into the gym and immediately start sizing people up. Their reach, how they stood . . .”
“That’s just what guys do,” Danny said. “You should have stuck with it.”
Adam shrugged. Maybe he and his grandfather would have been closer if he had. Maybe then Danny wouldn’t think it was his place to tell Adam what he should and shouldn’t say about his own grandfather . . . Adam cut himself off. He was working himself up over nothing, he told himself. All Danny had done was take better care of Adam’s grandfather than Adam had. Arguing with him wouldn’t change that. But when Steven asked if his grandfather had been a good fighter, Adam spoke over Danny’s quick assent.
“No,” Adam said. “He only had five fights. He was two and three. Thank God he stopped before he got hurt.”
Danny said nothing. The cemetery felt very still. Even the birdsong had quieted. A gentle breeze brushed Adam’s cheek and he watched his shadow play over the grass as he moved his hand back and forth.
Steven asked, “Are you going to work, tomorrow, Adam?”
Adam nodded. “I have to. I’ll go crazy if I just stew. Anyway, no one’s going to teach my classes if I don’t.”
“You can stay with us tonight,” Steven said. “Todd would love to see you. He’ll be done with his last patient in time for dinner.”
“Thanks for the offer,” Adam said. “But I need to prepare for class, and I’ve barely even been home.” He stood up stiffly. He realized he was going to be very sore the next day. “Look, guys, Thank you. I really appreciate your giving up the whole day like this, digging with me in the heat . . .”
“Adam, stop, please,” Steven said. “There was never any question.”
“Seriously,” Danny said. “Stop. Stop talking.”
Chapter 3
Adam woke up slowly and for a moment, he half-thought he was still in Tel Arad. He put on his glasses and then let his head fall back onto his pillow. No. He was back in his one-bedroom apartment, surrounded by his books, his framed maps of the ancient world, his CDs. His grandfather was gone. He checked his phone. It was six in the morning, Labor Day. He considered going to his grandfather’s apartment to get started on packing the place up, but he told himself he didn’t have time. His classes weren’t ready, and he had to do his laundry and go grocery shopping.
Adam got up sore and stiff. His limbs felt heavy, heavier than he remembered they’d ever felt, as if his grandfather had been buoying him up for his whole life and now he had been left to sink. He took a couple of ibuprofen, showered, and put on some clothes, including the Mets cap that, along with his unshaven beard, would mark that he was still in the earliest phase of mourning.
The cupboard was nearly empty, Adam saw, which saved him the trouble of making a shopping list. He started his laundry in the small washer/dryer he had in his apartment. Then he opened a can of tuna and ate it over the sink for breakfast before he settled in to try to get some work done. He sat with his lesson plans for a couple of hours, but made little progress. It was a relief when the ringing of his phone, his landline, interrupted him.
It was the rabbi at his grandfather’s temple, Rabbi Mira. Adam didn’t know if Mira was her first or last name. He had seen her only once, at High Holiday services with his grandfather.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the rabbi said. “Danny Blumberg gave me your number and I wanted to call. So many of us in the community will miss Herschel. He was really special.”
Adam stiffened. Herschel, she called him. Everyone called him Hank. Adam pictured her sitting in her office, reading off a card, checking another mourner off her list for the day. “Did you know him well?” Adam asked. He just managed to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
“Of course,” she said. “Herschel was very active in the Temple Brotherhood and he was on the social action committee this year. He talked about you all the time.” She paused, but Adam didn’t respond. He was trying and failing to picture his grandfather selling raffle tickets and helping out at barbecues. “I wanted to let you know that we have a prayer group that visits houses of mourning,” the rabbi said. “Most of our congregants are here in Queens, of course, but we’d be happy to come up to Westchester. You’re in Larchmont, right?”
It was a kind offer, Adam realized. He pictured a dozen or so senior citizens coming up in a bus from Little Neck to pray in his apartment, a field trip for the underemployed. He would offer them something to eat and they would accept some token, probably a cookie each, maybe some warm water with lemon. Then they’d get down to business, reading from their prayer books in unison, not comprehending the Hebrew words. On their way out, they would make the appropriate sad faces at him and one of them might offer some Yiddish aphorism about sad times.
It was too horrible. “That’s very gracious of you, thanks,” Adam said. “I’m okay. I don’t know how much praying I’ll be doing, but there are temples near here if I get the urge.”
Rabbi Mira was undaunted. Adam wondered how often she had this exact conversation. “Of course, we’d never want to intrude,” she said. “But you can change your mind any time. Just let me know. I also wanted to remind you that Rosh Hashana is practically here. I can’t believe it, but it starts Wednesday night, so the shiva period will end early. I don’t think I can get to you before the holiday, but I would like to stop by sometime soon if I could. I also wanted to invite you to our temple for High Holiday services this year. I know you usually came with your grandfather. Please be our guest.”
Adam hadn’t thought about Rosh Hashana without his grandfather. His throat constricted. He needed to get off the phone. “Thank you, Rabbi. I can get your number from Danny if I need it.”
The afternoon passed like a fever as Adam stared unfocused into space. Only the occasional stab of grief prodded his consciousness to awaken, like some swamp creature surfacing for air before sinking back down into the mud. It was after five when the phone rang again. This time, it was his cell. It was Danny.
“How are you doing, Danny?” Adam asked. He held his breath. He could hear it coming.
“Not so good, Adam.” The whine in Danny’s voice set Adam’s teeth on edge. “I need a favor.”
Adam knew his grandfather would have been Danny’s first call. Evidently, he was next in line. He exhaled slowly. “Yeah?” He moved his laundry over to the dryer as Danny spoke.
“I’m at a trade show in Jersey. Rose has known about it for months, but she got called into work. It’s an emergency, she says, and I can’t get home in time even if I leave now.” Danny paused, waiting, Adam knew, for an offer of help. After a couple of seconds, Danny asked, “Can you cover for me?”
“Cover what?” Adam was still in a fog.
“Henry. Can you watch Henry for me until I get back?”
Adam couldn’t claim to be too busy, he thought, not after pissing away the whole day. And he had to admit to himself that the thought of spending some time with Henry was appealing. He could read him a couple of books, maybe sing him a song or two. The change of venue might even help him get something done. And his grandfather would have been very pleased, Adam knew. He loved that boy.
“Do you need me to leave now?” Adam asked.
“Could
