FAUSTINA AND THE MAN stood in front of the sculpture. A small brown sparrow hopped about on the lawn’s edge that surrounded the sculpture’s concrete base. The sun’s rays broke through the eucalyptus branches and leaves to dapple the bronze with an enchanted light.
“You make us proud of our legs, old man,” said Faustina.
“What?” said the man, keeping his eyes on the sculpture.
“That’s from a Carl Sandburg poem about this very piece.”
“Someone wrote a poem about this sculpture? That is something I did not know.”
“Oh, yes, my art history degree actually serves a purpose from time to time, even if only to entertain,” laughed Faustina. “But I had to go to law school to pay the rent.”
They continued to admire the sculpture.
“In French, it’s L’homme qui marche,” said Faustina.
“That sounds better than The Walking Man,” said the man.
“Everything sounds better in French.”
“That is also something I did not know.”
“And I bet you also didn’t know that The Walking Man is a version of Saint John the Baptist over there but without a head and arms,” said Faustina as she pointed to the other sculpture.
The man looked at Saint John the Baptist and then back to The Walking Man and then back to Saint John the Baptist. The little brown sparrow pecked at the grass three times and then flew off.
“Why would Rodin remove Saint John’s head and arms to make The Walking Man?” the man finally asked.
“Well, some think that The Walking Man was a preliminary study for the complete Saint John the Baptist, but others think The Walking Man was meant to be whole unto itself, complete in its own way,” said Faustina.
The man nodded in thought.
“And Rodin composed the sculpture from a fragmented torso he attached to legs that he had sculpted for a different figure. But I think it works, don’t you?”
“Even with a missing head and arms?”
“Look at The Walking Man,” said Faustina. “Would you change it if you could?”
The man studied The Walking Man again and thought. Finally, after a full minute of concentration, he said, “I think it’s perfect the way it is.”
“So you’ve answered your own question.”
“I did.”
They stood in silence, absorbing the power of The Walking Man.
“I often wonder how my life would have been different if I continued with art history,” said Faustina. “You know, getting a masters and PhD. Maybe I’d be teaching or curating at a museum like this. Don’t get me wrong. I love being a lawyer, doing environmental cases, attacking climate change, going after plastic pollution, and all that. Fighting the good fight. It’s God’s work, as Mom says. Plus the money ain’t bad. But I sometimes think about that other life I never had. Would I have been happier? Would I be a fundamentally different person? Do you ever think that?”
“I’ve never thought about that.”
“But I do know one thing,” said Faustina. “I love this museum. Every time I’m here, I feel renewed by the art.”
The man turned to Faustina. “I didn’t know you’d been here before. I thought it was something new for you when I suggested it.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all. I never get tired of looking at beautiful art. Besides…”
“Besides?”
“Besides,” said Faustina, “I’ve never been here with you, so that makes it a new experience, right?”
The man thought about this observation. “Yes,” he finally said, “I think you’re right.”
“Have you been here before?” said Faustina.
“No,” said the man. “At least not that I know of.”
“So in some ways I am looking at it through your eyes. So it’s sort of like a new experience for me.”
Faustina’s phone beeped. She studied the new text. “Oh, fuck,” she said.
“What’s wrong,” said the man.
“It’s Saul, my stepfather,” said Faustina as she texted a reply. “Mom is in the hospital. I’ve got to get there. It’s the Huntington Hospital on California, so it’s not too far. About five minutes away.” She took a few steps toward the parking lot.
“I can go with you,” said the man.
“Okay, okay, can you drive?” said Faustina. “That would help.”
“Yes, I can drive.”
“And we can get my car later.”
“Yes,” said the man. “I parked over there.”
“SHE’S SLEEPING RIGHT NOW,” said Saul as Faustina and the man walked quickly down the hall toward him.
Saul opened his arms to receive his stepdaughter and give her a big hug. After a few moments, they separated, and Faustina introduced the man to Saul as her friend.
“Happy to meet a friend of Faustina’s,” said Saul.
“Let’s go to the waiting room so we can talk,” said Faustina. “Just let the desk know so they can get us when they know more.”
Saul dutifully complied and then the trio walked to the waiting room down the hall. They entered the small, earth-toned room, and Faustina guided Saul to a row of chairs. They all sat.
“So what do they think?” said Faustina.
“Still running tests. Since she had that pacemaker put in, she had been doing better. But this morning she was feeling out of sorts, and then I got worried about the things she was saying.” Saul ran his left hand through his shaggy gray hair.
Faustina took a deep breath. “What do you mean, the things she was saying?”
“Well, she started to respond to any question I asked in, er, you know, Spanish,” said Saul. “And she knows I don’t speak much beyond a few phrases. I never was any good with languages.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, so maybe a stroke. They don’t know yet.”
“Did she slur?” said Faustina.
