A Noble Experiment

Edward took the last two letters from the kitchen drawer and fed them into the shredder. He didn’t even bother reading them again first, although he remembered that one had been a computer printout from a woman named Carole, and the other was written in a large, loopy scrawl and signed “Yours, Ann.” Well, not mine anymore, he thought as the machine screeched and pulped her words, although he found bits of shredded paper stuck to his shoe, like confetti, hours later at school.

If any of his stepchildren brought up the ad—as they still occasionally did, fishing for news—he would say it had been a noble, if failed, experiment, and he’d try not to sound sardonic, or add Like Prohibition. And he’d put off Frances’s subtle concern for his social well-being and Bernie’s blatant questions about his sex life. He certainly wasn’t “getting any,” to use Bernie’s vernacular, unless you counted pleasuring oneself, which in Edward’s case seemed more of an appeasement than an actual pleasure. He would be sixty-four soon. In time, and without stimulation, even that need would go away.

On a bright Saturday morning in April, he drove to the Greenbrook Sanctuary, where the usual spring crowd of swallows and crows chirped and cawed and rustled in the trees, which were just beginning to bud. There were other birders ahead of him on the path, so he lingered in a copse of paper birch and was rewarded by the sighting of an airborne purple martin, a species that usually nested closer to human habitation. Edward had never seen one before in all the years he’d visited the Palisades. An adult male, he guessed, from the full iridescent plumage. He watched it soar and bank and dive—a daring solo aerialist—and finally fly off before he noted it in his journal.

That evening, he took his family out for dinner, to everyone’s favorite Chinese restaurant. Edward picked up Gladys, who used a walker now and required a daytime aide. But she had thrown off the mental fuzziness of the hospital, and was dressed up for this outing in stylish layers of wool and silk. To top it all off, she wore a rakish green felt hat from the 1940s that made her look like an aged Robin Hood in drag.

On the phone, Amanda had said that she and Nick wanted to hold a sort of intervention at the restaurant for Julie, who was still seeing, and being emotionally mistreated by, her boyfriend, Todd. In fact, she was only available to join them on a Saturday night because Todd had bailed on her again, with some flimsy excuse this time about work he had to catch up on. Since he had an entry-level job at Chase, it was hard to think of anything besides a heist that would require him to put in overtime hours at the bank.

“It’s just dinner,” Edward told Amanda. “I don’t think you want to corner Julie there.”

“It will be informal and loving,” Amanda assured him. “Totally constructive.”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed on the extension. “And that girl needs help.”

Before they hung up, he told Edward that he had a little surprise for him, too.

What now? Edward wondered. He hoped they hadn’t planted another personal ad on his behalf, or intended to place one for Julie in some younger, hipper version of the NYR. But he, too, wished she’d get out of that relationship, and maybe it would only happen if she met someone new.

They had a round table at Tung’s, with a lazy Susan at its center, which they rotated slowly to pass the fragrant variety of dishes around. Julie had seemed in low spirits at the beginning of dinner, but she’d perked up by the time the fresh pineapple and fortune cookies were served. Maybe it was all that protein or just being with her family. She’d even tried on her grandmother’s hat, to general acclaim. Gladys said, “You could have modeled at Bamberger’s in my day!”

That’s when Amanda cleared her throat in an attention-getting way. Next, she’d be tapping on her water glass with a knife. Edward tried to forestall her by opening his fortune cookie and reading it aloud, the sort of thing Amanda or Julie was far more likely to do. “Listen to this,” he said. “ ‘Strike iron while hot.’ ” It made him remember ironing Bee’s blouses, but all he said to the table at large was, “So what do you think this means?”

The kids looked at one another, surprised by the question. Then Nick said, “English as a second language?”

“It means you’re still hot, of course,” Julie said.

Edward glanced nervously at Gladys, who was sipping her tea and appeared to be deeply within her own thoughts.

“But maybe not forever,” Nick warned.

Amanda cleared her throat again. “Speaking of hot,” she said. Edward could see the determination in her eyes and the set of her jaw. She would have used anything anyone said to her advantage.

“He could still strike while warm,” Julie said to Nick.

“Yeah, but not lukewarm,” Nick countered.

“I believe I was speaking,” Amanda said. She hadn’t raised her voice, but everyone grew quiet and turned to her. “Jules,” she said, and Julie, who had just broken open another fortune cookie, let the pieces and her unread fortune drop to the table. “You know we all love you very, very much.”

“Just like a sister,” Nick said, and Amanda put a restraining hand on his arm.

“And we value you,” she continued, “more than we think you value yourself.”

“You’re a doll,” Gladys said. “Just look at that hat face.” Obviously she hadn’t been let in on Amanda and Nick’s plan.

“Listen,” Edward said, “there’s a time and a place—”

“What is this?” Julie asked.

“You’re much too good for that a-hole,” Nick said. “Sorry, Gladdy.”

“We want to support you in giving Todd up,” Amanda said.

“God, is there a camera hidden somewhere?” Julie looked over at the next table, where the people sitting there looked back at her, their chopsticks poised.

Edward signaled the waiter for the check.

Later, he called Julie at home and tried to put a good spin on Amanda and Nick’s attempt, without condoning it. “It was a little extreme,” he said. “But they really do love you and want you to be happy.” Another noble experiment.

“They want me to try speed-dating,” she said.

“Well, I certainly don’t think—” Edward began.

“And maybe I just will,” Julie said.

After they hung up, Edward took out his birding book and reread his notes for that day. He’d recorded the brilliant weather, the greening of the trees, and the avian commoners he’d spotted. About the purple martin, he’d written “Adult male, on his own.” Hah!

As for Nick’s promised surprise, he’d tucked something into Edward’s breast pocket when they were all saying good-bye in the parking lot at Tung’s. “You’ve got mail, bro,” was all Nick had said at the time.

And Edward forgot about it until he was on his way to bed that night. He went to the closet then and retrieved an envelope from his jacket pocket. It was addressed to Science Guy at the same PO box number as the letters he’d shredded a few days before. The loopy handwriting looked eerily familiar. When he pulled out the note inside, he saw that it was signed, “Yours, Ann.”