Love Love

  Kevin picked up the book and stared at the author, who sat Indian-style atop a mountain peak. All this time, he’d thought this guy was some sort of a boyfriend, a rival. Pali had kind eyes, a friendly round face. He looked like someone who could help people in need.

  Mr. Cooper stopped in front of a half-open door. Alice was in bed, but she wasn’t asleep. She stared straight up at the ceiling, as if she could see through the off-white paint.

  “Honey?” Mr. Cooper said.

  They waited. She didn’t move.

  “Well,” Mr. Cooper said. “Here you are, Kevin. You made it this far, so you might as well spend some time with her.”

  Kevin nodded and sat in the chair next to the bed. When the Coopers turned to leave, he felt foolish for wanting to tell them to stay. It was just a gut fear reaction, nothing more.

  “I see you,” Alice said.

  “Okay,” he said. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Kevin,” she said, and he let out a sigh of relief that soon segued into a sigh of disappointment. “That’s what Dad just said.”

  “Right.”

  The strangest thing was that she didn’t look different. Thinner than the last time he saw her, but she’d been at this weight before, years ago, when they’d just started dating. It was almost as if time were going backward, but only for her, not for him. For him there would be no easy way to forget this woman he loved. He’d have to wrestle with his memories of her for the rest of his life, and for a moment, Kevin felt such a spike of bitterness that he almost got up to leave—until he realized that he would live while she would die. The cruelty of life was on glorious display here. He took in a breath, and then another, then let it out slowly. He waited for his throat to open up, for his voice to be functional.

  “How are you today?” he asked her.

  “I have a little headache,” she said. “But it’s a good day, I think.”

  She was still Alice. So many mornings, he woke up and saw her face, and it’d made him so happy.

  “I love you.”

  She met his eyes for the first time. They were so clear, so blue. How could eyes like that ever dim?

  “I just wanted to say that, more for me than for you,” he added.

  Her slight frown lifted. “That’s good.”

  “Is it okay if I hold your hand?” he asked.

  She paused, weighing his request.

  “I’ll do you one better,” she said, and she took his hand in her hand.

  Outside, rain started falling, quarter-size drops plopping against the windshield. Kevin was back in Judy’s car, having told her of his encounter.

  “You’re angry,” his sister said.

  “What?”

  She pointed at his hand, the hand that Alice had been holding, now a fist.

  “I had things to tell her,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “You’re right,” Judy said. “So tell me. Say what you were going to say to her to me.”

  “This isn’t some therapy session, Judy. This is real.”

  “I know, but maybe it’ll help. Would it hurt to try?”

  Kevin thought it might, but Judy insisted. The drive back to Jersey was five hours, and halfway through the trip, as they were crossing the state of Connecticut, the rain tapered down to cloudy skies and he hadn’t stopped talking. He apologized, he accused, he took responsibility, he blamed. He started from the beginning, when they met at the chiropractor’s office. Alice was waiting to get her back worked on, while he waited for treatment to his left knee, the one that took the brunt of his serves. Neither had believed in love at first sight, but they did believe in its lewder incarnation, sex at fifth date. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love, and this shamed him. It was awful to think that he would continue to bed other women while she would be—

  “Gone,” Judy said. “I’m so sorry, Kevin. I don’t know why we humans have this unquenchable desire to live when we’re all going to die. It’s just a rotten deal.”

  “Maybe you should talk now.” He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

  So she did. Judy told him about her and Roger’s disastrous first date, the dragon tattoo that traversed his back, and about the anhedonia, too, his inability to enjoy life. As Kevin listened to his sister, he thought of that phrase she often quoted about being kind to others, because everyone is fighting his or her own battle. Inside every passing vehicle, there was at least one person who was suffering a private war of his or her own making. Why did it have to be this way? Why was it that when the world was created, when gravity and time and our planet and its primordial soup came into existence, there also had to be pain and sorrow? It was no wonder so many people found comfort in religion. Kevin wished he did, too, but it never seemed right to him, that some great being was in charge.

  “Do you believe in God?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Judy said. “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “I have to tell you, I’m surprised. I mean I know you go to church as often as I do, which is less than never, but I always took you to be a believer.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I just never thought you paid much mind to stuff like this, that you believe what most people believe.”

  “Because I’m a dumb jock.”

  “Because you’re not that complicated, which is a compliment, by the way. What do you believe in, then?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dude,” Judy said. “Really?”

  Was that true? No, not entirely.

  “I believe in us, you and me. That we’re brother and sister, if not by blood, then by habit.”

  Judy laughed. “I am pretty used to you being my brother. We’re a routine.”

  “And that we’ll see each other through, to whatever’s out there.”

  “Always.” She licked her pinky and offered it.

  “Pinky swear.” Kevin licked and linked his with hers. “Now it’s official.”

