16
Stephen’s Sister Jane

     Stephen turned the corner of the restaurant and suddenly came face to face with his sister Jane.
      “Ashley said you were here, but I didn’t believe her.”
      “Yes, I’m here, Jane. In the flesh.”
      “Let’s take a walk.”
      “I’ve got to go get Dad out of the bathroom.”
      “I already did. He’s with Ma at the table.”
      “Is he all right?”
      “No, he’s not, Stephen. Can we go for a walk?”
      “Sure.”
      Jane led the way and Stephen followed her along the side of the restaurant down the path where he had just made his phone call. Once they reached the beach, Jane said, “Wait a minute,” and then grabbed Stephen’s shoulder and leaned on him as she lifted each leg and removed her shoes. Holding the black sandals by their straps, she then said, “Come on,” and headed toward the water.
      Stephen dutifully followed. She’s walking a little stiff. Doesn’t she have some kind of back problem? There’s something on her mind. It’s really warm for December.
      Jane talked as they walked. “Is it true you’re friends with the guys in Steely Dan?” she asked.
      “Yeah, I know them.”
      “My favorite rock voice is Donald Fagen’s. Do you ever get together with them?”
      Stephen shook his head and said, “Nah. I’ve been too busy lately for much socializing.”
      Jane snickered and said, “Yeah. We know.”
      “Jane, don’t start.”
      Jane stopped and faced her brother. “Did you hear about Joyce?”
      Her daughter. “What about her?”
      “She found a producer for her play.”
      “Her play? She’s a playwright? There’s another writer in the family?”
      “It’s only an off-off-Broadway venue, but at least it’ll be performed.”
      “What’s it called?”
      “Feeding the Birds. She’s directing, too.”
      “What’s it about?”
      Jane looked off into the distance and didn’t respond at first. She gazed out at the water and Stephen watched as she breathed in a deep draught of sea air.
      “What’s it about, Jane?”
      Jane turned and looked Stephen in the eyes. “It’s about living with a mother with MS.”
      Stephen’s mind reeled. First Ashley. And James’s kid. And there may be something wrong with my father. And now I find out my sister has MS.
      “Jesus Christ, Jane. When were you diagnosed? How far along is it?”
      Jane chuckled and said, “I’m okay, Stephen. Really. I’ve got lots of good years ahead of me. The doctors guarantee it. But there are days when I’m really in a lot of pain and it’s difficult for me to get around. I’ll say this. Thank God for Joycie on those days.”
      Stephen didn’t say anything at first, because the next thing he should have said was, “Why didn’t you call me?” but he dared not even mention the notion of her contacting him. He knew what her answer would be, and he also knew it would probably infuriate her if he asked the question. Instead he said, “Is there anything I can do?”
      Swinging her sandals, Jane started walking toward the water again, and said, “Coming to opening night would be nice. Joyce would love for her uncle to be there. She’s in New York right now in rehearsals. That’s why she couldn’t make it here today.”
      Stephen walked alongside his sister and said, “Count on it.”
      Jane’s face lit up with joy. “Really?”
      “Absolutely.”
      Jane smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” Her smile faded. “Can I ask you something, Stephen?”
      “Sure. Anything.”
      “What’s with Oregon?”
      “What do you mean?”
      “I mean, what’s so special about where you live that you stay out there?”
      Stephen pondered a moment before he answered. I never asked myself that question. Everything kind of took on a life of its own as the company grew, and the next thing I knew, I was on a mountain in Oregon.
      But before he could answer, Jane said, “And how’d you end up out there in the first place?”
      Stephen looked to his right and saw that there was a bench with a wooden slat seat and wrought iron arms set adjacent to the flower-lined path. He gestured to Jane that they sit down and she nodded. She probably shouldn’t be on her feet all this time.
      They sat down and Stephen said, “Don’t you remember about ten years ago I got that job with Red Ranger Express? As an I.T. guy? A programmer? It was double what I was making at the gas company, but the job was in Oregon. I was single, and didn’t own a house, so I took it. That’s how I ended up in Oregon. Orchid came out of some freelance coding work I was doing. I decided to go out on my own and the company did well right out of the gate.”
      “Because of Zephyr?”
      “Stephen shook his head. “Oh, no. That didn’t come until later. The company got on its feet from a software program I wrote for a medical billing company.”
      Jane nodded and said, “Oh. I see. Thanks. I was never clear on the timeline. But didn’t you miss here?”
      I never asked myself that one either, Stephen thought bemusedly. That’s a very good question, sister of mine.
