Harbourview project to a local consortium that included Gordon Avrith.
My brother hasn't called. Or has he?
My mother wants me to see a specialist. 'He's the best in the city,' she said. 'He went to McGill with your cousin Steven-remember Auntie Gertie's son? Finished first in his class. I pulled a lot of strings to get you an appointment. Luckily for you, his wife takes an interest in the Cuban Jewish community and I chaired a fundraising drive last year to send Passover food.'
No, my brother didn't call, I'm sure of it now, which means he isn't talking to me. Or maybe it's me that's not talking to him. Either way, neither of us is talking to the other. I would be very surprised if I got any more referrals from him.
Ryan sent in food the first week, and last week he came to see me. We watched a football game-Jets and the Patriots, I think. He had to keep reminding me of the down, the yardage, the score. He showed me some new pictures of his son, Carlo, taken at a fall softball tournament. He'd once told me, back when he was in the killing game, that he never carried a picture of his wife or kid, afraid that someone might follow that trail back to where they lived. Now he can watch his son play; he can take and carry pictures and show them with the pleasure and pride of a dad.
I have to make these headaches go away and get back to work. Marilyn paid us for a full week, and Rob kicked in another week's pay to see me through this slow phase. But it won't last forever. Scary Mary will call and be Scary Mary nice, and Jenn and I will cringe and pass each other the phone. Maybe Jenn will land some new work, log a few hours while I heal. Maybe a simple family matter.
How dangerous can they be?
