Claire Voyant

by Saralee Rosenberg

  “That certainly explains where the time went.”

  “And then there’s the whole matter of the first cousin thing, but I think we’re past that.”

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “It turns out I’m not even related to myself.”

  “I always knew Aunt Penny was crazy, but I still can’t believe she actually lied about who the father was, and then made the wrong family responsible…. She’s awful.”

  “Yeah.” I sipped my wine. “But let’s just hope Marly doesn’t try to pull the same stunt.” Uh-oh.

  Drew looked away, and I knew I’d done it again. Opened my big mouth. Damn me!

  “Um…yeah. Look, about that whole thing…I’ve been putting it off because I didn’t want to ruin our first date. But we do need to talk.”

  “I’m sorry I said that.” I reached for his hand. “It was mean.”

  “Forget it. At least I know I can count on you to be brutally honest. I wish I had your guts.”

  “Drew, you don’t have to explain anything. I know.”

  “Know about what?”

  “About your varicose veins.”

  “My what?”

  “This morning when I was with your mom at the doctor’s, she happened to mention something about…your problem…the infertility.”

  “Why were you talking about that? I hope to God you didn’t tell her about Marly and the baby.”

  “I, um…well…I am so sorry.”

  “Damn you!” He slammed his fist down.

  “It just slipped. I was telling her how bad I felt because you were mad at me, and I thought I’d blown the chance to be in a relationship with you, and one thing led to the next….”

  “I didn’t need this right now. I really didn’t, Claire. Everything is such a mess. We wanted to handle this on our own without getting the families involved…. That’s one of the reasons we broke up. So much goddamn interference.”

  “I’m sorry…I really am.”

  “Have you noticed that all you ever do is apologize? I’m sorry for this, and I’m sorry for that?”

  “I know, and I’m really sorry.”

  “Ahhhhhh.” He laughed, and pretended to squeeze my neck. “I could strangle you sometimes. But then I’d miss you so damn much…. I can’t believe you told my mother.”

  “She did seem a little shocked…because of your problem and everything.”

  “My problem, Claire, is that everyone knows my goddamn business. I can’t even take a piss in this town without someone hearing about it. And I don’t know what it is with all you girls. You’re like a bunch of yentas…yak, yak, yak.”

  “I’m not a yenta.”

  “Fine. You just happened to be talking about me, and my medical problems, and my sex life, and God knows what else…. Oh, and incidentally? I don’t have varicose veins. I have something called varicocele…. It’s a problem in the scrotum that messes with your sperm production, and it makes your balls two different sizes…. I hope I’m not ruining your dinner. But hey. Here’s a hot news story that just came off the wire: I went and had my plumbing fixed.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. It was a real first. I didn’t even tell Marly. But six months ago I flew to New York and had the surgery.”

  “Why New York?”

  “Because no one knew me or would call me twenty times a day to ask if I pissed yet. And mostly because a good friend of mine from podiatry school, David Goldstone—his brother is this big-deal urologist in New York who specializes in male infertility. I figured, what the hell? My dick is worth the trip!”

  “What did Marly say after you told her?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Are you serious? Why not?”

  “Because I needed to know if she was marrying me because she loved me or because she was being pushed into this by her parents.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She knew I was going to have a big problem getting her pregnant. Basically, I was told that without the surgery there was like a one percent chance. But if she really loved me, she would have taken her chances that the surgery would fix the problem, or just accepted that we’d have to adopt. And if this marriage wasn’t about love, but about money and security and a hundred other lousy reasons to get married, then she’d end up sneaking around and going back to this guy Jonathan.”

  “The bagel guy.”

  “Yeah. The bagel guy.”

  “And that’s what she did?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “But it could be yours…because you had the surgery.”

  “I’m not a hundred percent yet, but it is possible it’s mine. She just doesn’t know that.”

