—Lenny, I said more gently, it’s okay.
—It’s Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s.
—What?
—That I’ve got. Please don’t tell the others. He pointed idly out my window, then gestured downstairs, toward Kevin’s quarters.
—Oh. I won’t.
—Even the doctor was stunned. He’s an old Jew, too. He said, You must have done quite a lot wrong in your time. Ha!
—When did you find out?
—I’ve known.
In the distance we heard the coyotes howling. Their voices were bright and bony. At night in the canyon everything stilled. There was either a terrible wind or there was no movement at all.
Leonard looked around my house. He looked at the envelopes on my tables as though they were bits of lingerie. Most were overdue bills.
—You’re a mysterious woman, Joan.
—You’re a nosy old man.
—I may be. But I’m a rich nosy old man. Why don’t you be nice to me, and you never know who remembers who in their will.
—You never know, I said, gripping the counter. I wanted money so badly. When I had money, I could drive away from myself.
He checked the time on a watch I’d never noticed, then jingled it at me.
—You see this, old girl?
—What?
—This timepiece is the only one of its kind. Patek Philippe 1939 Platinum. My father was a cunt. I figured he was going to bury himself with this watch. But he left it for me. The only thing he ever did. I don’t think it was love, anyhow. This watch, old girl, is worth a lot of money.
—It doesn’t look it.
He laughed at me.
—Don’t laugh at me, Leonard.
—I’m sorry, dear. Precious things are not always comely.
He turned toward the door, then back to me.
—Joan. Would you come back to my house with me? I am overdue for my pill. Long overdue, in fact.
I didn’t want to go, but I went. I’d done the same thing with every other man I’d known. I went with them in case it got bad and I needed to be saved. I don’t mean saved by a man. I mean saved by money, by someone doing something dirty for me. The dirty part was how I couldn’t accept someone’s help without subjugating myself in some sinister, sexual way.
I followed Lenny outside and down the grassy path. There was a breeze for a change. The wealthy people had all the breezes, in the Hills, in the Palisades. Lenny had money, so I wondered why he lived in a garden shed at the top of this rusted canyon. Whenever I had money, I lived beautifully. I was good at living in the present, in believing that tomorrow would be taken care of. Gosia always told me that. Money will always come back, she said. It goes and it comes back more than anything.
Lenny unlocked his door. That he kept it locked was interesting.
—Here we are, he said. I followed his little body inside. The smell hit me. That elderly smell of bone dust on medium-pile carpets. Of coffee and orange juice dumped into the same sink together. Whenever I smelled old people, I felt cheated out of not having parents. At the same time I was grateful. While the death of my parents when I was so young had brought me a world of devastation, I would at least be spared seeing them come undignified. My mother would always be beautiful, my father would always be strong. His big hands, pumping gas in the side-view mirror of the car.
The place was all pine, even the ceiling, and overstuffed with furniture and Persian rugs from the larger house I now occupied, which did indeed make it feel cozy. But the cozy feeling lent itself to some suggestion of dread. Perhaps because it reminded me of the Poconos. It was cozy there, too. Cozy like the first few minutes of a horror movie.
Lenny had a twelve-inch television on a gloomy TV stand and the bedroom was behind an accordion partition. There was a pipe and packets of vanilla-flavored tobacco. Every wall was covered in shelves for all of his books. I pictured River building the place, his arms and neck beading sweat in the canyon sun.
—Please, sit, he said, indicating a corduroy recliner.
—It’s very quiet on this side of the rock. Do you hear the coyotes at night?
—I only hear what I want to, he said, victoriously tapping a hearing aid.
When he scratched his head the watch fell down to the middle of his skinny arm. Now that I knew it had worth, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. He caught me looking. My face grew hot and I looked away, focusing my eyes on his china cabinet. I saw he had a set of Laboratorio Paravicini plates. My mother had only one, a dinner plate, that she cherished. Had I broken it, I wonder if she’d have hit me. She never hit me. I would have been okay with being hit.
—Paravicini, I said.
He nodded, impressed, which enraged me.
—We had them, growing up, I said, thinking of the lone plate at the top of our credenza, the way it shone. It never had a lick of food on it. I sold it at the house sale, along with nearly everything.
—Your family is from Italy.
—My mother was, yes. I was born there.
—Your mother is passed? he asked, without enough kindness.
I nodded. There was a spider unspooling from a web above Lenny’s head. I didn’t say anything, even when the spider was nearly on his nose.
—And your father?
—As well.
—I’m sorry. Recently?
—No.
—You were young?
—Quite.
—Dear God, child. What happened?
—An accident.
—Motor vehicle?
—No. In the home.
—A fire?
—Leonard, where is your chamomile collection? I’m sure you have one. I could make you some tea if you would shut the fuck up.
I was teasing and he smiled. Now that I knew he had a disease, I’d softened to him, but just a bit.
—I got the drug. L-dopa. How do you like that name? It sounds like a female drug lord. He also gave me Razadyne to
