“Your own what?”
“None of your business,” I said. “Let’s drop the conversation. I should have kept my mouth shut. I end up sounding like a whiner, which is not what I intend.”
“You’re always so worried about sounding like a whiner,” he said. “Who cares if you whine? Be my guest.”
“Oh, now you say that.”
“Say what?” he said, exasperated.
I assumed an attitude of patience that I scarcely felt. “One of the first things you ever said to me was that you wanted-how did you phrase it ‘obedience without whining.’ You said very few women ever mastered that.”
“I said that?”
“Yes, you did. I’ve tried very hard ever since not to whine in your presence.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t mean it that way,” he said. “I don’t even remember, saying it, but I was probably talking about something else. Anyway, don’t change the subject. I don’t want to leave it on this note. As long as the issue’s on the table, let’s get it settled.”
“What’s to settle? We can’t settle anything. There’s no way to resolve it, so let’s drop the whole business. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’ve already got this ongoing family nonsense. Maybe I’m upset about that.”
“What nonsense? You’re related to these people, so what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to get into it. Aside from whining, I hate to feel like I’m repeating myself.”
“How can you repeat yourself when you never told me to begin with?”
I ran a hand through my hair and stared down at the tabletop. I’d been hoping to avoid the subject, but the topic did seem safer than discussing our relationship, whatever that consisted of. I couldn’t come up with any rational defense of my reluctance to engage with this newfound family of mine. I just didn’t want to do it. Finally, I said, “I guess I don’t like to be pressured. They’re so busy trying to make up for lost time. Why can’t they just mind their own business? I’m not comfortable with all this buddy-buddy stuff. You know how stubborn I get when I’m pushed.”
“Why did you agree to work for that attorney then? Isn’t she your cousin?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t intend to agree. I intended to turn her down, but then greed and curiosity got the better of me. I have a living to earn and I didn’t want to refuse out of perversity. I know I’ll regret it, but I’m into it now so there’s no sense beating myself up.”
“Sounds harmless enough on the face of it.”
“It’s not harmless. It’s annoying. And besides, that isn’t the point. The point is, I’d like for them to respect my boundaries.”
“What boundaries? She hired you to do a job. As long as you get paid, that’s the end of it.”
“Let’s hope. Besides, it’s not her so much as the other two. Liza and Pam. If I give an inch, they’ll invade my space.”
“Oh, bullshit. That’s California psychobabble. You can’t live your life like a radio talk show.”
“What do you know? I don’t notice you all cozied up to your family.”
I could see him flinch. His expression shifted abruptly to one of injury and irritation. “Low blow. What I say about my kids, I don’t want you throwing back in my face.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I withdraw the remark.”
“Withdraw the knife and the wound’s still there,” he snapped. “What’s the matter with you? You’re so bristly these days. You’re doing everything you can to keep me at arm’s length.”
“I am not,” I said, and then I stared at him, squinting. “Is that true?”
“Well, look at your behavior. I haven’t even been here two days and we’re already fighting. What’s that about? I didn’t travel all this way to pick a fight with you. I wanted to see you. I was excited we’d have time together. Hell. If I’d wanted to fight, I could have stayed with Naomi.”
“Why didn’t you? I don’t mean the question in a mean-hearted way, but I’m curious. What happened?”
“Oh, who knows? I have my version, she has hers. Sometimes I think relationships have a natural lifespan. Ours ran out. That’s all it was. The explanations come afterwards when you try to make sense of it. Let’s get back to you. What’s going on in your head?”
“I’d rather fight than feel nothing.”
“Those are your only two options?”
“That’s what it feels like, but I couldn’t say for sure.”
He reached out and gave my hair a tug. “What am I going to do with you?”
“What am I going to do with you?” I replied.
SEVEN
When we returned to the apartment at ten-fifteen, Henry’s kitchen light was on. Dietz said his knee was killing him, so he let himself into the apartment where he intended to take a couple of pain pills, prop his feet up, and put his ice pack to work. I said I’d be along momentarily. Our conversation at Rosie’s hadn’t really gone anywhere. I couldn’t bear to continue and I couldn’t bear behaving as though the subject hadn’t been broached. I didn’t know what I wanted from him and I wasn’t sure how to say it anyway, so I just ended up sounding needy. My general policy is this: If your mind isn’t open, keep your mouth shut, too.
I knocked on Henry’s backdoor, waving at him through the window when he looked up at me. He was sitting in his rocking chair with the evening paper and his glass of Jack Daniel’s. He smiled and waved back, setting the paper aside so he could let me in. He had the heat turned up and the inside air was not only warm, but deliciously scented with yesterday’s cinnamon rolls.
“This feels great. It’s really cold out there,” I said. The kitchen table was covered with old black-and-white photographs sorted into piles. I glanced at them briefly as I pulled out a kitchen chair and turned my attention to him. From my point of view, Henry Pitts is perfection-smart, good-natured, and responsible-with the cutest legs I’ve ever seen. He’s been my landlord for five years, since the day I spotted the ad for the apartment in a Laundromat. Henry was looking for a long-term tenant who was clean and quiet; no children, loud parties, or small, yapping dogs. As a lifelong mobile home inhabitant, I was addicted to compact spaces, but ready to limit contact with a lot of close, unruly neighbors. Trailer-park life, for all its virtues, entails an intimate acquaintance with other people’s private business. Since I make a living as a snoop, I’d just as soon keep my personal affairs to myself. The converted single-car garage Henry was offering was better than my fantasies and affordable as well. Since then, the place had been bombed and rebuilt, the interior fitted out in teak and as cleverly designed as a ship’s.
From the outset, Henry and I established just enough of a relationship to suit us both. Over the years, he’s managed to civilize me to some extent and I’m certainly more agreeable now than I was back then. Little by little, we forged the bond between us until now I consider him the exemplary mix of friend and generic family member.
“You want a cup of tea?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I just stopped to say hi before I hit the sack. Are these family pictures?” I asked, picking one at random.
“That’s the claim,” he said. “Nell sent me those. She came across two boxes of old family photographs, but none are labeled. No names, no dates. She hasn’t an idea who these people are and neither do the other sibs. What a mess. Take my word for it. You should mark all your photographs, even if it’s just a quick note on the back. You might know who’s who, but nobody else will.”
“Do they look familiar to you?”
“A few.” He took the print I was looking at and squinted as he held it to the light. I peered over his shoulder. The woman in the picture must have been in her twenties, with a broad, bland face and hair drawn back in a bun. She wore a white middy blouse, with a calf-length skirt, dark stockings, and flat, dark shoes with a bow across the instep. Standing beside her was a glum-faced girl of eight with a drop-waist sailor dress and ankle-high lace up shoes. “I believe this is a picture of my mother’s younger sister, Augusta, taken in Topeka, Kansas, back in 1915. The child’s name was Rebecca Rose, if memory serves. She and her mother both died in the big influenza epidemic of 1918.” He picked up another one. “This is my mother with my grandfather Tilmann. I’m surprised Nell didn’t recognize them except her eyesight’s fading. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure why it matters. None of us have children, so once we’re gone, it won’t make any difference who these people are.”