“We’re not going out to dinner?” David asked his mom. It was nearly eight o’clock on Wednesday evening, but Jonathan hadn’t arrived at the Grobart’s yet.
Hilary Grobart looked up quickly from the New York Times crossword puzzle she was completing. The radio was tuned to a classical music station, and choral music surrounded them. Both Hilary and Sam Grobart were in their big leather easy chairs with their feet up; Hilary with the puzzle, Sam totally absorbed by The New England Journal of Medicine. The corners of David’s thick lips pointed down. If he could have freeze-framed his childhood, this would be the picture.
“Why, no. Why would we?” she asked.
David tried to remember the last time she’d ever answered a question without asking a question. He couldn’t. Her book Always Ask First was still hovering in the top one hundred on the New York Times’ extended list.
“Because Jonathan is coming over.”
“All the more reason to have a nice warm dinner at home, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“David.” His mother raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to share with us?”
“No.”
The intercom buzzed and the doorman said he was sending Jonathan up. A moment later there was a knock on the door.
David’s dad leapt to attention. He ruffled himself like a pigeon and his eyes seemed to brighten. David watched his dad and a shiver shot through him.
“Hello, Jonathan, dear boy!” Sam Grobart grabbed the door and opened it wide for Jonathan. Johathan put his bulging garment bag and an extra RL bag right by the door, as if he wanted easy access should he need to make a quick escape.
“What the hell?” Jonathan mouthed to David. David shrugged.
“We’re very glad to have you here,” Sam said. The buzzer rang again, and everyone jumped as if an electric current had shot through the air.
“What the hell is that?” Hilary asked.
“It’s the pizza man!” Sam tripped over Jonathan’s bag and kicked it as he ran to open the door. A short man in a white apron stood there with two large pizza boxes. “Molto grazie,” Sam said. “Everybody loves Lombardi’s!”
Sam thrust three twenties at the pizza man, grabbed the pies from him, and shut the door.
“Let’s eat here in the living room, it’ll be fun!”
“Why?”
“Not now, Hilary. Go get some Cokes.”
“You know perfectly well we don’t keep soda in the house. Don’t you?”
“Oh, right.” Sam stood suddenly and ran back to the door. The short man was still there. He handed Sam a six-pack of Coke and Sam slammed the door again.
“Plates, napkins, no forks. This is fun, right?” Sam opened one of the boxes and the smell of mushroom and onion pizza filled the room.
“Don’t ask me what’s going on,” David mumbled to Jonathan.
“I think I can guess,” Jonathan whispered.
“Everyone in a circle.” Sam dragged chairs around the coffee table and Hilary distributed plates and paper towels. Soon they were all eating loudly. It was really good pizza: thin crust, with fresh mozzarella and basil and garlic you could actually taste.
“Thanks,” Jonathan said, between bites. “This is good.”
“What life is about,” Sam Grobart announced and stood suddenly, wiping his mouth with a paper towel.
“Oh no,” David said.
“Life is about forgiveness. It’s about embracing your enemies.”
“While we’re eating?” Hilary Grobart said, closing her eyes.
“It’s about breaking bread with those who’ve hurt you.”
“Um,” Jonathan said.
“We’re okay with the past,” Sam waved a limp pizza crust at this audience of three. “But I think we should all be able to wrestle with the fact that your father is a thief, because nothing, nothing, is more important than honesty. I mean really, would we be decent people if we cared that your father stole our money? I for one, think not.”
“I didn’t—”
“Be quiet now, Jonathan. We love you, see? We are beating our swords into ploughshares!” Like some crazed cartoon maestro, Sam Grobart whipped the air with his pizza crust.
“Dad?”
“Some people keep secrets hidden, but not me. I’m totally against secrecy, which is the enemy of honesty!”
“Is this insanity really some misplaced jealousy of the success of my book?” Hilary asked her husband. “Because we both know I’m having a lot of trouble with the second one and that must be some consolation to you.”
But Sam Grobart, potbellied and bald, with the wild eyes of a street-corner preacher, was beyond hearing.
“The sins of the father are not reflected on the son. Not at all! And we are here, breaking pizza with the son! He shall sleep under our very roof.”
“I think I better go,” Jonathan said.
“Not without me,” David said.
The two boys stood up and made for the door.
“We know everything about you, and we’re okay with it! That’s what you need to know.” Sam Grobart rushed at Jonathan and hugged him. “We want you to stay here for as long as you like. I’ve been your mother’s therapist since before you were born and this is where I’ve arrived, at a place of complete forgiveness—a place where we all can live in harmony!”
“Calm down now dear, you can’t charge anyone for this session.” Hilary Grobart pried her husband off Jonathan.
“I forgive, and I share secrets.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” Jonathan said.
“Boys, don’t leave,” Sam went on. “There’s more pizza and goodwill where this all came from—have another Coke.”
But David and Jonathan were already out the door and into the elevator.
“I’m sorry.” David looked wide-eyed at Jonathan. “I wish he hadn’t …you know… done that.”
“I guess my dad took some money from your dad, huh?” Jonathan wiped at a spot on his coat that Sam Grobart had put there with his greasy hands.
“I don’t entirely get what he was talking about, so who can say for sure? My dad can get pretty crazy. I think he’s starting some kind of forgiveness sessions. He already has people signing up. I hear Arno’s parents are interested.”
“That makes sense.” Jonathan sighed. They went out of the lobby, and stepped into the windy street. They walked west on Jane, with no particular direction in mind.
“Jonathan?”
“What?”
“Could you not tell anyone that my dad is kind of insane?”
“Okay. But could you not tell anyone that my dad probably did something really awful with your family’s money?”
“Okay.” David looked away. “Dude?”
“Yeah?”
“Who are you really taking on this sailing trip? ’Cause I think everyone—well, maybe not Patch, because we can’t find him again—but everyone else thinks they’re going, but I know you said you could only bring one guy, so…”
Jonathan sighed. “Yeah, I kind of made a mess with all that.”
“And none of us were going to say anything, but I think you need to be honest with us, you know?”
“You sound like your dad.”
“I know. It’s creepy.” David shuddered.
“I can’t believe I’m going to stay at your house tonight,” Jonathan said. “Do you have a lock on your door?”
“Not really. But we can always prop a chair.”