      Stephen gazed out at the water and said, “Do you know where I got the name Orchid, Jane?”
      She shook her head.
      “Around the time I decided to start my own company, I was reading a novel and there was a scene in it where the main character dies and goes to heaven. And the moment he came to awareness on the other side, the first thing that went through this guy’s new, elevated consciousness was, “Who would have ever thought there’d be orchids’?”
      “That’s beautiful.”
      Stephen nodded. “Yeah. And the name Orchid just leaped into my head as the perfect name for the company. I liked the idea that there would be orchids in heaven, y’know? And the image has stayed with me all these years, too.”
      Jane’s hair fluttered about her face in the gentle wind. “It’s a nice thought.”
      Stephen popped an orange Tic-Tac and offered the box to Jane. She shook her head. “So what do you know about Dad, Jane?”
      She looked at Stephen, and then looked back out at the sea. “I think he’s got colon cancer, Stephen.”
      “Yeah, me, too.”
      “Didn’t Grandpa die of that?”
      “Yup.”
      “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” She again looked at Stephen. “So what are we gonna do?”
      She said “we.” She asked what are we going to do. She included me.
      “You know he won’t listen to us, Jane.”
      “Do you think Mom might get though to him?” Jane asked.
      “No, I don’t. Unfortunately. I knew a guy when I was working for Red Ranger. He was about dad’s age. Benny. For two years straight, he urinated pure red. He once told me that he would never use a urinal in a public men’s room because he was embarrassed to let anyone see a bright red stream hitting the back of the fixture. I remember asking him if he was actually afraid that someone might call 911 if they saw him pissing blood like that. He never really answered, but I’m sure that fear was probably part of it. So he always used a stall.”
      “What happened to him?”
      “Benny? Eventually he got so weak from the blood loss that his wife managed to convince him to go to a doctor. They diagnosed him with kidney cancer. And by the time he finally saw someone, it had spread to his bladder and his liver. And it was on its way to his stomach.”
      “Did he have treatment?”
      Stephen gazed out at the sea and squinted against the myriad kaleidoscopic sparkles reflecting off the water. “Yeah. But he did it more to keep his wife happy than anything else. Benny knew he was doomed. He died three months later. But that was the way he chose to deal with it. Believe me, he enjoyed himself those two years he was bleeding like that. They traveled, went to restaurants. They even went on an Alaskan cruise. I saw the pictures. He preferred spending his time enjoying himself instead of having treatment ... and he was more than willing to accept the consequences.”
      Jane grasped Stephen’s hand and he turned to look at her. “I do not want that to happen to dad, Stephen. Do you understand? I don’t care how stubborn he is. I don’t want him to fatalistically believe that because he’s bleeding, he’s doomed. It could be a polyp, for heaven’s sake, and there’s no reason why he should assume the worst without knowing the truth.”
      Stephen nodded and squeezed his sister’s hand, but didn’t respond. If Dad wants to pull a Benny, that’s his choice, isn’t it? But Jane won’t accept that. And neither will Danielle, I’ll bet. I know Ma doesn’t have the will to stand up to him, so she won’t say anything. Andy and Tommy may be able to help. But it’s dad’s choice. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.” Stephen then looked at his watch and said, “I’ve still got a bunch of relatives to see, Jane.”
      Jane smiled and said, “You go ahead. I think I’ll sit here a little while longer. It’s so beautiful.”
      Stephen nodded and said, “It is. Okay, I’ll catch up with you before I leave.” He then kissed her on the cheek and said, “I’ll have someone call you with a mailing address to send me those tickets.”
      “You’re really going to come?”
      “You bet I am.”
      Jane smiled and said, “Thanks, Stephen. You’ll make Joyce very happy.”
      Stephen nodded, stood up, gazed out at the water for a moment, and then started walking up the path.

17
Stephen’s Aunt Edith

     Stephen stood at the main entrance of the restaurant and let his eyes move from table to table, looking at the members of his family.
      “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
      Stephen turned to see his Aunt Edith standing next to him. Aunt Edith was in her eighties, but looked twenty years younger. Stephen kissed her on the cheek and said, “Hi, Aunt Edith.” Stephen could smell Chanel No. 5. She’s still wearing it. The scent gave Stephen a sudden Proustian rush of memories of playing in Aunt Edith’s finished basement with his cousins Craig and Donna. Didn’t Woody Allen once make a joke about a cologne called Proustian Rush?
      “Hi yourself, Stevie,” she replied, with a quick squeeze of his cheek. “Aren’t they? Beautiful?”
