Nine

I dropped my Zipcar in the Hilton’s parking garage and wandered onto Dalton Street. Took a right and headed down Dalton for my house. I didn’t make it. The rippled waters of the Christian Science Church reflecting pool caught my eye and drew me in. I sat on a bench and watched the reflection of the First Church shimmer on the water.

The church’s dome arched into a light blue September sky. Cumulus clouds drifted behind the church. A pigeon with a clubfoot clomped about with its mates, pecking at the ground for nonexistent food.

I’d had a brother, and the only thing we’d possibly do together was attend his funeral.

I pulled out my Droid and took a picture of the First Church with the brilliant blue sky behind it. Tweeted the picture:

A good spot for contemplating life’s sense of humor.

It was becoming pointless to resist the notion that John Tucker had been my brother, regardless of what Uncle Walt had said. Still, I grasped at alternative explanations. Cathy had refused to answer a simple question: Was he my brother? Maybe he was a distant cousin.

The Droid was heavy in my hand. I futzed with it and dialed.

“Buenos dias, Señor Tucker,” said Lucy.

“Buenos dias, yourself,” I said. “I see the police got you home okay.”

“They were great. They even dropped me off around the corner so my parents wouldn’t see me getting out of a police car.”

“I still can’t get over the idea that you live with your parents.”

“I don’t live with my parents. They live in the downstairs apartment and I live upstairs. Still, they keep an eye out for me.”

“Is it nice? Being watched over?”

“Tucker, what’s wrong? Was that guy your brother?”

“Who knows. I’ve been invited to lunch with his mother tomorrow.”

“And you’re going?”

“Sure. Why not? It seems like the only way I’m going to know the truth.”

“Do you really need that? The truth?”

Clubby the pigeon launched himself and flew away with his flock, heading for a little kid with an overflowing bag of popcorn. The kid saw the incoming swarm of birds and fled back to his father. He stood under his father’s legs and peeked out at the flock. The dad took a handful of popcorn and tossed it into the mass of birds. The kid got the idea and tossed some, laughing as the birds pecked around their feet. Did I ever do that with my dad? Who else would remember him?

“Actually, I had another reason for calling,” I said. “I feel bad that last night got screwed up. I’d like to make it up to you. Would you like to come over to my house for dinner tonight? I’ll make us ratatouille with some fresh vegetables from Haymarket.”

“Just the two of us at your house. Sounds like fun. Do you think my virtue would be safe with you?”

“Your virtue? What about my virtue?” I said. “I’ve heard that women today can be quite aggressive.”

“I’ll be good,” said Lucy. “I promise.”

“Me too,” I said. “Let’s have dinner at six and be done by eight. I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“Okay. Dinner at six.”

We broke the connection. I followed the reflecting pool to Mass Ave and crossed the street to Symphony Hall station. The train would take me to Haymarket, right by the North End of Boston.

I made a call before I descended into the tunnel. The phone got picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Sal, it’s your cousin Tucker.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

That’s some good family bonding right there.