  After being away for the better part of two months, the sound of his gravel driveway crunching underneath the car’s tires was like the voice of a dependable friend. When he opened the front door, even though he knew full well that Snaps would never greet him again, he heard the silence of her soundless bark, felt the barrenness of her missing furry body. Absence was as substantive as its opposite, perhaps even more so. He leaned against the door jamb as a morbid thought crossed his mind: I’m the last one left. This was no longer his home, it was just a house of sad memories, one he couldn’t continue to pay for anyway, not without a job.

  Judy followed him in with an armful of mail, envelopes falling to the floor as she brought it in. “Two pieces from California.”

  One was what looked like a card envelope, addressed from Claudia. The other was a puffy mailer, about the size of a DVD case.

  “Oh no,” Kevin said, seeing the name on the return address, Norman Kwon. “Not again.”

  “Relax,” Judy said. “Maybe it’s a copy of Brian’s Song.”

  “I’ll bet you a million dollars it’s not Brian’s Song.”

  He opened Claudia’s first. Inside the beige envelope was indeed a card, and on the front was a painting of hers he recognized, the one of her as a shipwrecked alien. Inside, she’d hand-written a note in cursive so perfect that it looked like a font.

  Dear Kevin,

  I know you think, like most people, that the way I live seems immature, childish. But I assure you that it is exactly the opposite. To go with your true intentions no matter what—that is, in my opinion, the most grown-up thing that anyone can do. Even though I’ve been living this way for a number of years now, it still isn’t easy. Denying your sister’s works at the opening was not only difficult, it took a great amount of courage, because I knew it meant I’d lose you. But I cannot compromise my way of life, not at this point, when it is the only reason I exist. Every decision counts, however small, because it is the accrual of t
hose very decisions that determines our fate, our tiny place in this vast, indifferent universe.

  I enjoyed our time together, and it would bring me great pleasure to see you again. I do miss you, more than I thought I would. I doubt you miss me as much, but that’s all right. What matters to me is the way I feel about you, since that’s all that I can control. You’re welcome in my house, so consider this an open invitation. If I were to come home and see you there at the entrance, well, that would be a very good day.

  Claudia

  He showed the note to Judy.

  “She’s still a bitch,” she said.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “But don’t let me stop you from your budding romance. At least with her, you know what you’re getting.”

  He hadn’t thought of Claudia much since the incident at the gallery, but reading the letter reminded him of her strange and uncompromising ways. And her hair, the gloss and thickness of her locks, how she hadn’t bothered to keep the gray at bay. She was right; he hadn’t missed her. But now that she was on his mind, he sort of did.

  “Are you going to open it, or shall I?” Judy asked, pointing at Norman’s envelope.

  He let her have the honor, and sure enough, it was a black plastic case with a disc pinned inside. There was no note, nothing at all but the media. It was déjà vu all over again.

  “Just be glad you have one father and not two,” Kevin said.

  Judy blew off a layer of dust on the remote while Kevin placed the disc into the tray. The couch was full of dust, too, and a fine mist rose up when they sat on it. The side table with the New York Mets coasters, the rug with its red wine stain, the TV stand with the uneven gap between the doors—these signatures were at once familiar and distancing, as if this were all taking place in the future and that he was visiting his house that’d been boarded up.

  Kevin picked up the remote. “I don’t know, sis, if you should see this.”

  “Because it might have naked people in it? Kevin, I’ve probably seen more porn than you have. Do you remember that guy I dated, Barry?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because all he ever did was watch porn. We never left the house.”

  “This is different. It’s my father.”

  “Don’t be a pussy,” she said, and she yanked the remote back. “He’s just a man, like you.”

  She pressed Play, but the screen did not change from the blank black screen.

  Hello, my son, said the voiceover, Norman. After you left, Denise told me everything. I know I shouldn’t have done that, pretending she was my daughter, your sister. You’d think that as a mental health professional, I’d know better. But I’m a human being, and when it comes to you, my son, I’m afraid I do things like this, and I convince myself that they are the right moves to make. I wish I could take it back, but of course, I can’t. We can never undo the things we do. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you.

  Everything else I’ve said, I’ve meant. I want us to be closer. I have trouble elaborating my true feelings to you in person, but not here, not to this microphone. Is it strange that talking to you like this seems more real to me than if you were in front of me? I can answer that question myself. It is strange. I am a strange man. But I’m not a stranger to you. I am your father, and I’m very glad.

  I was going to give this to you as a birthday gift, but I don’t see any reason for waiting. I suppose it could still be your present, just many months early. So happy birthday, Kevin. I look forward to hearing from you soon, my son.

  What followed was a grainy video of an outdoor park, a pink blanket on the ground. There were readouts on the bottom part of the screen: The date, 4/2/1971, and a counter that started from 1:00:00 and increased a second at a time.

  “It’s a rough cut,” Judy said. “When I interned at the video studio way back when, I saw films like this. It’s how it looks before it’s mastered.”

  Two men carrying cables looped around their shoulders walked by, then men holding standing lights. A large camera rolled by. Then there were people dressed like pirates, men with their three-point hats and swords hanging off their belts, a trio of topless women. There were shouts, then suddenly, the light went out.