      Stephen chuckled and said, “Depends on your definition of beautiful, Auntie.”
      Aunt Edith turned to face Stephen and, with steel in her voice, said, “No, it does not, nephew. No, it absolutely does not depend on my definition of beautiful.” Jesus. Calm down, Auntie. “I don’t care what they look like,” she continued. “Every person in this room is a part of you. A beautiful part. Don’t you understand that?”
      “Of course I do, Aunt Edith. I’m sorry. I was just making a joke,” Stephen replied.
      Aunt Edith gave him a look that said, That’s your idea of a joke?, but she actually said, “Did you see Uncle Jerry?”
      “Not yet.”
      “Well, what are you waiting for?” she replied with a smirk. “None of us are getting any younger, y’know. Including you, my handsome nephew.”
      Stephen laughed and said, “That is the truth, Auntie. That is the absolute truth.”
      Aunt Edith grimaced in pain and started walking slowly toward a red settee set against the wall beneath an ornate mirror. “What’s the matter, Aunt Edith?”
      “Nothing, honey. Just my lumbago. I just need to take a load off for a bit.” Stephen held her arm and led her to the settee. She sat down with an exaggerated exhaled sigh. “Ah. That’s better. See? I told you we weren’t getting any younger.”
      “And I said that was the truth, Auntie. And it certainly is.” Stephen snagged a passing waiter and said, “Could I get a glass of ice water for my aunt, please?”
      Aunt Edith looked up at Stephen and he suddenly felt like she was looking inside him. “Speaking of the truth, honey,” she began, “do you always tell the truth?”
      “Well, I ... I mean ...”
      Aunt Edith smiled and said, “It’s all right. I have my answer. We all fib now and them.”
      “I try to be honest, Aunt Edith. I do.”
      Aunt Edith dabbed her neck with a tissue and said, “Oh, yeah? What was the last lie you told, Stevie? And be honest.”
      Stephen thought back over the past few weeks. “I lied to a woman I was seeing because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
      “Was it that movie star person I read about in one of the tabloids?”
      Stephen laughed and said, “You shouldn’t read that stuff, Auntie. It’s all made up for the most part.”
      “Was it her? What was her name? Kristen?”
      “Kirsten. And no, it wasn’t her.”
      “Who was it, then? Was it somebody famous? You’re famous, aren’t you?”
      “I’m just a guy with a computer software company, Aunt Edith. And no, it wasn’t someone famous.”
      “So why’d you lie to her, Stevie?”
      “Because I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
      “Why not?”
      That’s a good question. Why didn’t I want to see Kirsten anymore? “She wanted more than I could give her, Auntie.”
      Aunt Edith burst out laughing and said, “With all your money, Stevie? What in the world could she have possibly wanted that you couldn’t give her?”
      Stephen laughed and said, “I meant personally, Aunt Edith. She wanted to move the relationship to the next level ... exclusivity, possibly engagement ... and I just didn’t want that. Not with her anyway. Maybe someday I’ll get married and have kids ...”
      “They’ll be some rich kids, Stevie.”
      Stephen ignored her comment and continued, saying, “ ... but right now I’m busy with the company and I don’t want anything serious.”
      What am I doing discussing my love life with my eightysomething aunt?
      The waiter arrived and handed Stephen the ice water and a napkin. He placed it on the table next to the settee.
      “I understand. You’re busy with work. And from what I read, you’ve got your hands full with that company of yours.”
      “I have a lot of help, Auntie, but it still keeps me very busy”
      Aunt Edith sipped her ice water and then reached into her purse and pulled out a little round pill holder, popped it open, reached in, pulled out one tiny pill, and placed it under her tongue.
      To Stephen’s quizzical expression, Aunt Edith said, “Nitroglycerin. For my angina.”
      “Are you all right, Aunt Edith?”
      “Yes, I’m fine.” She took another sip of her water and then looked Stephen in the eyes and said, “Are you happy, Stevie?”
      Another good question. “I don’t know, Auntie. I think so. Most of the time.”
      Aunt Edith looked at Stephen steadily for a moment and then said, “You know how I’ve pictured you over the past few years, Stevie?”
      Stephen shook his head.
      “As an empty frame.”
      “What do you mean, Aunt Edith?” Stephen asked softly.
      “I imagined the Santamaria family--our family—as a big art gallery. And each member of the family was a painting hung on the wall ... my brother Nick was a Klimt. Your cousin Joyce, a Dali. Your brother Andy, a Hopper. My son Craig, a Raphael.”