  “And that’s why you want the blood test after the baby is born.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God. It’s like my story all over again. Will the real father please stand up? What are you going to do? Are you going to tell her?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Do you mean to tell me she never noticed that…the boys were fixed?”

  “She didn’t exactly spend a lot of time down there.”

  Ah, so Viktor had been right.

  “This whole thing is insane.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” he mimicked me.

  We just looked at each other and tried to keep a straight face. But when you’re falling in love, even the stupid stuff is funny.

  Chapter 32

  CAN YOU BLAME ME? ON MY FLIGHT TO NEW YORK THE NEXT DAY, I specifically requested not to sit next to any one over the age of sixty-five. “I’m not prejudiced,” I told the agent at the ticket counter. “But after my last flight, I just don’t want to take any chances.”

  “That bad?” he said.

  “Your clothes would go out of style before I finished telling you what happened.”

  “Couldn’t be any worse than what happened to this lady a few weeks ago,” he laughed. “Some old man dropped dead on her tray table.”

  “Oh my God. Are you serious? That’s awful.”

  “Yeah. It was ugly…. I hope she’s okay. That’s a hell of a thing to have happen.”

  “I have a feeling she’ll be fine,” I said.

  As for why I was traveling alone, I decided not to take Drew up on his kind offer to go home with me. I really felt like I should spend some time alone with my family. And I had so much to contemplate, it would be easier if I wasn’t under pressure to keep him entertained.

  Besides, I had one last hurdle, and that was how to handle the Penny bombshell. Frankly, I was still in shock myself. In the past few weeks, I’d thought that my father was three different men. The man who raised me, my Uncle Gary, and finally, the real sperm donator, a Hungarian philanderer who took more than a passing interest in his students.

  Anyone wanting to do a remake of Three Men and a Baby, could come to me for ideas.

  But seriously, it was upsetting to discover that I was the offspring of a lying, scheming witch who slept her way to the top of her class, and a lying, scheming professor who pursued extracurricular activities when the wife wasn’t looking. For all I knew, there were lots of little Ehrlichs in the world.

  Anyway, you know at first I was adamant about keeping the true identity of my father a secret, just as my parents had kept the story of my birth under wraps all these years. And now that I understood the painful should-we-or-shouldn’t-we hand-wringing they went through, I not only respected their judgment, I wanted to follow their lead.

  Trouble was, Penny was adamant about making this stupid film based on her life no matter who got trampled in the process. “With or without you, I’m pursuing this,” she told me last night. “Maybe Streep and Keaton are getting sent scripts, but the rest of us old ladies are fighting for scraps. The only way to get work is to produce the damn film yourself.”

  So I would have “the talk,” but it would have to wait. For somehow, even though my plans to return home were literally last-minute, my parents pulled off a surp
rise welcome-home backyard barbecue in my honor, complete with friends, neighbors, and, in a shocking move for my dad, relatives.

  How quaint the backyard looked, with its small cedar deck and the hunter-green patio set from Fortunoff’s, which came with the free matching umbrella. And how happy the guests looked in their casual attire, downing wings and potato salad as if they hadn’t eaten since lunch.

  This would have been a very different affair at Drew’s house. Gourmet catering with mouthwatering epicurean delights in the garden. A jazz quartet. Guests in silk Armani and designer shoes that cost more than three times the food being served.

  I began to wonder if it was even possible for our backgrounds to mesh. Only last night, I’d dined on wild striped bass with shiitake port sauce at Casa Casuarina, while mingling with socialites, bankers, fashion designers, fellow models, and a countess from Italy.

  Ha! The only thing from Italy at this little soirée was the sausage, and my Aunt Shirley’s pocketbook. No, wait. What was I saying? There’s no way she spent twelve hundred dollars for a Gucci bag. It had to be a fake.

  I could only imagine the wedding, then. A smorgasbord of Prada and Pay-Less. Of Marc Jacobs and Macy’s. Of ultra-wealthy business entrepreneurs and my father’s cousins, the garment district guys who played poker on the train and who lived from season to season. Could this marriage be saved?

