Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (24 page)

“Do not ever drive like this,” Mindy said to Aaron, who gripped the armrest. “I am merely demonstrating what you are not permitted to do.”

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“Cool.”

“And take the tags off your clothes so people don’t think you just robbed Sports Authority. When we get home I’ll give you a card so you can send a thank-you to Beth and Richard. When is the last time you went to the doctor or a dentist. Remind me to make you appointments when we get home. Any interest in a haircut?”

“What is up with you, woman?” He ripped a tag off his cap.

“You’ve gone psycho.”

“Sorry. Artie’s phone call got me crazy. I think it’s good news, but he’s hard to read.”

“Well if it’s bad news, why are ya drivin’ so fast?”

“Good point.” She laughed, though it didn’t slow her down. In fact, by the time they got to the store, they were both so pumped they raced inside only to find Artie fitting a customer.

“Hey. How are you?” He waved. Was this the same person who had just insisted they rush over?

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Mindy whispered to Aaron,

“but it better be good because I didn’t get to shower yet and we have a lot to do today.” She tried signaling Artie to ask what the deal was.

“Be right with you,” he said as if she were a customer.

“Hey, Mrs. Sherman.” James, the manager breezed past.

“Sorry, can’t chat. Busy today.”

“Apparently,” she replied. “See the problem?” she said to Aaron. “Nobody here under the age of sixty. In fact, there’s usually nobody here period.”

Aaron nodded like a young management consultant who was there to observe. Finally, Artie finished, then ushered them into his office, where he closed his door and exhaled.

Mindy should have warned Aaron that Artie’s office would be a tight squeeze not only because of the limited square footage but because he was both a slob and a saver. Boxes of contact lens Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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solution ran into piles of sales brochures which spilled over onto eyeglass displays.

It killed her when he misplaced something, then claimed he never had it to begin with, or that he left it in a certain spot and somebody moved it, or it wasn’t lost, just temporarily concealed, only to be discovered weeks later under back issues of
Contempo-rary Optometry.

“Look on my desk,” he told Mindy.

“Oh, yay! I love a good scavenger hunt.”

“Stop . . . it’s right on top . . . that’s it. The fax. Your hand is on it.”

Mindy immediately recognized Stan’s scribbling, proof that illegible handwriting was the first test one had to pass in order to enter medical school. But having worked for him all these years she could make out the message and read it aloud: Arthur, Gone to the country house with Mom.

She thinks we might have taken out a life insurance policy on Davida. . . . All our old files are in the attic there. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Dad

“Oh my God!” Mindy’s hand shook. “What does this mean?”

“Well for starters it means that they’re talking again, which my dad may be sorry about ’cause it’s a long ride to the Berkshires when my mom is in one of her crazy moods.”

“True . . . but what about the fax? This is incredible news, right? Now we just have to hope that they find the policy and that it didn’t lapse because they forgot to pay the premiums.”

“Unless it was one of those policies that got paid automatically from an investment account and eventually the dividends paid the premium . . . then it could still be in force.”

“Oh my God,” Mindy squealed, “it’s like winning the lottery!”

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“Yo! People!” Aaron was air strumming a guitar. “What are you guys talkin’ about?”

“Well, my friend,” Artie slapped Aaron’s shoulder, “we just found out there’s a good chance we’ll be coming into some money soon. Your grandparents are on the way up to their country house to see if they can find a life insurance policy they think they might have taken out for me on your mom. And if they did, and it’s still active, wow! That would so save our asses!”

Aaron blinked. “You’d get money ’cause my mom died?”

“Life insurance is a great concept, right?” Artie beamed. “It leaves survivors tax-free cash so they’re not hurt financially when they lose a family member. I’m telling you, Mindy, if this actually happens, I’m becoming a true believer in that thing you heard on Oprah.”

“You mean visualization?”

“Yeah, visualization. Remember yesterday when you said you were imagining getting a check for fifty grand? It could be on its way!”

“Oh my God!” Mindy and Artie hugged. “We’re saved!” She hugged Aaron.

“I was trying to think of a fun way to break the news to you.”

