truth I can squeeze out of you, can you at least be honest about that?”
He tucked the noisemaker into the pocket of his overalls. “I’m not your father,” Gus said. “But I’d be proud if I were.” He reached out to hug me, but I turned away.
“You’ve been jerking me around for months,” I said.
“Are you any more awake?”
Although the scene around me seemed like a carnival taking place in my unconscious, I had to admit I did feel more alive. I reluctantly congratulated Gus on his meticulous orchestration.
Gus looked confused. “Me? I’m just another actor. I was told to show up, and I did.”
“What are you talking about? Then who …”
He pointed a few yards away to someone wearing a pointy wizard hat and a long purple cloak. I moved through the crowd until I was right behind the small group. The hat looked like one I’d owned years ago; I recognized the crooked moons and stars. I spun the wizard around, eager to see the person who’d manipulated every facet of my life for the past two months.
“I thought you were going to call me back.” Beth held up the cell phone buried in her giant sleeve. She gave me a huge kiss. “Happy New Year, Josh.”
PART FIVE
“We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
T. S. Eliot
“Four Quartets”
“YOU?”
I dragged Beth down the path to a more secluded part of the park. She was so elated, she bounced with every step. I told her to tell me everything.
“First, just tell me you liked it,” she said. “I’d die if I thought you were angry.”
“Of course I’m angry! You completely altered my definitions of real and not real.”
“That’s the good news,” she said. “But what are you mad about?”
Where to begin? I ticked off the giant list of grievances and humiliations I’d suffered in the past few months. Not only had they been avoidable, they were premeditated. Beth listened so intently I thought she might reach into her cloak, pull out her laptop, and start taking notes.
“But what did you think of the performances? The drama club at school was great, and I found a lot of people on craigslist. I tried to get course credit for this as an independent project, but my department head turned me down.”
I asked her to tell me about Gus.
“Big Patriots fan. I met him while I was getting new tires put on my father’s car.”
“What?”
“He’s a part-time vet tech in Foxboro. Really nice guy.”
“I’ve been getting spiritual advice from someone who weighs dogs at an animal clinic?”
“I thought he did a great job. Just goes to show you—people you meet every day are perfectly capable of helping you on your path.
”
I felt a swath of redness move across my face. Was I so desperate for advice that I glommed onto anyone for guidance? “And the hospital?”
“The operation”—she held up her fingers in quotes, a habit I’ve always hated—“took place in an OR, just not at Mass General.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“The operating room at Gus’s vet’s office.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Why not? The people in scrubs were professionals, just for animals. When Gus asked them if we could use the space, they said yes right away.”
“I thought I heard barking! Where did I recuperate—and don’t tell me a kennel.”
Beth jumped up and down with laughter. She was really having fun with this.
“The Holiday Inn in Dedham. We got a room for three days, brought in a hospital bed, IV, and monitors we rented from a medical supply store.”
“And the nurses?”
“Luckily, you didn’t need any medical care. Those people were all looking for extra cash on craigslist. Closest anyone came to medical experience was the guy who worked at the piercing booth at the mall.”
I asked about the scar.
“My sister’s friend Kyle did a great job, right? You need special remover to take it off. I wanted you to get a real tattoo of a scar so you’d have something to remember this whole thing by, but Janine talked me out of it.”
“Thank God! But how’d you find Janine? I looked everywhere for her.”
“I called her parents in Seattle. Janine didn’t want to see you, but she had no problem seeing me. I left a message with her mother, and Janine called me back the same day. When I told her what we were doing, she signed on immediately. She still really cares about you.”
Beth looked so happy and eager to please, I finally quit giving her a hard time. What I really wanted to know was why?
She pulled out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans. “This is only a copy. Peter has the original.”
I recognized the messy handwriting as soon as I saw it. It was a letter from my mother to Peter, dated the week before she died.
“How come he never showed it to me?”
“He probably hoped he’d never have to.”
As worried as I was about the letter’s contents, it pleased me to see my mother’s illegible writing once again.
Dear Peter—
Leaving you is one thing, but leaving Josh fills me with utter sadness and dread. He means the world to me, but let’s face it, he’s high maintenance. Kids like Josh need so much support and stimulation. I’m worried that after I’m gone, he’ll look for his adrenaline rushes in destructive ways. I’ve worked hard at keeping his world full of excitement; his mind is his savior as well as his curse. Promise me if he starts to drift or sink, you’ll drop everything you’re doing to engage him. He’s a good kid—the best—but it takes some work to keep him plugged in. There’s no greater gift you can give me, Peter. I’ll be watching over both of you always. P.S.—Josh loves Beth next door. Go to her first if you need help.
Beth grabbed the edges of my jacket. “Your mom thought you loved me—why’d she think that?” She inched closer until my back was against a giant pine. “Why’d she think that, Josh, huh?”
As I reached across the cool January night to kiss her, I changed my mind and turned away. “Mom knew I’d have a hard time without her? The queen of spontaneity actually planned this far ahead? She thought I was high maintenance?”