  They waited two minutes, then three.

  “That’s it?” Judy asked.

  “Maybe we should fast-forward.”

  But they didn’t have to, because the lights came back on, and a female voice cut the silence.

  Norman?

  Right here, love, Norman said.

  The camera shook, then zoomed to the blanket until it filled the frame. Two naked figures jumped on it, and even though the picture wasn’t perfect, the woman was instantly recognizable.

  “That’s my mother,” Kevin said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Looks just like her,” he said.

  Judy paused the video and examined the centerfold picture on the table. She looked back and forth, comparing the two. “Yup,” she said.

  “It has to be her, because that’s him, Norman, forty years ago.” Frozen with his arms extended like a touchdown pose, he was in his physical prime, lean and muscular.

  Judy pressed Play, and it was obvious where this was going.

  “Oh God, no,” Kevin said.

  His mother lay down on her back, and Norman mounted her missionary-style.

  Are we rolling? she asked.

  Oh, it’s rolling, baby, it’s rolling, Norman said.

  They went at it like the kids they were, thumping away amid unrestrained laughter that soon turned into a steady pair of moans.

  “Look at the date, Judy,” Kevin said. “That’s around nine months before I was born. He saved this video for my birthday. Like a present? Jesus.”

  Judy looked at the centerfold picture once again, then stepped away from the couch to get a closer look. Now the two on the screen were doing it doggy-style, the woman facing the camera as the man thrust from the rear, disheveling her wild hair.

  “Please just turn it off,” Kevin said. “I can’t believe he thinks this is—well, no, I guess maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Judy paused the screen again, then advanced the frame one at a time, the frozen expression of Kevin’s young mother in ecstasy fractionally progressing, her mouth opening and closing and opening again.

  “It’s not as if he’s earned your trust,” she said.

  “What—you don’t think that’s her?”

  “It’s perfect, don’t you think? The date on screen, the way she’s facing the camera so you can really see her. Fool me once, shame on you . . .”

  Fool me twice, shame on me. Sad to admit, it hadn’t even occurred to Kevin that Norman could’ve made this up. How naïve of him.

  Judy pressed Play again, and the two people on screen were on the edge of their impending orgasms. The man let out a blissful scream, the woman did likewise, and the screen cut to black.

  “I don’t know,” Judy said. “But you know what? Who gives a fuck. If it’s true, then you just saw something almost no one sees, your own conception. Which is kinda cool and gross at the same time. If the video was fabricated, then Norman spent a lot of time and probably some money making that for you. Either way, he must care for you an awful lot. And isn’t that what matters in the end?”

  Kevin stared at her. “Is it?”

  Judy went into the kitchen and found two tumblers and a bottle of scotch. She poured a double in each.

  “I haven’t a clue, Kevin. But I do know this.”

  She clinked her tumbler to his and raised her glass.

  “Happy early birthday, dear brother. And many more.”

  SATURDAY

  It was a beautiful day, in the high sixties and deep blue skies, an unusually warm afternoon for November, so much so that the tennis match was moved from indoors to out. The courts at this swanky tennis club were nicer than most of the satellite tournaments Kevin had played at, even featuring a concessions stand with a full bar. Alexa would be on
the show court, with four ball boys and a complete set of line judges, because her opponent was the first seed.

  “I don’t like it,” Alexa had said when the official informed them of the change in venue, spinning her racquet with so much torque that it was making Kevin nervous. He snatched it away from her before it could helicopter into a bystander’s head.

  That was an hour and a half ago, before the match began. Alexa’s opponent was taller, bigger, and stronger than she was. She jumped lightly on her feet as they’d called heads or tails at the net. It wasn’t exactly David versus Goliath, but their physical disparity was significant enough for concern. Alexa lost the toss, and it hadn’t gone well since.

  Many professional athletes are known to be superstitious, but Kevin never thought that was the right label. It was that they were people of habit, and it was important for them to keep everything the same, because in that way, they were in control of at least some of the variables. Winning a match required a lot of things to swing your way, especially if your opponent was as tough as this girl was. Her name was Vera, and she had a crushing forehand, one of which she hit so hard that the racquet flew out of Alexa’s grip upon the ball’s impact.

  With the wind at times gusting at twenty miles an hour, Alexa couldn’t always let loose with her backhand down the line, and it was hurting her. Last-minute court changes weren’t uncommon on the tour, especially at the lower levels, so this was a good learning experience for her. And for him, too. He was enjoying this one-on-one coaching far more than he’d imagined. It was different than at the tennis club, because the game was on now, and whatever he could convey to Alexa had immediate results. Nothing quite like instant gratification.

  The first set went quickly, 6–2 in Vera’s favor, and Alexa was already down a break in the second set, 2–3. Because on-court coaching was now allowed by the WTA at non-Grand Slam events, it was allowed in junior tournaments as well.

  After taking a long drink from her water bottle, Alexa walked over to where Kevin was sitting, in the front row of the bleachers. There were perhaps two dozen people in the stands, mostly family and friends.