then, suddenly, I know what it is. Nearly eighteen years after his birth, I suspect that I am at long last going to get to know my son. And for better or worse, he is going to get to know me.
“Okay,” I begin. “Here’s my plan. Let’s dump your sack at the apartment and figure out the weekend from there.”
“Sounds good.”
“I want to talk to you. I want you to talk to me. Let’s talk about everything, and let’s not be afraid of anything, all right? All that exists are tonight, Saturday, and Sunday.”
“What about Monday?”
“For now I say, fuck Monday.”
“Can we talk about your childhood?”
I roll my eyes, try to ignore the fact that my heart is suddenly beating faster than it should. “If you want. Don’t expect to be thrilled, though. It was pretty dull, as childhoods go.”
“I doubt that very much.”
Jake smiles. He’s got beautiful teeth, nicely spaced and white, teeth that didn’t need braces and have cost me little more than cleaning bills all these years. That’s one break I did catch. If Jake had needed braces, I probably would have had to hold up a few bodegas to pay the orthodontist.
Still aglow from believing she’d been recognized, the waitress drops off a check for $12.35, with a smiley face under the total and the words “Thank you!” I slap down a twenty and get up to leave.
“Hell of a tip,” Jake says.
“She deserves it. Maybe it’ll help her realize her dream. I’m all for dreams, especially the ones that don’t come true.”
“You’re weird, Dad.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
The two of us walk out, floating in space like astronauts whose lifelines to the mother ship have snapped.
And just like that a tall, well-dressed black kid steps in front of Jake on the sidewalk, refusing to let him pass. “I’ve got to talk to you, Perez.”
Jake calmly sets his bag on the sidewalk. “The name’s Perez-Sullivan.”
“Well, whatever your name is, we’ve got things to discuss before you disappear.”
The kid speaks beautifully. He’s actor-handsome and slightly taller than Jake, lean and muscular, tense as a tuning fork. I make a move toward them, but without even looking at me, Jake holds out a hand to keep me at bay. Then I notice that the black kid is wearing the school tie, and the whole thing becomes clear. He pokes Jake in the chest with his forefinger.
“See, I’ve got some issues with your essay. Let me ask you something, man. Do I look harmless to you?”
“Not in the least.”
“Then why the hell did you say I was harmless?”
“I didn’t. I said the school handpicked kids like you for their apparent harmlessness. You’ve got to pay attention to the adjective, Luther. It’s vital to that sentence.”
Luther eases back a step. Jake maintains his stance, as if they are still nose to nose. My son does not seem frightened or surprised in the least. This is disconcerting to Luther, who narrows his eyes.
“So what the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying you fooled them, Luther. You’re smarter than they are. Level with me. How do you feel about the people who run the school?”
Luther licks his lips. “I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had.”
“Oh, come on, man! How do you feel about the people who make sure guys like you are always front and center for photo opportunities, whenever big shots come to visit? How do you feel about being trotted out like a show pony?”
Luther’s eyes darken. “I fucking hate it.”
“Well, I can understand that. But I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Luther. Believe me, they don’t know how you feel. You got ’em fooled. And I have a feeling you’re going to fool them all the way into whatever college you choose.”
“Hey, whoa, man. You listen to me. I work hard. I bust my ass.”
“I know you do. You’re going to get what you want. You play their game beautifully. I actually admire that, in a way. But I’ve had enough of the game. I just can’t play it anymore.”
Luther nods, purses his lips. “I hear you.”
Jake extends his hand to Luther. “Good luck to you, man. Sorry you misunderstood what I wrote.”
Luther’s lips curl into a smile. He hesitates before shaking Jake’s hand. “Man,” he says, “I was going to punch you in the nose. And here I am now, shaking your hand.”
“For what it’s worth, Luther, I’ve always thought of you as an extremely fearsome individual. And for what it’s worth, I’m not disappearing, I’m getting on with my life.”
Luther laughs out loud, lets go of Jake’s hand, and shakes his head. “Be cool, crazy man,” he says, and then he’s gone, before I can even introduce myself.
Jake picks up his bag, hoists it back onto his shoulder. “That was exciting, huh?”
“Jesus Christ, Jake, he was ready to clobber you!”
“Nah. Luther Johnson’s got too much to lose. He’s on a full scholarship, and he’d never do anything to jeopardize that. Not now, with Harvard and Princeton and Yale fighting to get him. He’s a great student and a great athlete. Last thing his pristine record needs is an arrest on assault charges.”
“Think that actually crossed his mind?”
“Of course it did. Believe me, Luther knows all about consequences. His father is serving fifteen years for manslaughter. Can we go home now, Dad?”
We drift along Broadway, heading north, making one stop at a bank so I can deposit Peter Plymouth’s check. Once it clears, the grand total in my checking account will be $7,212.53. It’s the most money I’ve ever had. For the moment, I allow myself to feel like a rich man. The moment will pass, I know, but not just yet. If nothing else, I’m learning how to appreciate The Moment. Not an easy thing for a fallen Catholic like me, trained as I was to believe that this life is really just a rehearsal for the afterlife.
When I come out of the bank Jake hoists his sack back onto his shoulder. “Hey, Dad,” he says, “where’s your stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“From your office. You gotta go back and get it?”
“There’s nothing to take.” I open my jacket to reveal the New York Star notebook jutting from my inside pocket. “Just this little souvenir to show for twenty-nine years on the job.”
He stares at me and says, “You always knew they were