“A little, but not much. As far as I could tell, her sentences made sense, but like I said, I’m not the best judge of that. I asked her what day it was and what my name was, you know, all the things they say you should ask if you think someone has had a stroke. Those AARP newsletters actually have good articles in them, especially about health. Anyway, she was lucid and knew the answers to all of my questions. The doctor said it could just be that she was dehydrated or just tired. You know, we’re not getting any younger.”
“Have you eaten anything?” said Faustina.
“I had a few spoonsful of oatmeal and a sip of coffee, but I got worried about your mother so I decided to bring her here and worry about breakfast later.”
Faustina turned toward the man. “Would you mind running over to the cafeteria to get a coffee and a muffin or something for Saul? I don’t want to leave in case they get news about Mom.”
“I can do that,” said the man. He then paused. “Do you want something too?”
Faustina smiled. “A coffee would be great.”
“With half-and-half,” said the man.
“Yes, with half-and-half,” said Faustina.
“I take mine black,” said Saul, offering a tired smile. “Thank you much.”
“You’re welcome,” said the man as he stood and then left the waiting room.
“So how are you?” said Saul. “New boyfriend? He knows how you take your coffee.”
“Saul, I’m almost forty.”
“Okay, significant other? Partner? Reason for living? Booty call?”
Faustina let out a guffaw and then a snort.
“So ladylike,” laughed Saul.
“He’s just a guy I’ve been spending time with recently, that’s all.”
“He seems nice.”
“He is.”
“Does your mother know about him yet?”
“No, I wasn’t ready. It’s all too new. Maybe it won’t last.”
Saul put his arm around Faustina. “Any guy would be lucky to have your heart.”
Faustina leaned into Saul. “That’s why Mom fell for you after Pop died. You’re a sweetie.”
They sat in silence, listening to themselves breathe, both lost in thought.
“So,” said Saul, “I did notice.”
“What did you notice?” said Faustina as she extricated herself from Saul’s arm.
“You know, his hands.”
“And?”
“And nothing, really,” said Saul. “Forget I said anything.”
“Do you think it’s an issue?”
“No, no, not at all. I just noticed.”
Faustina shifted in her seat. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Look,” said Saul as he patted Faustina’s arm, “it’s not a big deal. The most important thing is that you’re happy. There’s just so much hatred out there. But you know the risks.”
“I do.”
“So don’t worry about an old man’s concerns. You will be fine. You always are.”
“It’s not serious. I mean, it’s all too new to know if it’s going to get serious, so it’s not a big deal, okay?”
“I’m sorry, dear, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I’ll stay out of your business. Let’s focus on your mom, okay?”
Faustina leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She stared at the wallpaper across the room. The design bothered her in all its bland, noncontroversial glory: brown and tan leaves gently falling from an unseen tree. Who could create such eye pablum? The artist likely studied at one of the finest art schools but could only get work in the commercial wallpaper industry. A person wearing blue scrubs walked into the room, disrupting Faustina’s musings.
“Mr. Saperstein?”
“Yes,” said Saul as he stood.
“I’m Dr. Yi,” she said, nodding. “Your wife is awake and she’s doing much better. Dr. Ralston, whom you met when your wife was admitted, briefed me earlier before I started my rounds.”
Faustina stood and said, “Was it a stroke?”
“You’re her daughter?”
“Yes.”
“I see the resemblance,” said the doctor with a smile. “No stroke. She was dehydrated. I have her on an IV of saline to rehydrate her, and also we’ll be adjusting her diuretics. This is common for someone her age, and she just had that pacemaker put in. But it might be wise to keep her here overnight until she’s stable and we’ve ruled everything else out.”
“Makes sense,” said Faustina.
“May we see her?” said Saul.
“Give her about fifteen minutes,” said the doctor. “The nurse is finishing up with her right now.”
“Okay,” said Saul. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”
“My pleasure.” She nodded and left.
Saul and Faustina sighed in unison and sat again. The man came back into the waiting room carrying two paper cups of coffee. A blueberry muffin wrapped in cellophane balanced on the cup’s plastic lid.
“Okay, now you eat something,” said Faustina. “You have to keep up your strength to take care of Mom.”
“Yes, boss,” said Saul. “That is my sole goal in life.”
“MIJA, I AM FINE,” said Verónica. “Stop fussing.”
“Mom,” said Faustina as she leaned over her mother, “you were speaking Spanish to Saul and you know he doesn’t speak it. So of course he knew something was wrong.”
“Maybe I wanted to teach him a new language.”
Saul laughed and winked at Verónica.
“Lo siento,” said Verónica to the man. “This is not the way I wanted to meet my daughter’s new novio.”
“He is not my new novio,” said Faustina.
The man looked at Faustina and then back to Verónica.
“Let him speak for himself,” said Verónica. “What are you? A new novio, or just a friend?”
The man looked at Verónica. Faustina was simply a younger version of this woman, whose age and medical situation did nothing to diminish her beauty.