  Meanwhile, I had a very important matter to attend to before I could ever envision a future with Drew. So after the last of the paper goods were tossed and the leftover cold cuts wrapped, I made the very grown-up decision to tell my parents the truth after all.

  They did not deserve to open Newsday one day and read an article about Penny Nichol’s latest film. A biopic of her college days, and the unfortunate tryst with her theater professor that produced a child who ended up being raised by some boy’s unsuspecting family on Long Island.

  I shuddered at the thought, and recalled that moment in Grams’ bathroom when I realized what she had been trying to tell me. That I was not Claire Greene, the girl I knew. I was Hannah Claire Fabrikant, the girl who never was. It would certainly go down as the most terrifying moment of my life, second only to learning the true identity of my father.

  And although it was getting late, I knew I would have to come clean with this revelation sooner rather than later. I was not the type of person to hold something in. In fact, I don’t know what ever made me think I could keep this quiet for the rest of my life. I would die trying not to mention anything, and then blow it with my big mouth.

  No. I had to do this right. Sit them down, carefully choose my words, and hope that it didn’t cause my father chest pains that required a visit to the emergency room. But that’s the funny thing about coming clean. It never goes as you expect.

  “I knew it. I knew it, I knew it.” My father swatted a mosquito on his arm as he paced the deck.

  “Are you serious?” I said. “How could you have known?”

  “Roberta, didn’t I say to you first thing? How do we even know it’s his kid? We don’t know this girl from Adam, where she’s from, who her family is. It’s like she showed up from out of nowhere, and suddenly she’s telling us she’s pregnant with Gary’s child.”

  “I thought your father was crazy,” my mother said. “Who lies about something like this?”

  “Oh, and then it was the way she seemed to pop,” he said. “We had a bunch of friends having their first kids at the time, and with those girls, it took a while to show. But Penelope had this big belly right away. I don’t know, the timing seemed off. Like maybe she was more pregnant than she said.”

  “It’s coming back to me,” my mother added. “Your father kept telling me, she’s an actress, she knows how to make you believe her…. But still, I thought, how could it not be Gary’s baby? He was walking around so happy. I mean, sure, of course he was scared, but he was crazy for her. And why not? A beautiful girl like that giving him the time of day, and now they were going to start a family together…. And then Grams was so tickled about the whole thing. You had to see her. Knitting up a storm with the booties and the blankets.”

  “So, let me ask you something, Claire.” My father looked up at the stars. “Did Penny happen to tell you the truth? Who the real father was?”

  “She told me everything…. And it’s so weird. It turns out he was this big, important theater professor at NYU…a married professor…Helmut Ehrlich.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Oh, I did. He was one of the great acting coaches of our time. Right up there with Lee Strasberg. In fact, I think I kept the book he wrote…. Can you imagine? There I am, a student in the IU Theater Department, cramming for an exam, studying from a book written by the man who fathered me twenty years earlier.”

  “Oh my,” my mother said. “Don’t they always say truth is stranger than fiction?”

  “Well, at least thank God, it sounds like a Jewish name.” My father shrugged.

  “She said he was Hungarian. I don’t know about the Jewish part. Not that I care.”

  “It would just be nice to know if you were a purebred. That’s all.” He chucked my chin. “So what’s the story with this guy? Is he still alive?”

  “You know, I didn’t even ask, because it wouldn’t matter to me. I already have a father.”

  “Thanks, honey. I guess I’m just curious. And it’s been a whole week since I smacked anyone in the jaw. I just thought—”

  “Don’t you dare,” I said. “This wasn’t his doing. According to Penny, she never told him she was pregnant. It’s not like she asked for his help and he turned his back on her.”

  “I suppose. I don’t know…the whole thing is so crazy. The way one person’s decision can turn so many lives upside down, and you don’t even know about it. And yet I don’t even care that we were taken advantage of. I’m grateful you were ours to raise. We got the better end of the deal.”

