by Sharon Potts
Superman. Javier ran a hand over his smooth scalp, feeling the slight rise at the top that made his bald head resemble the pointed end of an egg. Gabriel still had a full head of thick blond hair, like Javier once did. Like father, like son, as the expression goes. But hopefully he would be able to keep his son from making the same mistake Javier had.
Javier approached the table closest to the ocean at which a group of well-dressed women were seated. In his self-created capacity as an event coordinator for the geriatric community, he had organized the luncheon and fashion show, selecting invitees from databases of elderly females with Central European backgrounds.
“Good day, ladies.” He pushed his dark glasses up on his head and turned on his Spanish accent, which he’d lost for the most part when he and his father moved from Argentina to Cincinnati many years before. Javier had discovered that this crowd had a penchant for cosmopolitan foreignness. “I’ve arranged a little ocean breeze for you today. I hope it’s not too chilly. If it is, I can dial the wind down a little.”
Most of the women smiled back, a couple of them laughed, one stared at him stone-faced. He met her eyes. A cloudy brown. She looked away, perhaps spooked by the odd teardrop-shape in one of his own green irises.
His gaze shifted from face to face around the table as he studied each woman in turn, assessing eye color, apparent age, facial structure. No matches. He wasn’t surprised. His review of the attendees’ vital statistics had already told him that she probably wasn’t here, though he believed in confirming in person in the event of a clerical error.
He went smoothly into his planned spiel, focusing on the mannish-looking blonde with skin like a dehydrated apple, penciled-in eyebrows, and a cool manner. “Excuse me, madam.” He shook his head with practiced astonishment. “I’m sure you must hear this all the time, but you bear an uncanny resemblance to Marlene Dietrich.” He turned to the other women. “Don’t you agree?”
They nodded and made muffled noises.
“The Blue Angel,” said the stone-faced one. “A classic.”
Javier brightened. “I love those old films myself. I’m a bit of a collector, you know.” He leaned into the group and lowered his baritone voice. “In fact,” he said, noting the women straining to hear him, “I heard a wonderful Austrian actress who appeared in several classic films before the War is living right here on Miami Beach.”
“Before the War?” said the mannish blonde. “She must be pretty old.”
There was no other reaction, no spark of recognition or concern, so Javier stepped back from the table. “Well, ladies, if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call upon me. And enjoy your event today.” He gave a big smile. “Sei gesund.”
He checked their faces before moving on. Smiles all around, even Ms. Stoneface. “Zie gezunt,” she said.
Javier pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes and felt his lip twitch downward in revulsion. They always mistook his German for Yiddish, corrupting the pure as though it was their entitlement.
He retreated quickly, so they wouldn’t sense his reaction.
The breeze picked up on the ocean terrace. The sky had clouded over and the turquoise water had darkened. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lit up, inhaled deeply, and slowly let it out.
He would finish making his rounds of the attendees, then head back to his office where he’d check his classic films website for any new orders, then follow up on the fire rescue report of the woman brought in for smoke inhalation.
He took another drag. He wondered if Gabriel had looked at the business card Javier had given him last night. Whether despite the lies and hatred Gabriel had been fed most of his life, he would be curious or interested enough to call his father. But even if not this time, Javier would persevere.
This Superman wasn’t put off by a little kryptonite.
13
“I’m not sure how much longer,” Kali said into her cell phone. Her legs dangled over the seawall of the vacant lot across from her grand-mother’s house and her sketchpad and pencils lay on the concrete ledge beside her. Overgrown trees and wild hedges covered the property, blocking her view of the street. “Maybe two or three days. I think she needs to get used to the idea of an aide gradually. I’m sure I’ll be home by Friday.”
“Friday?” Seth said.
She could tell from his breathing that he was pacing, probably outside the courthouse. He was on a short lunch break before he needed to return to his trial.
“Maybe Thursday.”
“You need to be firm with her.” He always sounded different to her when he was at work. Like he had a tough time switching out of lawyer mode.
“I won’t bully her, Seth.”
“I didn’t say bully. This is for her own safety.”
“As long as I’m staying with her, she’s safe.”
“And what happens if after a couple of days, she still refuses to hire an aide?”
A flock of small birds flew up from the copse of areca palms at the edge of the bay, hovered briefly over the water, then landed on the thatched roof of the boat dock of an adjacent house.
“I’m sure I can persuade her.”
“You should think about getting her Baker-Acted,” Seth said.
The broken edge of the seawall dug through Kali’s leggings into the back of her thigh. “What are you talking about?”
“The Florida Mental Health Act of 1971. You can fill out an Ex Parte Petition for Involuntary Examination.”
“Whoa. Wait. You’re saying I should have my grandmother committed?”
“Not committed. Just observed for seventy-two hours. After lighting all those Yahrzeit candles and setting her house on fire, it’s obvious she can’t take care of herself. I’m sure you’ll be named guardian. Then you’ll be able to make the necessary arrangements for her.”