“Objection,” said Faustina. She turned to the man and stage-whispered, “Your attorney advises you not to answer that question.”
“I am a man,” said the man.
Verónica let out a little laugh. “Sí, veo que eres un hombre.”
“Sí, solo soy un hombre,” said the man.
Faustina turned to the man. “You speak Spanish?”
“Yes,” said the man. “A little.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Faustina.
“You didn’t ask,” said the man in a gentle tone.
Verónica smiled and nodded.
“¿Dónde naciste?” said Verónica.
The man thought. He assumed he was born in three different places—judging by the map of his body—but he didn’t know where because that information was never shared. But he did know that his reanimation was done in a facility located north of Los Angeles in Oxnard.
“Oxnard,” said the man.
“Ellos cultivan fresas en Oxnard,” said Verónica.
“Yes,” said Faustina, training her eyes on the man. “They grow the best strawberries there.”
The man nodded. A memory lurked in the shadows of his mind, but it quickly slipped away.
“Oh, crap,” said Faustina as her phone beeped. She read her calendar alert to herself. “I completely forgot that Leonard and his hubby are hosting our annual firm party tonight. I shouldn’t go, not with Mom here and all.”
“No, Mija,” said Verónica. “You and your new novio should go. I am doing fine. No te preocupes. Saul is here. The doctors and nurses are nice.”
“Everything is under control here,” said Saul. “They’re going to kick you out anyway at eight, probably right around the time the party would be starting. You two should go. They’re keeping your mom overnight anyway, and there’s only room for me to sack out there on that recliner.”
“I didn’t know about this party,” said the man.
Faustina blushed. “It’s not a big deal. I wasn’t going to bother you about it since we had our… our… trip to the museum anyway. You’d be sick of me.”
“But…” said the man.
“We can talk about it later.”
“But I would like to meet your friends.”
Faustina almost jumped. She looked at the man. Verónica smiled. Saul tried unsuccessfully to muffle a chuckle.
“You and your new novio should go to the party tonight,” said Verónica. “That would make me happy.”
“Oh, okay,” said Faustina. “But we need to get my car from the museum, and I want to shower and change into something nicer.”
“Yes,” said the man. “That makes sense. And I want to go for a run anyway, so I’ll need to shower too.”
Saul clapped his hands together. “Sounds like a plan! Again, don’t worry. Your mom is stronger than all of us put together. You two have fun, and then Faustina can call me tomorrow morning so I can give you an update. And we all have cell phones, so we are all connected. We mean it. Have fun. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Faustina as she leaned down to kiss her mother. “Deal.”
THEY SAT IN SILENCE as the man guided his car back to the museum’s parking lot. He carefully pulled into a spot that had just opened up near Faustina’s car. The man parked but left the motor running. He looked to his left and could see the torso of The Walking Man, the lower half of the sculpture obfuscated by a black Mercedes. The man thought about what Faustina had told him about the sculpture. It was perfect, even with no head or arms. He wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“You know, you don’t have to go to the law firm party,” said Faustina. “Don’t feel compelled just because my mother basically invited you.”
The man turned toward Faustina. “I want to go,” he said. He thought for a moment. Then he said, “Do you want me to go?”
Faustina laughed. “That’s the million-dollar question, right?”
The man turned back toward The Walking Man. The black Mercedes backed out so that the lower part of the sculpture gradually became visible.
“I don’t understand,” said the man. “What’s the million-dollar question?”
“What are we?”
“What do you mean?”
They sat in silence again. The man could now see the whole of The Walking Man. He could not take his eyes of the Rodin sculpture.
“You know,” ventured Faustina, “if you meet my friends, certain expectations are created. Right?”
“Like what?”
Faustina sighed. “Like they think we’re a couple or something.”
“I met your mother and stepfather,” said the man as he turned away from The Walking Man and focused on his dashboard.
“You have a point,” laughed Faustina. “Oh, fuck it. We’ll have fun. I’m the senior partner, goddamn it. It will be fine.”
“Yes, it will be fine.”
“And if my lawyer friends want to assume a fact not in evidence, then that’s their problem.”
Faustina opened the car door and paused. “Like I said, I’m going to take a short nap, then shower and change. I can swing by your place around seven.”
“Yes, I will be ready. I have time to go for a run and shower.”
“And don’t snack too much between now and then. Leonard cooks up a storm. I have a nice bottle of pinot grigio chilling in the fridge that I can bring. You don’t need to bring anything since I invited you.”
“I will see you at seven,” said the man as he glanced at The Walking Man one more time before turning to Faustina. “I will not snack too much.”
“Famous last words,” said Faustina as she got out of the car. “See you in a few hours, okay?”
“Yes, three hours and twenty-two minutes,” said the man as he scanned the time on his dashboard.
Faustina laughed. “You are quite precise, my friend.”
“Yes,” said the man. “I am.”