Danny looked reprovingly at Adam. “You think Hank was just data? Come on, Adam, don’t even joke about that. Heaven isn’t just some big hard drive.”
Adam shrugged. “I have CDs and MP3s of concerts I’ve been to that sound just like the real thing,” he said. “Somehow, the whole experience is there, stored on my computer. Maybe data really is all we are, or all we are that matters, anyway. Zeroes and ones.”
“You can reduce everything to zeros and ones in principle,” Steven said. “Even the way each neuron functions and the patterns of their connections. With a hundred billion neurons in your brain, each connected in thousands of ways, that’s a lot of zeroes and ones, but it’s still just zeroes and ones.”
Adam took pity on Danny. He didn’t want to gang up on him. Not today. He gestured toward the gravestones in their neat rows. “This is a beautiful place, Danny,” he said. “You should be really proud.”
Danny was quick as usual to accept a peace offering. He looked around with obvious satisfaction. “I do love it here,” he said. “Rose thought it made sense financially, but it doesn’t really. I’m managing it better than it was, but it’s never going to be a real moneymaker. I like that it gives me a chance to work outside part of the time. And it’s not from my parents. It’s something I did on my own.”
Neither Adam nor Steven seemed about to reply, so Danny continued. “What are you doing for the rest of the week, Adam?” Danny asked. “Are you sitting shiva? It’s not the full seven days, you know. Rosh Hashana starts on the fourth, on Wednesday night.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have classes on Tuesday and Wednesday, and they aren’t prepared yet. And I have a lot to do on the artifact we found.”
“You’ll have to go through the apartment at some point, too,” Danny said. “I don’t know when the lease expires. You’ll need to talk to the super about arranging things. If you can wait until next week, I can help you. It might be hard being back in the apartment and going through his things. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Adam bit his lip. “It hasn’t been easy for me being in that apartment for a long time. Not since Grandma died. This probably won’t be much worse.”
The day of his grandmother’s burial flashed into Adam’s mind. He missed her terribly in that moment. Adam remembered standing in front of the stereo speakers in the living room in their apartment after the funeral. The absence of music felt so wrong to him. He remembered that vividly. She had always had music going before she got sick: Count Basie, Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman. And Ellington. Especially Ellington. Adam remembered how gently he had placed the needle in the groove of her favorite record, “Sophisticated Lady,” and how he watched as it moved up and down in the old, warped vinyl. He remembered how he would have given anything to have her there with him. He could still recall the flash of anger he felt then when he couldn’t hear the song over the chatter of all the people there who were treating the day like a party or a reunion.
Danny seemed oblivious to Adam’s reverie. “She seemed to know everything, didn’t she?” Danny asked. He turned to Steven. “She used to talk about history, and politics, and art while she did her crossword puzzles. She had something to say about almost every clue.”
Adam smiled through his tears. “She was a real talker.”
Danny nodded. “Hank loved her so much,” he said. “God, he was a wreck when she died. I was really worried about him.”
“I don’t know if it was conscious or not,” Adam said, “but after a couple of weeks, my grandfather always had the radio on, or a tape going after she died. There was a lot of silence to fill. We never spoke about it, but it seemed like he would listen to just about anything with a woman’s voice. He loved dance music and whatever was popular at the time. I remember laughing when I caught him listening to a Destiny’s Child tape he bought. He went through a Madonna phase for a while. He was a little defensive about it. ‘I don’t know why, but it moves me,’ he would say. Or ‘she has a lovely voice. A real artist.’’ It was just a coincidence, I guess, that everyone he listened to was sexy as hell.”
“He never dated after your grandmother died?” Steven asked.
“No.” Adam said. “I don’t think he ever got over her loss. As far as I know, he never dated anyone even before my grandmother.”
“You know, that’s not exactly true,” Danny said. “He told me some stories . . . he had his share of wild times before he met your grandmother. He got into some trouble before Korea. He said the army helped straighten him out, you know.” Danny smiled. “He told me about one time, right after he got out . . .” He let his voice trail away. “Sorry, Adam. Another time.”
Adam couldn’t hide his surprise. “He never told me anything about that,” he said. “What did he tell you?”
Danny gestured at the grave. “It’s not for today. I’ll tell you some other time. It’s not a big deal, just kid stuff, but it was a funny story. I used to ask Hank for stories all the time when I came over. You know how I idolized him. I asked him about everything he did. I wanted him to teach me plumbing, but he pointed out that I’d probably be better off learning the family business. I could always hire a plumber, he said. When I found out he was a professional boxer for a while, I wanted to take lessons from him, but my parents wanted me to go to a dojo like every other boy in my class. He understood. ‘It’s a different world now,’ he told me. ‘But some things never change. Some time you might find yourself in a situation where violence is your only option, and you’ll need to know how to handle yourself.’”
“He was a boxer?” Steven asked. “I didn’t know that.”
Danny nodded, the pride radiating from his eyes. “‘Digger Drascher’ they called him. He got that nickname in Korea.”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t think it was from Korea, Danny,” Adam said. “It was probably just a play on the name. Drash means dig; like when you interpret a Torah story, that’s a drash. You’re digging beneath the surface.”
Danny fixed Adam with an incredulous look. “Do you think the guys in his unit spoke Hebrew? I doubt if Hank even knew that. He told me they started calling him ‘Digger’ when they saw how fast he could dig a foxhole. They said, ‘Look at Digger go!’ and then they put him on latrine duty.” Danny smiled. “Maybe that’s how he got interested in plumbing.”
Adam decided to let it drop. If he had a nickel for every time he’d managed to teach Danny something, he wouldn’t be any richer than he was now. “He taught me how to box,” Adam said. “He started when some of the kids were giving me a hard time in middle school. For a couple of years, we went to the gym every Saturday and once a week after school. He told me the same thing he told you: ‘A man has to know how to handle himself.’ He must have told me that a hundred times. He said just learning to take a punch would be good for me, because if I weren’t afraid of getting hit, my confidence would show and I’d be able to avoid most fights. He was right about that. I remember he once told me ‘When you box a man, after a few rounds you know how he acts when he’s tired and what he does when he’s scared. If you surprise him, you can see what he defends first, what he wants to protect.’ He said, ‘There are guys I’ve boxed and never said a word to, and in some ways, I know them better than I know anyone else. Better than I know your grandmother after all these years.’”
“Why did you stop?” Danny asked. “He must have been a terrific teacher.”
Adam