      Stephen shifted his stance self-consciously and said, “And I was an empty frame.”
      Aunt Edith nodded. “Amidst all those beautiful, wonderful works of art, one solitary frame hung empty on the wall, Stephen.”
      Stephen lowered his head and said, “I don’t know what to say, Aunt Edith. Except I’m sorry.”
      Aunt Edith reached up and grabbed Stephen’s hand. “Ah, don’t fret over it, Stevie. I’m just a babbling old lady. Now, do me a favor will you? Go see your Uncle Jerry, okay?”
      Stephen leaned down and kissed Aunt Edith on the cheek. “All right. Are you going to be okay?”
      Aunt Edith smiled and said, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’m gonna live to be a hundred and fifty.”
      Stephen laughed and said, “I believe you. You sure you don’t need anything?”
      “Go. Go see Uncle Jerry. Donna will be back any minute. She had to make a phone call. You kids today ... you can’t go two hours without calling someone. What did you all do before there were cell phones?”
      Stephen smiled and said, “I know what you mean, Aunt Edith. I’ll go see Uncle Jerry, and I promise to turn off my phone.”
      Aunt Edith reached up and squeezed Stephen’s cheek. Ow. That one hurt. “You’re a good boy. And so handsome. Now go.”
      Stephen nodded and started walking into the dining room. An empty frame. Is that what I am?

18
Stephen’s Uncle Jerry

     Stephen found Uncle Jerry standing at the picture window staring out at the sea, an unlit cigar in his hand. Ashley’s table on the opposite end of the window was empty.
      Stephen walked up to his uncle, placed his arm around his shoulder, and said, “Need a light?”
      Uncle Jerry turned and his face lit up when he saw Stephen. “Stephen John! Where have you been, nephew? I heard you were here, but I didn’t believe it.”
      “Yeah, I’m here, Unk. How you doing?”
      Uncle Jerry smiled and said, “How’m I doing? How much time you got?”
      Stephen hugged Uncle Jerry to him with one hand around his neck and said, “All the time you need. Let’s sit.”
      The two men pulled out chairs from a nearby table and sat down. Stephen pointed to the cigar. “You still on the stogies, Unk?”
      Uncle Jerry looked at the cigar in his hand and Stephen saw a forlorn look flash across his face. “I wish, Stephen. Don’t I wish. I had to give them up about a year ago. It was the dentist who made me do it, too, if you can believe it. Said he didn’t like the look of something on my gum. Said it could have been a pre something or other. What could I do? I didn’t believe the cigars had anything to do with a white mark on my gum, but the minute your aunt and cousin heard what he had said, that was it. It was either quit, or live out the rest of my years in one of the punishment camps of the Gulag. I would have had no peace, Stephen. None whatsoever. So I quit. But I can’t let go. So I still buy them, and I still carry one.”
      “Do you put them in your mouth?”
      Uncle Jerry smiled. Oh, yeah. Your aunt complains even about that, but I don’t care. I put my foot down.”
      Stephen nodded and said, “You’re my hero.”
      Uncle Jerry leaned in closer and said softly, “And sometimes I even light one of the sumbitches!”
      “Uncle Jer! Do you really?”
      “Hell, yeah. I don’t care anymore. How many extra years am I gonna get by not smoking cigars, huh? I’m just doing it to make my wife and daughter happy.” He thought a moment and then said, “That’s not actually true. I do it to keep them quiet. I don’t really care if they’re happy or not.”
      Stephen saw a look of resigned disgust on Uncle Jerry’s face. “What do you mean, Unk?”
      Uncle Jerry gave Stephen a thin smile and said, “Don’t get me wrong, Stevie. I want them to be happy. I do. It’s just that it pissed me off to no end.”
      “That they made you quit.”
      “Right. I was an officer in the service, with hundreds of men taking my orders, but as a civilian, two women outrank me. And they don’t care if I’m happy, y’know?”
      Stephen nodded and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes we do things we don’t ...” Stephen stopped in mid-sentence. I’m the last person who should be talking about doing things for people we love. My track record’s not so great in that area.
      Uncle Jerry was still sharp as a tack, even in his mid-eighties. He caught Stephen’s hesitation and said, “That’s true. Sometimes it comes with the territory.”
      Change the subject. “So tell me, Unk. What have you been up to?”
      Uncle Jerry grinned and jammed his unlit cigar between his teeth. “I volunteer.”
      “Really?” Stephen exclaimed. “No kidding? That’s great. Where do you volunteer?”
