Love Love (44 page)

“I'll join you in five.” She slid the eggs, sunny-side up, onto Roger's plate. She found her cell phone in the living room and clicked through her list of outgoing numbers until she found it, Dr. Elias at the University Medical Center of Princeton.

A
s Judy read the arrival schedule on the giant flat screen at Logan Airport, she thought that once upon a time, she could've met Kevin
as he exited the gate. It wasn't that long ago, and yet it seemed like a different world, a bygone era that should be seen through black-and-white footage. She remembered receiving him during his tour days, watching as her brother emerged from the crowd, his enormous tennis bag slung over a slouched shoulder. She'd hug him and pat him on the back, commiserate with him for being good enough to win one or two matches but no more than that. He had to win four or five in a row for the title of his satellite matches, and to her knowledge, he'd done that only once, winning the ATP Challenger event in Tallahassee, receiving a check for six thousand dollars and a gaudy trophy. That was the year he'd almost cracked the US Open, the zenith of his short career.

On the phone yesterday, he'd told her he was coming in at quarter past eleven, and there was one flight that matched. He wasn't expecting her to be here, so it would be a surprise, but she didn't think Kevin would mind. And if he did, tough tarts. He'd have support whether he wanted it or not.

By now, Roger would be halfway back to New Jersey, Momo making his infantile cries as he paced back and forth in the back seat. She missed that dark-faced cat, and she missed Roger even more. She loved him, and that was okay, better than okay, even. The lightness she'd felt in the morning was still with her, and instead of trying to figure out when the good feeling would fade, she decided to just enjoy it.

Judy had half an hour to kill, so she got a cup of coffee and took one of the stools facing the café window and watched the unending stream of people hurrying to their destinations. There were so many of them, young ones and old ones, slim ones and fat ones, and inside every person was their own individual story. Before today, she would've found this notion exhausting, but now, it fortified her. Considering the root pointlessness of human existence, wasn't it an act of courage that people did rise every morning, some even with optimism? It was a miracle that the world simply didn't explode from the collective emotional baggage of its populace.

Sipping her coffee, she thought of her father. Since finding out about Kevin's origins, Judy had mulled over the reasons why he had been so much more critical of her than her brother, a fact she never understood and therefore feared. Perhaps it was pop psychology, but wasn't it possible that it had been a form of compensation, that
because Kevin was adopted, her father wanted to make sure never to favor her, and in so doing, ended up taking it to the other extreme? Or maybe it was just the irony that her father found difficult to handle, that the boy they'd adopted was more like him than the girl born from his own seed?

All bullshit, every bit of it. In the end, none of her musings mattered, because they were all just stories anyway. Life was one big story, comprised of littler stories that people told themselves to get through the day, and each day lived consciously was a victory in itself.

Judy laughed, and the woman who was sitting next to her, a tiny, shrunken granny nibbling on her coffee cake like a squirrel, said, “I like your laughter, young lady.”

“Thank you,” Judy said. “I was just thinking that every day is a victory.”

“As someone who's been around for eighty-eight years,” she said, “I can assure you that you're absolutely correct.”

A heavier rush of people pushed through the hall, and Judy looked at her watch.

“Have a great day,” she told the old lady as she rose. “I'm here to meet my brother.”

“Me too!” she said. “He turns ninety tomorrow.”

Ninety. It seemed like an impossible age, but Kevin was now forty and that still didn't seem right. In her mind, he'd always be frozen in his early twenties, the professional tennis player in his most vibrant mode, his muscular thighs like trunks of oak, the racquet singing in his hand as it swooshed through the air. The old lady and her ancient brother were two years apart, just like she and Kevin were. Judy leaned against the wall and scanned the waves of people for his face. She tried to see herself and her brother at their respective ancient ages. That would be a sight, wouldn't it? If they were lucky, they'd both be healthy enough to enjoy whatever life offered them. Maybe Kevin would still be playing the game he loved, exchanging forehands in the back court and volleys at the net, and she could be sitting with her brush poised in front of an empty canvas, ready to fill it with whatever she imagined.

They saw each other at the same time. Even from here, a good twenty people between them, Judy could feel the melancholy seeping out from him.

“Thank you,” he said. He took her deep into his embrace, and she squeezed back equally hard, wishing to transfer any positivity in her through this physical transaction. She had more bad news for him, but she also had good news. Judy hoped they'd balance each other out.

28

W
as this what it was like to experience a panic attack? Kevin didn't know because he'd never suffered through one, but belted into the passenger seat of Judy's car, his mind wouldn't sit still, jumping from thing to thing. The woman he loved was dying. His dog was dead. And his sister was scheduled to go into surgery next week to donate a kidney to their father.

What?

He didn't know what to do with his legs. They were twitching all on their own, in revolt, wanting to run away from the rest of his body, and really, he couldn't blame them. If he could get the fuck away from himself, he'd do it, too, gladly.

The night before he had left for San Francisco, two months ago, he had Snaps sit, then snapped his fingers above his head so she'd pay attention to his face.

“I'll be gone, but I'll be back, girl. Fourteen days at most.”

From puppyhood, Alice had insisted that they do this before they left Snaps in someone else's care. Kevin had felt it a silly thing to do, since it was obvious Snaps did not comprehend his words, but Alice disagreed. She assured him his intentions, his feelings, were absolutely conveyed, and even though he remained skeptical, he'd kept up the tradition.

