Page 70 - Demo

An Adoption (continued from preceding page)
“No speeches. But you know how Claire likes to enter- “I’ve had her cooking. I know what you mean.”
tain. Mostly it was their friends and meant to be a little mixer. Two other couples who had adopted were there with their adoptees—two old women, one in sequins, both in good form. The idea was to introduce Mr. Lawson to them, but he seemed glum. There was Ella Fitzgerald music playing softly on their stereo. I went over to him and asked if he likes Ella Fitzgerald. All he did was nod.”
My indigestion had never served me so well. Mr. Law- son’s expression registered camaraderie, and he proceeded to tell me things about himself as if tired of holding back. He was alone in the world, formerly a lawyer like me. His wife was dead, and he had a daughter he had not seen or spoken to in 20 years.
heart attacks, been treated for kidney cancer, and had “That’s the problem. You stick an old man with the spinal stenosis that reduced him from 5 feet 11 to
Yaegers and all they want to do is have cocktail his current height of 5 feet 8. Despite this, he did not parties.” look to be 80 years old, the minimum requirement
“Claire went to a lot of trouble. You didn’t even show up.”
for adoption. His squarish jaw and full head of white hair helped. Although far from movie-star hand- some, he gave off hints of Anthony Hopkins, his blue eyes gaining warmth. He had been in a nursing home where he hardly talked to anyone before his money ran out. They put his name into the adoption pro- gram registry, and the Yaegers picked him. He told me this with his first trace of laughter, saying, “You don’t pick them.”
The next morning, I was on my way out to work, how- ever. There was an old man sitting on the couch in the lobby. From his cast-off appearance in a thread- bare sweater, I took it to be him. “Mr. Lawson?” I said. “Have you been left alone?”
“He says he’s coming back.”
That was when Douglas returned holding a small paper bag. “Are you two getting acquainted?” he said.
I excused myself and went to Eduardo at the front door. He told me Douglas was running a quick errand and didn’t want the old man slowing him down. I re- turned angrily and sat resolved to keep him company until Yeager returned. “Did he say how long he’ll be?” I asked. He murmured something I could not hear.
“I don’t belong here.” That’s what I imagined. I asked him again and this time he made me flinch. He said, “This is all a crock of shit.”
“While you were gone,” I said.
I wanted to tell him I agreed but said, “I’m sure Doug- las won’t be long.”
“We missed you at the party last night,” Douglas said, then to Mr. Lawson, “Let’s get you back upstairs.” He held up his paper bag. “Let’s hope this helps. Had a little trouble in River City,” he said to me. He pulled out a bottle of pink Pepto Bismol and sighed, “More than we signed up for. A terrible mess.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
We opened our door to Jocelyn with her overstuffed duffel by her side. This was a minute after Eduardo had called from downstairs to announce her and we were still in shock. Jocelyn fell forward and hugged Ruth. I went into the hall for her heavy duffel that seemed to contain everything she owned. In the next few minutes, we learned she was leaving LA for good. In a nutshell, she was giving up on being a comedian, done looking at life for laughs. There was more than a little depressive tone to her voice, sighing, “The failure has returned.”
“I live in the building. I know the Yaegers. I couldn’t come to the party last night. But my wife was there. The day you arrived she gave you tea.”
“Nice woman.”
“You remember her?”
“My memory’s as good as it’s ever been.” I thought he was about to add to this, but he paused to burp. He gripped his stomach, then put a liver-spotted hand to his throat.
It was late in the afternoon, and Ruth and I had the- ater tickets that night. We don’t go that often. We were supposed to see a new revival of Waiting for Godot and were happy to waste them. But Jocelyn wouldn’t hear of it, her stubbornness on immedi-
“Are you okay?” I said.
“No, I’m suffering. The woman’s gourmet cooking is ate display. Then as we were about to leave, Claire going to kill me.”
63
A very frightening thought. He was the victim of two
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