Artie grabbed jelly beans from the jar on his desk. “I even thought about running out to pick up those Hundred Thousand Dollar candy bars, but then we got busy here, and how often does that happen?”

“A hundred thousand dollars?” Mindy gulped. “You think it could be that much?”

“Who knows? My mom doesn’t do anything small. The policy could even be for a half a million or a million.”

“A million?” Mindy felt faint.

“Then again,” Artie grabbed more jelly beans, “they could get all the way up there and not find the policy, or like you said, find Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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it and then realize it lapsed. It’s hard for my mother to remember what she did last week let alone seventeen years ago.”

“It would be my money though, right?” Aaron’s breathing got heavy. “’Cause she was my mom?”

“Oh.
Um.
Well, no. Not exactly.” Artie straightened his back.

“We’d have to wait and see how the policy was written if they find it at all. But most likely, my parents made me the beneficiary.”

“What’s that?”

“A beneficiary is the person who’s listed on the policy to receive the benefits when a death claim is made. Most times it’s in the spouse’s name because they’re the ones with all the financial responsibilities.”

“But you weren’t married no more and I’m still her son.”

Artie and Mindy exchanged glances. The look on Aaron’s face had gone from sunny to ice cold with a wind-chill factor of ten below zero.

“You know what?” Artie coughed. “We’re really getting ahead of ourselves here. We don’t know anything yet. There may not even be a policy. I guess it was dumb to say anything until we knew for sure. . . .”

“Your father is right,” Mindy continued, “but it reminds me of when the lottery first started in New York, and we bought a bunch of tickets and talked all night about what we’d do if we won, then had this huge fight because we couldn’t agree, remember?”

“Yeah. You wanted to buy your parents a place in Florida and I wanted to get a boat.”

“Needless to say we learned our lesson about counting our chickens,” Mindy laughed, “so let’s stay cool. Even if in the best-case scenario there is a policy and we get the money, it doesn’t mean we have to go out and spend it. We’d want to come up with a plan.”

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“Exactly,” Artie said. “Remember Nadine and Peter told us about Lee Rosenberg, that financial planner in Jericho? They swear by him.”

“Oh, yeah. Great idea,” Mindy said, “We’d meet with him, tell him our goals, and listen to his advice. He could save us a lot of money on our taxes.”

“Maybe we’d even have enough to get you a car. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“I hate you!” Aaron clenched his fist. “I hate you both!”

“Why?” Artie stopped chewing. “What did we do?”

“You’re acting all happy ’cause my mom died. You people are sick!”

“No. You’re misunderstanding. We’re not happy that she died, we’re happy that maybe now we’d have a way to take care of you.”

“But it’s MY money!” Aaron grabbed Artie’s car keys on his desk and ran out the back door. “It’s MY money!”

They chased him, but Aaron was younger, thinner, and had the benefit of brand-new Nikes on his feet. What he didn’t have was the knowledge of where his father’s car was parked so that he had to dart through a crowded parking lot, narrowly missing an oncoming UPS truck.

“Aaron! Hold up!” Artie shouted. “I can’t run as fast as you. Do you want me to have a heart attack trying?”

Welcome to Jewish guilt. Aaron stopped, allowing Artie and Mindy to catch up. But for Mindy it wasn’t the shock of having sprinted in moccasins that startled her. It was the realization she was seeing double. Both father and son looked bewildered by the other’s disrespect.

“We’re sorry,” she panted. “That was really inconsiderate of us. We weren’t thinking.” She glared at Artie as if to say, nice job, dumb ass.

“Look,” Artie said, reading her loud and clear. “Of course you’re confused. We really screwed that up.”

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“I’m not confused, man!” Aaron yelled. “I know when someone’s gettin’ fucked, okay? My mom died and that money should be for me and Rainbow and the baby, and so I don’t have to live with your crap decisions. You don’t know what I need, so don’t pretend you do. I run my own life!”

“Aaron, listen.” Artie panicked. “I said the same things to my father, but you have to understand. If there is a policy, it’s a legal document.”

“So what? You think I’m too stupid to figure out what it says?”

