As Luck Would Have It (17 page)

We had a great weekend and the weather was glorious, the fall colors popping in the trees that lined the parks downtown.  Joseph's
new
boyfriend was
visiting
his family in Georgia, so we had the days to ourselves, uninterrupted hours together for the firs
t
time in several months.  I had missed seeing Joseph and half wished that his
significant other
would stay down south, but I quickly cautioned myself silently to be careful what I wished for
, the thought of Joseph being left alone again was an unpleasant one.

We had dinner at a Greek restaurant in Lakeview and drank a bottle of excellent Merlot that went perfectly with the moussaka and eggplant I ordered.  Joseph had lamb kabobs with
tzatsiki, which were delicious and reminded me of the lamb
Mrs.
Klein had made for us years ago, with the fragrant cumin and coriander spices she loved to cook with floating through the air in her kitchen.

Saturday night I had a date with Michelle Vick, an attractive 52
-
year
-
old atto
rney that I had now been
seeing
quite regularly
since I met her at a July 4
th
picnic that one of my co-workers invited us to.  She made dinner at her apartment and I drank too much Scotch before I fell asleep.  Michelle had a sharp mind an
d
a hysterical sense of humor to accompany it; she could find the absurdity in nearly everything, yet was not jaded in the least.  This was a unique combination of personality traits that I found fascinating and we always had fun when we got together.  But she made it clear from
one of our earliest dates together
that the marriage she had finally extricated herself from the year before had been enough for her as far as serious relationships went and that I should keep my expectations in line.

Sunday was a beautiful fall day so Joseph and I decided to take my Audi for a drive up the Wisconsin shore to see the fall colors.  The sky was a brilliant blue that enhanced the splendor of the changing foliage
,
and as we headed beyond Milwaukee, the leaves seemed to be reaching their peak just in time for our arrival.  We stopped at a small town named Northpoint where we found a cozy family
-
style restaurant right on the lake and had lunch there
.  The crisp morning air we'd left in Chicago had moderated and with the temperature
reaching
70 degrees, the sailboats were out in abundance, taking advantage of the mild breezes on Lake Michigan perhaps for the last time before having to be stored for the winter.  It was a magnificent autumn afternoon, one that brought an almost nostalgic sense of melancholy with the knowledge that the leaves would be gone soon, the restaurant would have no choice but to close it
s
shutters up tight, and the lake would begin to ice up along the shoreline.  We wanted to make the most of the perfect weather, so we headed further north for another 50 miles to Kohler State Park, where we walked for an hour or more along the seemingly endless beach, the sand dunes on one side
;
the glistening blue water on the other.

It was after 10:00 PM when we finally pulled up in front of Joseph's apartment.  I was going to just drop him off and head home, but I remembered then that I had left the extra copy of my reorganization proposal in his living room, and I thought it m
ight be a good idea to review it again before work the next day, where Tim would almost certainly corral me before I could even enjoy my first cup of coffee.  I heard
t
he sound of the bottle opener working on the Heinekens that Joseph had offered when we were in the elevator.  I was leafing through the presentation, quite impressed with myself once again, while the answering machine in the kitchen was echoing something unintelligible,
and then
suddenly there was the unmistakable sound of shattering glass and the screech of Joseph's voice that sent shivers through me.  In the kitchen, I saw the beer and glass on the terrazzo
tile
, then Joseph's face, which had turned pale with fear or horror, staring straight at me for what seemed like several seconds, and then he covered his face and cried out in pain as he slumped to the floor.

Edna Klein had died that afternoon while we were enjoying the beautiful day.  Joseph had forgotten to bring his cell phone on the trip and his brother Richard had been unable to reach him after he went to bring Mrs. Klein her weekly groceries
, only to discover
that she would not be needing them after all; that her days in the kitchen had come to an end.  Despite her advanced age, her death was a shock to all of us, as she seemingly was in very good health, still managing the same home she had built around her family, refusing to agree to her children's suggestions that she move to a smaller place after Mr. Klein had passed away eight years previously.  I had last seen her just three months earlier, when she invited me to a family dinner she had prepared to celebrate Richard and Cecilia's 40
th
anniversary.  Her age apparently not a factor, she quite capably served up yet another remarkable meal for 15 people, the highlight being the prime rib roast that virtually melted
in your mouth,
the secret being, when I asked her to divulge her recipe given the dinner party I was planning for that very next weekend, was to dry age the beef for three days in the refrigerator, covered with nothing more that cracked pepper corns and chopped rosemary.  That's all you needed, she said, besides a good meat thermometer.

Her health and vitality notwithstanding
;
time was not on her side. 
S
he would have turned 90 that following January and if it seemed to us that she could just go on with her life indefinitely, perhaps
she had other ideas that beautiful Sunday afternoon
when she apparently went into her bedroom for a mid-day nap, quite possibly deciding that maybe this would be as good a time as any no
t to get up again.

I stayed up with Joseph for another two hours listening to him talk about his parents; now he was an orphan just like me, but who could say why or how things happen this way, why his parents went quite well along into old age, while neither of mine made it out of their 30s.  I thought of all the things that had happened, or didn't happen through the years; the decisions made, the chances missed, the feelings neglected, the pain avoided, the luck, yes, don't forget the luck that had blessed Mr. and Mrs. Klein and given them nearly 50 years together,
as if
some of my luck was shared with them, if such a thing could even be possible.