“You are high maintenance!” The romantic moment had shifted, and so did Beth. “Peter was so worried about those letters you wrote home from the road that he called me up one morning to brainstorm how to get you back on track. When you got home and neither of us could get you off the couch for months, he gave me the go-ahead to plan something. Let’s face it, we all get caught up in games—my roommate hates me, my boyfriend’s cheating on me, I’m having a spiritual crisis—I just thought a conscious game instead of an unconscious one might jolt you back to being yourself.”
“So I guess those psych classes are paying off.”
“Don’t forget the drama classes. Got my money’s worth on those too.”
“You used to be such a terrible liar!” I said. “Kudos to your drama teacher.”
“Don’t you want to know about betagold?”
“That was my next question.”
“I knew if she was in our little game it would raise the stakes, so I had the detective check her out. When she told me about betagold’s charity work, Peter and I went back and forth before contacting her. As much as we hated to admit it, it seemed like she’d really changed. It was actually kind of fun working with her.”
“I can’t believe how much work you and Peter put into this.”
“He paid for everything, and it cost a ton, believe me,” Beth continued. “He was so worried about letting your mom down, it was really sweet.”
I looked up to see Peter a few yards behind us. He was wearing a Dr. Seuss hat117 and smoking a cigar.
“You did all this for me?” I asked.
He nodded. “And for your mother. I didn’t mean what I said about grabbing the ring off her finger and running. The years with her were the best times of my life.”
“Don’t you think therapy would’ve been cheaper?”
“Sure, but I felt I had to be a little more creative with you.”
As insane and convoluted as Beth and Peter’s plan was, I had to admire the effort and attention to detail. I didn’t know what else to say besides thank you.
“I’m an events planner, after all,” Peter said. “The question is, did it work? Do you feel alive again?”
“Sure, if you don’t count the nightmares I had to go through to get there.”
“A life-or-death situation will usually do that,” Peter said.
“Reality can be painful,” Beth added. “Of course so can fantasy, as evidenced by all the groaning you did about your kidney.”
I was never, ever going to hear the end of that one. But there was a question I had to ask. “Was that part of the game, making me think Gus was my biological father?”
“No!” Peter said. “The woman playing the private investigator screwed up. Instead of reading from the fake Gus bio, she was looking at your file. We were furious with her.”
“I nearly died when you came to Brown and told me,” Beth said. “And God forbid you let go of the new story line. We all had to improvise.”
“So my biological father is dead?”
Peter nodded. “After you started digging around, I hired a real P.I. to look into it. He died before you were born, just like your mother said.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pang of grief. Peter must’ve sensed it because he put his hand on my shoulder. “Sorry that mistake got your hopes up.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m used to paying the price of an overactive imagination.”
“Speaking of paying, we owe the bank a bundle, but I’ve been working on that too. We shot footage to document your journey—Gus’s brother-in-law, Joe, said you spotted him a few times with his videocamera. I’m flying to L.A. next week to pitch this to five different studios as a new reality show—contestants, prizes, audience participation as to the player’s fate. Give my event-planning business a boost. What do you think?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’ve edited all the footage into a great pilot. The thing looks amazing. You’re going to be a star.”
I looked over to Beth. “Please tell me this is part of the game.”
She laughed. “Sorry.”
“Hey,” Peter said, “how about if I put you on as associate producer?”
I leaned against a maple and waited for them to tell me they were busting my chops. They weren’t. The guy with the videocamera appeared from behind the bushes.
“Got all that, Joe?” Peter asked.
“Got it.” Joe zoomed in for a close-up.
“S
o, Josh,” Peter asked, “what did you learn?”
I stood there tongue-tied, watching Peter and Beth wait for me to say something profound. Instead, I just thought about how generous and crazy they were, and how much I loved them both. I thought about how life was a game, how I’d spent hours upon hours searching for the key to the universe, when all along, the door was already unlocked. I absorbed this newfound knowledge with a stupid grin on my face until the cameraman yelled “cut!”
“Do you remember when I gave you this?” Beth held up the wizard hat she’d worn at the “cast party” a few nights ago.
I told her of course I did; she’d given it to me at the first Larryfest in honor of the nickname she’d bestowed on me years before. I was finally inside the Victopian, which had served as command central for their operation. Peter was loading equipment into his car while Beth folded the various costumes and uniforms, some to return to the Brown theater department, others to donate to Goodwill.
“Out of all the things that are bothering me, the worst is that I never heard my mother’s voice at Bloomingdale’s that day. Those people were plants—my mother hasn’t spoken to me yet.”
“I guess that means you need to make a trip to Chestnut Hill before you leave for school. See for yourself if you can still hear her or not.”
As if I hadn’t planned on doing that already.
Beth cleared up several loose ends I’d been wondering about: They’d made their own Mass General and Princeton letterhead, a contractor friend of Beth’s father had parked a backhoe and port-o-john at my favorite woods to make it appear as if construction was under way. The land mines were actually brake drums they’d gotten at an auto salvage yard.
“Why did I have to pay tuition and no one else did?”
“I figured the fake tuition would be a good way to start messing with your head.”
When Beth answered the front door, I almost didn’t recognize Gus. He wore pressed khakis, a button-down shirt and tie, and had reading glasses on a cord around his neck.
Larry and the Meaning of Life Page 11