“I’m not even sure I could figure out what it says. . . . No, I’m saying that if my name is listed as the beneficiary then that’s that, but it doesn’t mean that I win and you lose.”

“ ‘I am not what you see, I don’t answer to you, please understand
what I mean, while it gives me a thrill, it’s all I can do, you realize I do
it all for you . . .’ ”

“Stop singing, damn it!” Artie snapped. “I hate when you tune me out like that.”

“It’s called “Cheat Me” by Dogwood,” Aaron spit out.

“I’m sure it’s one of the finest songs ever written, but give me a break. I’m trying to make you understand.”

“Then you’re doin’ a great job, ’cause I totally get what your deal is.”

Artie exchanged glances with Mindy. The look said stop me from strangling the kid.

“Hey!” She whistled to get his attention. “You’re in shock right now . . . so are we. But we’re trying to tell you that if this thing happens, it’s good for the whole family.”

“You’re sayin’ that now, okay?” Aaron stammered. “But I know how this goes down. . . . It’s like when my mom promised me a new TV. As soon as the welfare checks came, her and my dad would go to Wal-Mart and buy all this shit and tell me they’d get me my stuff the next time, but there never was a next time.”

“Wait, hold on.” Artie tried putting his arm around his boy.

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“No fair comparing us . . . Mindy and I said from the start that we would do whatever it took to make sure you had all the same opportunities as our other kids. We’d get you into counseling, hire tutors, start looking at colleges—”

“Aaron, look at me,” Mindy said. “Do you honestly believe that if we handed you a big check and said hey kid, good-bye and good luck, you’d be set for life?”

“Hell, yes! You give me my money and that’s all the help I need.”

“You say that now,” Mindy shouted, “but you’re seventeen and clueless, which is why God invented parents. And believe me, we get that you’ve been cheated out of a lot of things and that you’re just trying to protect yourself, but that’s not what’s happening here. Your father wanted you to be the first to know about this possible windfall because he loves you and only wants the best for you. If he was really looking to cheat you, you would never have known any of this.”

Aaron studied his new sneakers and kicked pebbles.

“You know what I was thinking?” Artie kicked pebbles, too.

“I knew your mom pretty well and I’m sure she felt terrible that she could never give you the kind of life you deserved. But now look. Whether we get the money or not, for the first time you’re going to have a chance for a real family life, a future with great opportunities. That was always her wish for you, Aaron. It was always our wish for you.”

“I guess.” Aaron’s lip curved, more retreat than smile.

Artie grabbed his boy and gave him a hug. Maybe John Boy had returned to Walton Mountain after all.

If the police could give tickets for driving while distracted, Mindy would have been pulled over, for as she and Aaron headed to Target, she couldn’t concentrate on the road. Not when she was thinking about receiving a lump sum of insurance money at Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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the same time she was trying to read her text messages. “Don’t ever drive while doing other things,” Mindy said. “It’s very dangerous.”

“Hell, that’s nothing,” Aaron laughed. “You should try rollin’ a joint while changin’ a CD and gettin’ a blow job!”

“Aaron!” she clutched the wheel. “A little respect, please.”

But truth was, she was happier talking to him than reading Stacie’s text messages complaining about her moron social stud-ies teacher who wouldn’t let her out of class so she missed being in the cast picture that was going to run in the paper.

Or listening to Nadine’s freak-outs about how it would be another few weeks before Jonathan heard from Indiana, and he was still undecided about his safe school, but meanwhile for good luck, he was refusing to wear anything other than IU’s school colors, red and white.

Finally, a call with good news. The unit coordinator at the nursing home informed Mindy that her grandmother’s blood pressure had dropped enough for her to be released from the hospital, and now she was back at the home, where she had resumed her normal activities, including mistreating the orderlies and accusing other residents of stealing her magazines.

But it was the call she got while shopping that made her pull over, though it was only a cart, not a car.

“It’s Beth? Where are you?”

“Target with Aaron . . . are you okay? You sound terrible.”

“I am terrible . . . sick as a dog. Can you pick up something for me like Pepto?”

“Sure. Of course. What are your symptoms? Do you have a fever? Diarrhea?”