Invisible as Air

by Zoe Fishman

  So getting a ride was a much better option, although he hadn’t anticipated that both his mom and dad would be escorting him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in the car with both of them at the same time. His father’s bald spot was getting bigger, he noticed. Before it had been more of an Alabama shape, but now it was more like Texas. A shiny Texas.

  And as far as Krystal went, it felt good to tell someone. If it had to be his parents, so be it. The night before had gone off without a hitch. Krystal had left before they came home, so there was no need for an illicit escape, but Teddy’s anxiety had almost robbed him of enjoying their date. And it had been a date. They had kissed on his bed for seven minutes. Seven minutes. With tongue. Teddy smiled out the window at the green trees whizzing by. Tongues touching. An unpleasant idea in theory but in reality: wow.

  Next he supposed he would have to come clean about his use of his dad’s phone. But that meant asking him about this T.B. person, didn’t it? Teddy had no interest in doing that.

  He glanced at his mother, her dark hair piled on top of her head, clipped into its customary figure-six shape with her tortoiseshell clip, a horizontal slash of amber and brown swirls clamped across her black curls. Teddy had not forgotten about the pills. But maybe they weren’t the catastrophe he was making them out to be in his mind. Maybe she had just stashed them there accidentally, en route to tossing them. No, that was ridiculous. But maybe they were, like, not the bad kind of Oxys. Maybe they just took the edge off, which is what Raj said his mom did, with her Xanax. And maybe they were just for emergencies. She seemed fine. Not like herself, but fine. Better than fine, even. Happy. Open.

  Teddy decided that he would just keep his mouth shut about everything as far as his parents’ secrets were concerned. It was the easier option. His mom turned the car into the circular drive of Twilight Manor, and Teddy pushed the thought to the back of his mind, out of the way.

  “Should I just park over here?” asked his mom, driving into the back lot.

  “Says Visitor Parking,” answered his dad. “I guess so.” He turned to face Teddy. “You’re not an employee, right?”

  “Dad, how could I be an employee if I’m not getting paid?” asked Teddy.

  “Well, not an employee, but not a visitor,” said his mom. “I guess we’ll figure that out after you speak to, what’s her name? Ms. James?”

  “Ms. Jones, Mom,” Teddy snapped, his affection toward her short-lived.

  Why was it that every name of every person he ever told his mother about turned into something else? Jones became James, Raj had been Bob for a solid month before she had met him, and on and on. What would she do to Krystal’s name? He could only imagine.

  “Fine. And we’re coming in with you,” she added, parking.

  “Mom! You agreed not to!”

  “I know, I know, but we have to meet her, for God’s sake. Make sure this isn’t a crack house we’re sending you to.”

  “Yeah, Mom, it’s a crack house,” snarled Teddy, undoing his seat belt and opening the door.

  “T, watch your tone,” said his dad.

  They followed behind him, toward the vanilla-frosted birthday cake that was Twilight Manor. I should have taken the bike, thought Teddy, his annoyance with both of them an unscratchable itch deep within him.

  “Please, just say hello and then let me do my thing?” he pleaded, turning around to face them. “Let me talk to her about Movie Night by myself?”

  “Okay, no problem,” said his dad. “This is your thing. Right, Sylvie?”

  “We can’t even suggest a few—”

  “No!” Teddy yelled, now close to tears.

  “I’m just kidding, honey,” said his mom, pulling him toward her for a hug. “I’m just kidding. Sorry.”

  Teddy squirmed away; he did not want to be touched. When he looked back at her, her eyes were sad.

  “Let’s go in,” he said. Her sadness was not his problem.

  The glass doors slid open, punching him with a blast of air conditioning. He walked in tentatively, his parents behind him.

  Twilight Manor was a series of concentric circles placed on top of one another, its circular floors dotted with apartment doors and rimmed with white wood balconies overlooking the lobby, where they stood now. It was filled with myriad bouquets of flowers in pale pink, white, lavender, fuchsia and green; a few stiff-looking couches in baby blue and off-white with gleaming cherrywood arms and legs and a baby grand piano in the corner. An elevator ran up the center of the circles, and at the very top, a huge, circular skylight, which bathed everything in a hazy, golden glow.