If Alice had been right, then did he lie to Snaps? Because he'd been gone for way longer than a fortnight, and the thought that his dog had been holding on for his promised return, waiting day after day for him to step through the door—it was too much to bear. When she needed him most, he'd failed her.

“Snaps,” Judy said. He hadn't meant to tune her out, but her words had turned into noise until now. “I know it sounds crazy, but your dog saved my life.”

It wasn't crazy, just insensitive. Judy was turning his beloved canine into some kind of martyr, and that wasn't fair. Snaps was an old dog, a good dog, and there were no ulterior motives to her death, as there were no hidden agendas to her life.

“From what it sounds like, Snaps is gonna save Dad's life, not yours.”

Judy nodded, slowly then quickly. “Both lives,” she said. “Mine and his. I know you're angry and sad, Kevin, and you'll just have to feel it until you don't, but I do hope you'll find solace in what I've told you. There is meaning in every death. I'm certain of it.”

They were on the Longfellow Bridge, crossing the Charles River, a barge floating on the water, the Boston skyline to the left. The people on the bridge were bundled up and hunched against the wind. Kevin tried to appreciate what Judy was doing for him, but she wasn't making it easy with her platitudes and psychobabble.

“So when Alice dies, what's the meaning in that, sis? Please enlighten me.”

“I don't know,” she said. “But you will know, and that's what matters.”

“Jesus Christ, will you stop?” he said. “It's very kind of you to be here for me, but please, just let it go, let
me
go. You can't make this better. Nothing can make this better.”

He regretted his outburst as soon as he'd said it, because he knew it would lead to Judy getting ornery, defensive, make her twice as annoying as she attempted to sway him to her point of view—except none of that happened. To his surprise, she reached out to pat his hand.

“You got it,” she said. “Let's just get you to Alice.”

They continued on Cambridge Street, passed by houses and shops and parts of Harvard, an imposing redbrick church to the right that took up a block.

“I feel like I'm in some alternate world,” Kevin said. “You've hated Dad for so long, and now you don't? It just seems, I don't know, it doesn't seem real.”

“I still don't like him, Kevin. I'll probably never like him. But death is final, it's tragic, and he doesn't deserve it, not now, not when I can prevent it.”

He watched her as she kept her eyes on the road, negotiating the busy Cambridge traffic. They were on Garden Street, and according to the readout on the GPS, Alice was less than two miles away. Judy was a changed woman, of that there was no question. He'd never
heard his sister speak with such conviction, and he knew he should feel proud, but instead, he resented her. He didn't know this woman, and right now, what he needed was stability when so much of his life was crumbling down.

“I don't know what to make of you,” he said.

“I don't know what to make of myself, so we're even. I'm still your sister, Kevin. Always will be.”

Words meant for comfort, but to Kevin, they felt like a threat. He was on edge, and waiting in this awful traffic was just making it worse. It was early Wednesday afternoon, nowhere near rush hour, but the street was like an extended parking lot, discordant honks both near and far polluting the air. Every building here seemed to be built of the same red bricks, even the short wall that wrapped around the next block, the Radcliffe Quadrangle. They were driving by some of the smartest people on the planet, and Kevin wished to absorb their collective intelligence and make it his own. Maybe then he could figure out what he was supposed to do. Was there a single thing worth living for at this point? He had no job and no desire for one. His blood father made a movie of himself in the nude and had fabricated a sister, whom Kevin had made out with. He had stayed with a famous painter who redefined the concept of selfishness. His dog of twelve years that he raised from puppyhood had passed on without his presence or his knowledge, and now the woman he loved would be gone for good. If this had been someone else's life, he would've felt sorry for this sap, washed up at forty with misery in the rearview mirror and nothing worth looking at through the windshield of his existence.

“My life sucks,” he said. “I suck.”

“No argument there. It sucks and you suck . . .”

“Thanks, sis.”

“You didn't let me finish. For the time being, is what I meant. We Americans have this notion that we should always be happy. It's even in the Declaration of Independence, right? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It sounds so optimistic. I've always considered happiness like a brief visit from old friends—a great time that's over before you know it and leaves you feeling empty after they depart.”

The female voice on the GPS told them to turn right, so they did.

Judy parked in front of a brownstone that stood five stories high. Alice was on the fourth floor, a number Kevin had never liked because in Korean culture, it was bad luck.

“You're sure you want to do this alone?” Judy asked.

“I don't want to do this at all.”

“You don't have to.”

“Of course I do.”

“No,” Judy said. “You actually don't. She's not your wife. We both know she cut you out so you wouldn't have to see her like this. Her dad called you, she didn't, so for all you know, this isn't even something she desires. In fact, knowing Alice as well as you do, you know this to be true. You have a choice, Kevin. We always have a choice.”

“But this is ridiculous. I'm right here. I flew from the other side of the fucking country to see her.”

“She doesn't love you,” Judy said, and the words sliced him in half. “She did at one point, but not anymore. You know this, too.”

Kevin placed a hand on the door handle. “I can't believe you're the one who's telling me this. You of all people.”

“What does that mean?”

“Have you already forgotten what you were like before you met Roger? You were more married to Brian after your divorce than before. You were broken, sis, and I'm glad your new man has put you together again, but if you haven't noticed, I don't have a Roger, okay? All I have is Alice.”

“But you don't,” Judy said.

Kevin closed his eyes, wishing everything around him would just go away and leave him alone. “I've tried, Judy. I've tried to put her out of my mind, but she's still here, inside me. What if I can't? What if I want her for the rest of my life?”

“Now,” she said. “You start right now by walking away from here.”