  “You brought us a lot of joy and pleasure.” My mother wiped her eyes. “Really. You were a wonderful baby. Not even the least bit fussy. And you were such a happy child. Always laughing and playing. You got along with everybody. You were so smart in school.

  “I know you think I wasn’t proud of you because I wasn’t like those big-mouth mothers who had to shout it from the rooftops when their kid scored a basket…I didn’t need to broadcast it. I was proud of you in my own way.

  “When I would see you standing so proud and tall with your friends at school, you were always so kind to everyone. If they needed cheering up, you’d try to make them laugh with your jokes. You were a very special girl, Claire. Always worrying about the next one. Asking if there was something you could do to help. Those were the moments I kvelled.”

  “Thank you both,” I said. “You were great.”

  As we soaked up the clear night sky, and the sounds of cars passing on the Northern State, we tried to let register all that had taken place. I couldn’t get over how well they’d taken the news, and I hoped that they would remain calm for part two.

  “A movie?” My father whistled. “Oy. I’ll tell you this. The woman has balls.”

  “It is a good story, though,” my mother said.

  “You can’t be serious,” I replied. “Do you realize what you’re saying? She wants to make a film that shows what idiots you were for taking in a baby you had no connection to.”

  “Would we…get to be in it?” she asked.

  “Oh my God.” I laughed. “That’s what this is about? She treated you like shit, but it’s okay as long as you get your fifteen minutes of fame?”

  “Why not?”

  “The reason why not, Mother, is because once again, she’s trying to take advantage of you. She’s trying to capitalize on your good heart, and tell your very personal story.”

  “I don’t know, Claire. Maybe your mother is right. It could be very good for you. I can’t think of anything that you’ve ever wanted more than to be a film actress. And if you’re around while they’re writing the
story, you’ll be our eyes and ears. You’ll make sure we come off as the good guys, not the schmucks from Valley Stream.”

  “I can’t believe you two. You’re crazy. And you don’t know who you’re dealing with here. Penny is a wack job.”

  “No, dear,” he said. “You’re forgetting that we do know her. We spent six long months with her while she was living at Grams’ house before you were born. And she is a handful. But what do you care? You’d be getting your breakout role…. So who do you think would play me?”

  “I don’t know.” I laughed. “How do you feel about Alan Arkin? Or maybe Jerry Stiller?”

  “What are you talking about? Jerry Stiller, my ass. I’m much better-looking than him. Don’t I remind you more of Pierce Brosnan?”

  “Only if I’m played by that Sally Jessica Parker.” My mother waved her hand. “She’s adorable.”

  “Sarah, Mom,” I sighed. “Sarah Jessica Parker. And I’m sure she’d be honored to play the very challenging role of Roberta Greene.”

  “I’m gonna be a big star in the movies.” My father danced with me to the old Beatles tune.

  “Oh my God.” I laid my head on his chest. “Shoot me now.”

  What’s a visit to Plainview without a stop at the old Plainview Diner? I had invited good old Elyce to breakfast as a way to make it up to her for not returning her seven hundred phone calls. Although, after expressing my apologies, I did plan to tell her that, much as I was happy for her and Ira, my circumstances were so crazy now, I simply couldn’t be in the wedding party.

  But that plan went down the drain when she walked in with her cousin Julia Farber. The same Julia Farber whom I’d run into with her mother at the Jacksonville airport on the day that Abe died. Just my luck. Now I could be double-teamed by the bride and her attendant, and not be able to bow gracefully out of the obligation.

  But the Lord works in mysterious ways, as I’d learned all too well. Seems Elyce and Ira were suddenly on shaky ground. Or at least Ira was. Elyce cried over her egg-white omelette that he was starting to get cold feet. That he’d gone fishing with his father for a few day to think about things, and although he hadn’t asked her for the ring back yet, she was afraid that was coming.