  “Not a bad place to die,” whispered his mother, all three of them silenced by its unexpected grandeur.

  Where were all the residents, though? Teddy wondered. It was as silent as, well, a tomb, for lack of a better word.

  “You must be Theodore,” a deep voice rang out, making Teddy jump.

  He turned to face the greeting, although no one called him Theodore, not ever.

  “I am,” he answered. She approached him at a brisk clip, striding across the room in fuchsia stiletto heels.

  “Jackie Jones,” she said, smiling broadly. “And you must be the proud parents of our young Spielberg,” she added, extending her hand to shake his parents’.

  Jackie put her hands on her patterned hips. She was encased in turquoise, red and chartreuse triangles that danced dizzyingly across the formfitting black backdrop of her dress. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head, hugging it save for a sweeping wave across her forehead. Her caramel-colored skin glowed, like it was lit from the inside. She was barefaced, with no jewelry, except for a neon-orange Fitbit encircling her wrist.

  “So, Theodore, tell me more about your plans. Do you all want to join me in my office?”

  “Oh no, we’ll stay out here,” said his father. “Maybe I’ll try out the piano.” Teddy gave him a small, grateful smile.

  “‘Chopsticks’ is his specialty,” his mother added. His parents suddenly seemed very small and very white to Teddy in the presence of Jackie Jones.

  “Be my guest, but don’t be surprised if Elmer appears out of nowhere to rap your knuckles with a ruler. He’s our resident piano man, spent fifty years teaching and performing. Although Saturdays are slow around here; he’s probably napping with his hearing aids out, so you’re safe,” said Jackie.

  “Come on, Theodore,” she said, quickly pivoting on the spikes of her heels.

  Teddy followed her, reaching around to make sure his notepad was still in his back pocket. Making contact with its spiraled edge comforted him. He squeezed it slightly, its metal cold through the cotton of his chinos. His mother had insisted he wear these pants, and he had put up a fight, but now he was glad.

  “So,” she said, from behind her massive cherrywood desk. Two guest chairs sat in front of it, their seats covered in a shiny rose-colored fabric. Teddy perched on one of them, facing her.

  “Are those your sons?” he asked, admiring the photo of four little boys in plaid shirts and bow ties, each one slightly taller than the next—all of them with Jackie’s broad smile. Jackie threw back her head and laughed.

  “Bless your heart, Theodore. Those are my grandsons.” Teddy was shocked. Jackie looked younger than his mother, her face as unlined as the moon.

  “I’m sixty-two,” she told him. “Amazing what proper diet, exercise and nutrition can do,” she said. “It’ll turn back the clock.”

  Teddy thought of his own mother. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen her drink a glass of water. On cue, Jackie took a long swig of water from an insulated silver bottle as big as Teddy’s forearm.

  “But let’s get down to business, shall we? Movie Night at Twilight Manor, I love it. I just love it, and I know our community will too. Tell me what you’re thinking.” She placed her water bottle back on her desk with a thud. “Give me your vision, Theodore.”

  He was getting tired of being called Theodore, but he would worry about that later.r />
  “Sure. So, I love movies. They’ve been my passion since I understood what they were,” he explained. “And I have this Mitzvah Project. For my Bar Mitzvah?” He paused, assuming he would have to explain, since he always did.

  “I know all about that. My son married a Jewish woman. You see that seven-year-old right there?” She pointed to the photo on her desk. “He’s fifteen now. His mama made us go all the way to Israel for his, which you know I had something to say about initially, but in the end: the trip of a lifetime. Not that I’d tell her that.” She pursed her lips. “Anyway, go on, Theodore.”

  “Oh, cool. I’ve never been,” he said, referring to Israel. “But so, I’ve been doing the wrong thing for my project, something I don’t even care about—”

  “I know, Patty Platt told me.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’m not a pet person either. All that dog hair all over my clothes? No thank you.”

  Teddy’s cheeks warmed. Patty Platt, mom of Krystal Platt.

  “Right. But I have a month of my project left, and I’d love to come here once a week for Movie Night. Maybe Saturday nights?” Jackie nodded, looking at the enormous calendar that covered the expanse of her desk.