Joseph said I should go home, but I refused, deciding to sleep on the sofa and be near him instead.  I knew it would be an awful night for him and sleep would not be coming easily for me tonight either, with all the thoughts swimming aimlessly in my brain, keeping me awake no matter where I slept, at home in my own bed or
here on the couch instead.
  It was a fitful sleep at best for Joseph; he was up and in the kitchen or bathroom several times during the night and once I was nearly certain I'd heard sobbing coming from his room.
I was grateful for the arrival of Monday morning because I knew the first night was the worst; things could only get better now.  I thought about not going to work, but Joseph nearly pushed me out the door, saying he would be busy with his brother planning for the funeral, which according to Jewish custom, had to be as soon as possible,
o
n Tuesday, Richard had said.

It was nearly 10:00 by the time I made it to the office after taking a shower and changing clothes at home.  I had no messages or emails from Tim, which surprised me.  Was it possible that he saw right through the glitz of my
feeble
proposal?  Where was he
anyway?
  I did not see him anywhere around the office and when I walked by, it looked like his computer screen was turned off.  Maybe he had called in or had a three-day weekend planned.  But when I asked around, no one seemed to know his whereabouts,
not
even his administrative assistant, who said the last time he saw Tim was when he left at 3:00 on Friday afternoon. 
I looked
in his office again; the fours copies of the proposal I had left on the desk were gone.  By 4:30, I was
understandably
tired from the lack of sleep
from the previous night, and still, no one had heard from Tim.  Screw it, I thought, I'm heading home.

After the funeral, I went to Richard and Cecilia's house, where the seven day
Shiva
mourning period would be held.  The house was crowded and noisy with relatives and friends.
I noticed a large memorial candle burning on the dining room table.  I sat on the sofa with Joseph's boyfriend and one of the cousins, but as in the case when they mourned for Mr. Klein, Joseph and Richard sat only in low slung chairs or else on the floor.  Other relatives attended to them and brought food and drinks, freeing the mourners from the mundane tasks of normal life so that their attention would not be diverted from thoughts of their mother.  Joseph looked very tired and was quiet, but did manage to flash a little smile at his boyfriend or me now and then, and at one point when I had gotten up to sit out front on the porch and have a cigarette, he followed me outside and sat on the grass, to be close to the earth he explained, where her soul might possibly be resting now.  He put his arm around me as we walked back inside, steadying himself and staying close as we walked.  He stopped in the hallway before we reached the living room where the others were.  He wanted to tell me something and that he wished now that he had not waited
the four decades f
or me to hear it.  His parents had asked him never to say anything about it, but now that t
hey we
r
e both gone, he thought it was time for me to know.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing; was this really true, or had Joseph's recollection been obscured by the intervening years?  Had his fourteen
-
year
-
old mind misunderstood or had he somehow misread or exaggerated what had actually transpired back
then?
  How could I have had absolutely no knowledge of this before now?  It seems that after my parents died, the Kleins immediately approached several of my relatives and offered to have me come live with them; but as I have related more than once, Aunt Doreen viewed the Kleins as somehow inferior and would not even entertain the idea.  The more they tried to explain their reasoning, the more my aunt resisted, despite the proposal the Kleins came up with to legally adopt me, something my aunt an uncle never agreed to do.  According to Joseph, my other relatives conceded that I would be better off with the Kleins, presumably because they knew my aunt better than anyone else still living.

In the months that followed, my unhappiness with
my
living situation had become crystallized in their minds and the Kleins were determined that it was in everyone's best interest for me to move in with them.  They went so far as to consult with an attorney, who though sympathetic, felt that the case would prove to be a very difficult one, given the content of my parent's will, not to mention the fact that Aunt Doreen was my closest living relative in any sort of realistic position to manage an angry and
depressed teenager.  Mr. Klein was apparently willing to concede defeat at that point, but Edna pressed on, determined to find a way to work through the system and eventually go ahead with the plan to adopt me.  She wanted to file a petition in family court and fight any way that she could, but soon afterwards, even Edna gave up after Doreen made an unannounced visit to the Klein's house, threatening a lawsuit and making such a commotion, that Mrs. Klein figured all this arguing and fighting might do even more har
m
to me than staying where I was.  Joseph explained that she was torn up for years over her decision, not ever knowing if giving up on me was the right or wrong thing to do.

*****

Tim finally returned to work three days later and mainly stayed in his office, with the door closed and with no explanation for his lengthy disappearance.  There was the frequent buzz of people wondering aloud as to what had happened, or more importantly, what was going to happen.  Rumors and speculation, common occurrences on any given day in a dysfunctional organization, were now rampant and out of control in ours.  One widely circulating theory was that Tim was completely overwhelmed and had suffered some sort of nervous breakdown, necessitating a few days rest at home and quiet seclusion at work.  Another idea that surfaced was that Tim had been summoned to our home office in New York for secret meetings, resulting in some sinister plan that he was now finalizing and about to unleash on the rest of us, and had to keep
his office door closed so that no one could overhear the nature of the plot.  I was nearly certain that the mystery had something to do with my proposal; the timing of it all just too coincidental, but I said nothing and just shrugged when people came by to ask what I thought was going on.

Little by little, Tim began interacting again, sending out memos
and
arranging meetings, but he was more subdued and distant than he had been prior to his absence.  Soon, it was business as usual with no changes made, or even suggested, and gradually, the rumors subsided and people went about their business as if nothing had happened, which was exactly what had happened.  The concept of change was so objectionable in our
organization
that it could not come about, or even be considered except under the direst of circumstances.
 
Tim was clearly uncomfortable and was easily flustered when we met.  He never mentioned my proposal, but I figured out pretty much what must have gone down.  He would have zealously presented it to his superiors, no doubt taking full credit for its content, only to have it summarily rejected, most likely because the prospect of any
changes
to the work flow
or organizational structure created an enormous sense of discomfort to those who were presented with it,
or quite possibly
because those same people actually read the proposal and saw right through its lack of substance and significance.