It was low tide and the water was well below her, but the thick smell of decomposing vegetation rose up. “I’m not doing that, Seth.”
“I can look into it for you,” he said as though he hadn’t heard her. “There must be a facility on Miami Beach where we can bring her.”
“You’re not listening. I won’t do that.”
“What? What do you mean you won’t do that?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“I’m not putting my grandmother in some kind of home.”
“That’s not what I said. Damn it, Kali. I’m trying to come up with a solution here. I’m simply suggesting that you take the appropriate legal steps so you can become her guardian and help her make the best decisions.”
“I don’t want to force her. Can’t you understand that? Let me try to do this so she can have some dignity.”
There was a long silence. A motorboat zipped across the bay, leaving spreading ripples in its wake.
“I have to get back to court.”
“Please don’t be angry. She’s my grandmother. I’m the only one she has.”
“I get that. But what I don’t get is why this woman, who showed you virtually no love and affection when you were growing up, is more important than you and me and our baby.”
A lone bird flew toward the thatched roof carrying a broken twig in its beak.
“Why does it have to be a choice? She’s my family, too. I told you, I’ll make arrangements for an aide, then I’ll be home.”
She could hear him taking in a deep breath. “Please, baby. I need you.”
“I understand,” she said in a softer voice. “I’ll do what I can.”
There was a moment of silence, then he said, “Okay. We’ll talk later.”
Kali put her phone in her pocket. Her hands clutched the rough ledge and she glanced at the sketch she was working on—the golden-haired cherub floating upward toward the beautiful fairy’s open arms.
The rustling of weeds and light thumps in the vacant lot startled her. Before Kali could turn, something hard and pointy pushed against her side. She screamed.
“Gizmo,” Neil called from the bushe
s near the street. “Damn it, Gizmo. Get over here.”
Kali took a deep breath to calm herself. The dog looked back at her with his one brown eye. “Hey, boy. You startled me.”
Neil strode through the tangled undergrowth toward them. He was wearing jogging shorts and a white T-shirt, his lower arms and hands still bandaged. “I’m really sorry. Gizmo literally pulled out of his collar to run to you.” The dog’s leash, still attached to a frayed collar, hung around Neil’s neck.
“It’s okay.”
He squatted next to her and slipped the collar back over Gizmo’s head.
Kali had reconciled Neil’s longish hair and the few days’ beard growth with the teenage boy she’d once known. It was as though they’d fast-forwarded through the last fourteen years.
“You’re not trustworthy,” Neil said to the dog, “so I’m tightening your collar a notch.”
Gizmo settled down on the seawall, his warm body pressed up against Kali’s. Kali had never had a pet and was surprised that she didn’t mind the dog so close to her. In fact, she liked it.
“Are you up for some company?” Neil asked.
“Sure.”
Neil sat down and let his lean legs drop over the wall. They were tanned and covered with dark hair that looked as soft as Gizmo’s fur.
Neil glanced over at Kali’s drawing. “May I?” he asked, reaching for the sketchpad.
“Sure, but it’s not finished.”
When they were kids, she’d always shared her artwork with him and he’d been a wonderful critic as well as one of her biggest fans. But now, as he studied the drawing, Kali felt surprisingly exposed. As though the picture revealed something of herself to him.
“Interesting. Your cherub almost looks like a fetus, except for the wings, of course. The head and torso are developed, but not the limbs.”
Kali took the sketchpad away from him and turned it facedown on her lap.
“I didn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it. In fact, it’s very good. Just unusual. I’ve never seen cherubim portrayed quite like that.”
“Well, it’s just a sketch.”
“You’re working on an oil, too?”
“How’d you know?”
“You seem to be using yourself for a canvas.” He nodded at the paint on her leggings.
She smiled. “I rent a studio in Dania. It’s a good, open space and I’m able to work better there than at home. I guess it’s Dr. Jekyll–Mr. Hyde syndrome. I’m a very different person when I’m immersed in my art.”
“I get that.”
“My new painting. It’s very special to me, but I’m not sure how others would react to it.”
“Would you let me come by the studio sometime to see it?”
She took in a deep breath. “Sure.”
Neil glanced back at the overgrown lot. The old banyan tree was huge now and ficus bushes and Brazilian pepper had taken over much of the area where they used to throw a Frisbee around.
“You probably don’t remember,” Neil said finally. “But this was the first place we ever had a real conversation.”
“The day of my mother’s funeral.”
He nodded. “I was surprised you were wearing shorts and a T-shirt. You’d been in a dress earlier.”
Kali looked down at her red sneakers dangling against the sea-wall. “I changed when we got back from the cemetery and I threw the dress into the trash. I thought if I made believe it hadn’t happened, then she wouldn’t really be dead.”
“I didn’t know what to talk to you about. I was embarrassed to say anything about your mom, so I asked if you liked Springsteen.”
“That’s right.”
“And you said you saw his music in primary colors—mainly red and blue, with an occasional flash of yellow.”
“You remember that?”