  “That could work, although we’d have to move Tai Chi. You’re supplying the movies?”

  “Yes ma’am. I have a lot of DVDs.”

  “Okay, I like a man who brings his own supplies. Perfect.” She looked up from her calendar. “Theodore, we have a deal. Can we start next Saturday?”

  “Sure,” he answered.

  “Great. Let me show you to the movie theater.” Teddy’s eyes widened. “Well, we can call it a theater for your purposes, but really it’s just a big television with a bunch of chairs.” She stood up and made her way out of the office. “Come on.”

  He followed her to the elevator, passing his parents, who looked up expectantly on the way. Teddy gave them a subtle thumbs-up, and they both beamed at him. Okay, he liked them again.

  Jackie pressed the up button, and the elevator opened immediately. They got on, and she pressed three with a chartreuse fingernail.

  “How come you like movies so much?” she asked, as they made their short ascent.

  “They’re like real life, but better,” he answered. “Like everything you wish you could say and do in real time, but you don’t have the agility or cleverness for it? Plus, there’s always a happy ending.”

  The door opened.

  “That’s a very astute answer for a twelve-year-old,” said Jackie.

  “I guess,” said Teddy.

  He followed her down the hall, past a few apartment doors, their numbers on gleaming brass plaques, and into the TV room. A giant television screen filled the wall to his right, and in front of it, two brown leather couches were in a semicircle. Four navy-blue velvet chairs, their plump cushions slightly worn, sat behind them, also facing the entertainment. A few round cherrywood tables with two chairs each lined the remaining walls. An enormous Turkish rug covered the expanse of floor, a kaleidoscope of both muted and vibrant blue threads.

  “This is the nicest retirement home I’ve ever seen,” said Teddy. “It’s also the only retirement home I’ve ever seen, but still.” Light streamed in through the three windows lining the wall.

  “Well, thank you, Theodore. And it is the nicest retirement home you’ll ever see, by the way. I want our residents to feel good. Everyone calls them the golden years, but they hardly ever look golden.”

  Teddy thought of his Pop, his dad’s dad, who sat in his leather recliner all day watching C-SPAN. “That’s true,” he said.

  “Not so here,” said Jackie proudly. “And you get what you pay for too; it’s a pretty penny to live at Twilight Manor. So.” She paused. “This movie night of yours has to be a class act, okay? I’m all for this Mitzvah Project, but no way would you be here without Krystal’s blessing. I love me some Krystal.”

  Teddy blushed. “Oh yes, don’t worry. It’s going to be very classy,” he replied. “And I’m grateful for the opportunity. Thank you, Ms. Jones.”

  “You can call me Jackie, honey,” she said.

  “Hello!” a man’s voice bellowed from the doorway.

  “Morty,” said Jackie fondly. “Good day to you.”

  “To you as well.”

  Morty looked Teddy up and down through black-rimmed glasses, his blue eyes magnified comically by the density of his lenses. Above the tops of the frames perched two furry, wiry gray eyebrows that could have easily passed as caterpillars. His head was shiny and bald down the middle, paved on either side by the same wiry gray hair. He wore a navy-blue Brooklyn Dodgers T-shirt, which stretched tautly over his generous midsection, and khaki shorts held up by a wide, black leather belt. On his feet, navy-and-white-striped rubber slides over black trouser socks.

  “And you are?” he asked Teddy.

  “Teddy Snow,” he answered.

  “Morty Stein,” he replied, pumping Teddy’s hand vigorously, a slight smile across his lips. “Good handshake, Teddy. Very good.”

  Teddy puffed up, feeling proud.

  “Are you the movie fellow?” he asked, his voice as New York as the Chrysler Building.

  “I am.” Teddy looked at Jackie for confirmation, and she gave him an encouraging nod. “I’ll be hosting Movie Night here. On Saturdays.”

  “What about Tai Chi?” asked Morty, sounding alarmed.

  “Gonna move that to Wednesdays for the month,” answered Jackie. “No biggie.”

  “Okay. Good.” He turned back to Teddy, visibly relieved. “I love Tai Chi,” he informed him. “But I also love movies, so this is a good thing. What do you have planned?”

