I shook my head.
'He was very small.' Another smile. 'Very small-behind his back my father called him a monkey. Affectionately. A monkey who thought he was a lion. It became a village joke and Larry didn't mind at all.
Perhaps the Muslims believed he was a lion. They never hurt him.
Allowed him to take me away on the plane. A month after we got to New York, I was robbed on the street by a drug addict.
Terrified. But the city never frightened larry. I used to joke that he frightened it. My fierce little monkey. And now.
She shook her head. Covered her mouth again and looked away.
Several moments passed before I said, 'Why did you move to Los Angeles?'
'Larry was unhappy at Sloan-Kettering. Too many rules, too much politics. He said we should move to California and live in this house-it was the best piece of property he'd bought. He thought it was foolish that someone else should enjoy it while we lived in an apartment. So he evicted the tenant-some kind of film producer who hadn't paid his rent.'
'Why did he choose Western Pediatrics?'
She hesitated. 'Please don't be offended, Doctor, but his reasoning was that Western Peds was a hospital in... decline. Money problems. So his financial independence meant he'd be left alone to pursue his research.'
'What kind of research was he doing?'
'Same as always, dicease patterns. I don't know much about it-Larry didn't like to talk about his work.' She shook her head.
'He didn't talk much at all. After the Sudan, the cancer patients in New York, he wanted nothing to do with real people and their pain.'
'I've heard he kept to himself.'
She smiled tenderly. 'He loved to be alone. Didn't even want a secretary. He said he could type faster and more accurately on his word processor, so what was the purpose?'
'He had research assistants, didn't he? Like Dawn Herbert.'
'I don't know names, but yes, from time to time he'd hire graduate students from the university, but they never met his standards.'
'The university over in Westwood?'
'Yes. His grant paid for lab assistance and there were tasks that he needn't have bothered himself with. But he was never happy with the work of others. The truth is, Doctor, Larry just didn't like depending on anyone else. Self-reliance became his religion. After my robbery in New York, he insisted we both learn self-defense. Said the police were lazy and didn't care. He found an old Korean man in lower Manhattan who taught us karate, kick- fighting-different techniques. I attended two or three lessons, then stopped. It seemed illogical-how could our hands protect us against a drug addict with a gun? But larry kept going and practiced every night. Earned a belt.'
'Black belt?'
A brown one. Larry said brown was enough; anything more would have been ego.'
Lowering her face, she cried softly into her hands. I took a napkin from the lacquer tray, stood by her chair, and had it ready when she looked up. Her hand gripped my fingers hard enough to sting, then let go. I sat back down.
She said, 'Is there anything else I can get you?'
I shook my head. 'Is there something I can do for you?'
'No, thank you. Just your coming to visit was gracious-we don't know many people.'
She looked around the room once more.