“I thought you were the most interesting girl I’d ever met.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “And the saddest.”
Kali wrapped her arms around her knees, the sketchpad resting against her chest like a shield.
“I used to watch you and your mom together,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“When you’d come to visit your grandparents on Sundays, I could see you from my bedroom window. Sometimes your mom would play ball with you.”
“She was a terrible athlete, but she was always trying to make up for me not having a dad.”
“He died when you were a baby, right?”
Kali nodded. “I don’t remember him.” She dug a small rock from the dirt beside the seawall and threw it into the bay. It made a tiny ripple.
“Your mom was a lot different from your grandmother.”
Kali turned to look at him, surprised that he’d observed so much. “How do you mean?”
“Lillian’s inscrutable, never showing any real emotion.”
“Other than irritation, maybe.”
He smiled. “But your mom was vivid. Her feelings seemed to run the gamut. Like a rainbow. One minute, she’d be all lightness, laughing and singing. Then, I’d see her sullen and dark, hustling you into the car.”
Kali had forgotten that. How the Sunday visits often ended with her mother furious with her grandmother. Her grandfather running out to the car. Please, Dorothy, don’t go. She only wants what’s best for you. How angry her mother would be when they returned home. Sometimes she wouldn’t speak to Kali for hours. And Kali blamed her grandmother for ruining everything.
“After you moved in with your grandparents,” Neil continued, “I used to see you around school all the time. Kids tried to make friends with you, but you weren’t interested.”
“What was the point? I’d made friends at my last school and lost them all.”
“And if anyone asked how you were doing, you always said you were fine.”
Gizmo pressed closer against her. She could feel him panting.
“You never asked how I was doing.” Kali looked down at her knees. There were a couple of smudges of turquoise paint on her denim leggings.
“I didn’t have to. I knew you weren’t fine.”
Kali felt a tightening in her throat.
“You know, Kali, you can talk to me. I’m still a pretty good listener.”
The sky had clouded up and the bay had darkened. The flock of birds rose up from the thatched roof, but seemed to be hovering in place.
“She’s so damn stubborn,” Kali said.
“Your grandmother won’t let you hire an aide?”
Kali nodded. “And Seth doesn’t understand that I need to stay with her until I work things out.”
“He seems like a reasonable guy.”
“He usually is. But he’s being irrational about me staying here with her.”
“I see.” Their eyes met for an instant, then they both looked away.
“Ah, what the hell,” Kali said. “I’m not being honest. Not with Seth, not with myself. It’s more than concern for Lillian.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I’m worried about her putting herself in danger, but that’s not why I want to stay.”
“Why then?”
“I need to know who I am, Neil. Where I came from. After my dad died, my mom never made an effort to stay in touch with his parents, and now they’re both dead. I have no living relatives except for Lillian. And she’s finally opening up to me. Telling me things about my mom that I never knew.”
“That’s great.”
“Is it?” Her sketchpad pressed against her abdomen and she put it down on the ledge. “Some of her ramblings are lovely. Like about my mom learning to curtsey. But then she hints at other things, darker things.”
He glanced down at the sketch, at the fairy’s open arms. Four arms, like Kali always drew. “You think she’s hidden things from you?”
“I know she has. But I never believed there was anything truly terrible in her past.”
“And now you think there may be?”
“I don’t know. But good or bad,
I need to understand who she is, who I am.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “My child deserves that much.”
“So stay here with her.”
Kali shook her head. “That’s not being fair to Seth.”
“How about this? You go back home, then come visit your grandmother for a few hours each day to do your bonding. I can keep an eye on her when you’re not around. It’ll probably irritate her that I’m checking up on her, but I’ll bet she’ll put up with that knowing the alternative.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Neil.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He got up stiffly from the seawall, as though still hurting from his burns. “Then once she gets used to the idea of someone around her house, she’ll probably be willing to have an aide.” He held out his bandaged hand to help Kali. “Come on. I’ll walk you back. Let’s see how she reacts to the idea.”
“I’m good. Thanks.” Kali stood up, ignoring his hand, and brushed off the back of her dress. “Are you sure? I feel like it’s an imposition.”
Gizmo pulled on the leash, ready to go. “Not an imposition at all. Something you may not know is that the last few years, your grandmother had been looking in on my mom.”
“My grandmother?”
Neil smiled. “Right? Who would have imagined her playing Good Samaritan? But she brought my mom dinner and checked on her in the morning. In fact,” he pushed his glasses up, “your grandmother was the one who called to tell me she felt my mom couldn’t manage on her own anymore.”
“I had no idea. I’m glad to hear Lillian has the capacity to be kind to someone.”
They got to the front door. There was a rumble of distant thunder. Kali put the key in the lock. “So I guess Lillian knows Gizmo and won’t mind him visiting, either.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Neil said with a laugh.
They stepped into the house. It was quiet. Kali had been gone under an hour. She’d left her grandmother in the TV room, but no sound came from there.
“Lillian,” Kali called. “I’m here with Neil.”