  “Each night will be a surprise,” said Teddy, devising his plan on the spot.

  “But how will I know whether I want to come if it’s a surprise?” asked Morty. A valid question.

  “Oh, well, I guess you have a point,” said Teddy.

  “He does,” said Jackie. “Theodore, you email me your list of what you’re showing on what days and I’ll have it printed up on a flyer for all the residents.”

  “Cinema Saturdays,” said Morty, smiling. “That’s what you should call it.”

  “I like that, Mr. Stein,” said Teddy.

  “I was in advertising,” he offered. “Just comes naturally. And you can call me Morty.”

  “Oh okay. Morty.”

  “I’ll go ahead and put out an APB, kid. This is gonna be big. Who doesn’t love the movies?” He looked at Jackie. “We can get more chairs, right?”

  “Of course, Morty. Okay, Theodore, are we good?” asked Jackie. “I’m going to need that list from you by tonight, so I can get everyone excited for next Saturday.”

  They both stared at Teddy expectantly, as though he had his list at the ready, which he did not.

  “Sure, no problem,” he said.

  “Great. See you next Saturday, kid,” said Morty, clapping him on the shoulder and making his way to one of the couches. “Time for some Judge Judy.”

  The room began to fill with other Twilight Manorees, shuffling in for what looked to be a regular date. Old men and women: some short, some tall, all of them wrinkled and in varying degrees of cotton comfort. The scent of Bengay, coffee and baby powder filled the air.

  Teddy took the elevator down with Jackie, wondering just what he was getting into. He didn’t even know if he liked old people. Would he be able to command an entire room of them? What if they hated the movies he picked? He cringed, imagining what mutiny at the gnarled hands of octogenarians would feel like.

  “Don’t worry, Theodore,” said Jackie. “They’re pussycats, really. And they’re lonely.” The door opened onto the lobby, his parents reading the paper. “Their kids, they don’t visit them like they should.”

  As the elevator closed behind them, Jackie shook his hand.

  “Don’t forget to send me that list tonight,” she reminded him.

  “Will do. And thanks again.”

  Teddy approached his
parents, who were standing now, waiting for him. The way they looked at him sometimes, like they were amazed by his mere existence, he felt that. It was a nice feeling, to feel that kind of wonder directed toward him, but it was also too much. Sometimes.

  “How’d it go?” his father asked.

  “Good,” said Teddy. “Let’s go.”

  He led the way, his parents right behind him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paul

  Paul looked down at his leg. His pale, practically green, spindly leg. It looked like it belonged on a dining room chair, not on a man. Just that morning, he had had his cast taken off in the sterile examination room, both he and Sylvie recoiling from the dank odor his previously trapped limb had released. A giant exhale of stink.

  “Oh my God, it smells exactly like the inside of a belly button,” Sylvie had said, from behind the hand she had placed over her mouth.

  “I don’t even notice it anymore,” said the doctor, without so much as looking up.

  Paul sighed now, sitting on the back deck, out of the sun. Carpenter bees hung in the air around him and the air was filled with the smell of honeysuckle. Summer.

  Seized suddenly by the urge to move, to ride, to do anything other than just sit there, Paul decided to transfer his stationary bike from the garage into the driveway. On the phone, the physical therapist had told him to take it slow, to not do anything too taxing with his leg prior to meeting with her, but screw it.

  Limping slightly, he descended the deck’s steps onto the lawn when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Probably work—he was supposed to be supervising a project right now. He stopped, pulled it out. Reading the incoming caller’s name, he grimaced. His mother. Should he, or shouldn’t he? He didn’t want to. It continued to vibrate, sending waves of guilt through the palm of his hand.

  “Hi, Mom,” he answered sourly, not able to screen her.

  “Paul, what in the world am I supposed to wear to Teddy’s Bar Mitzvah?” she began, launching right into it, as per usual.

  His mother did not waste time, despite the fact that all she had was time to waste. She had retired from teaching after thirty-one years of reprimanding kindergartners, and from what Paul could tell, she nagged his father, went to the grocery store to buy Lean Cuisines and watched HGTV. End stop.