      “The VA Hospital. In West Haven.”
      That’s right. Of course. Uncle Jerry’s a vet. World War II, I think. Navy. I remember seeing pictures of him in his uniform when he was a young buck.
      “You were in the Navy, right?”
      Uncle Jerry snapped Stephen a salute and said, “Lieutenant Commander Girolamo Santamaria. At your service, sir.”
      “You still got it, Unk. What do you do at the VA?”
      “Oh, this and that. That and this. I push wheelchairs, show people where they need to go. Sometimes I read to guys who are bedridden. That kinda stuff.”
      Stephen smiled as he pictured his avuncular uncle wending his way through the halls of the Veterans’ Hospital, making beeping horn noises, and calling nurses “sweetie,” and orderlies “chief.” “That’s great. Good for you.”
      “Well, I’ll tell ya, Stevie, they can use all the help they can get. It gets harder every year. More and more guys are gettin’ hurt and gettin’ old, and more and more money is gettin’ cut from their budget. They can’t afford to pay somebody to do what I do, and if I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. The volunteers, I mean. If the volunteers weren’t there to lend a hand, it’d be a lot harder for those guys in there. I’m lucky. I made it out in one piece. And I’m still pretty healthy, knock wood.” Uncle Jerry rapped the top of his head with his own knuckles. “But a lot of guys weren’t so lucky. And a lot of ‘em don’t have anything but Social Security, and Medicaid, and the VA. Some guys lost arms and legs in the war. Arms and legs, Stevie. Think about that. Having your arm blown off. So I try to help out as best I can.”
      “Well, I think that’s a great thing that you’re doing. And I want to help. When I get back I’ll have somebody give you a call, Unk. Maybe I can make things a little easier for those guys. Vets deserve it.”
      Uncle Jerry’s eyes welled up and he reached out and squeezed Stephen’s hand. “Thanks, Stevie. I know they’ll appreciate it.” Uncle Jerry than reached into his back pants pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, unfolded it, and blew his nose, making a sound that Stephen thought sounded more like a car alarm than a routine nose-clearing.
      “I’m happy to help. And I’m very proud of you, Unk, for doing what you do.”
      Uncle Jerry chuckled, put his handkerchief back in his pocket, and said, “I’d do it no matter what, Stevie. The VA was there for me when I got out of the Navy, and also when I needed a little help later on getting my ulcer under control. I never forgot how good they were to me. But I won’t lie. I also benefit from doing what I do, Stevie.”
      Stephen nodded with an understanding look on his face and said, “You feel fulfilled by helping out, right?”
      Uncle Jerry laughed out loud and said, “Of course! But there’s another perk I really enjoy.” He leaned forward, looked around to see if anyone was listening, and stage-whispered, “It gets me out of the house! I may like that part the best!”
      Stephen looked at his uncle’s deadpan expression and the two men suddenly burst out laughing. And this time heads did turn to look at them. After their laughing fit subsided, Uncle Jerry looked at Stephen and said, “You look just like my brother Dom when he was a young man. How old are you now?”
      “Thirty-three.”
      “And you made all that money in just the past few years.”
      Stephen nodded and said, “Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? And I never saw it coming, Unk. It seems like all of a sudden, I was rich. It’s like I went to sleep one night and woke up a billionaire. I still pinch myself sometimes.”
      Uncle Jerry chewed on his cigar and said, “What’s it like, Stevie? Y’know ... having all that money. You probably earn more interest in an hour than I made my whole damn life. What’s it like knowing you never have to work another day?”
      Stephen looked around the room and saw his cousins, his aunts and uncles, his parents, his brothers and sisters, and the realization suddenly struck him that, right now, he was so wealthy that everyone in the room—everyone—would not have had to work another day ... if he had given any thought at all to his family in the past five years. But where’s it written that I have to take care of everyone in my family just because I can? Was Uncle Dave right? Am I a selfish, self-centered creep? If I was in their places, how would I react to a family member that behaved the way I have over the past half a decade? Would I be as warm and open to him as so many of my relatives have been to me today?
      “It’s ... comforting, I guess, Unk. But after my income reached the point where earning a living was no longer an issue, I stopped thinking about it. The money, I mean. Suddenly, all I focused on was work and making my products better. Isn’t that ironic? Once I didn’t have to work anymore, I started working even harder.”
      Uncle Jerry removed the cigar from his mouth, reached up and picked a piece of tobacco off his tongue, and said, “I’m not surprised. I remember when you were in the fourth grade and you had to make a cardboard crown for a statue of the Virgin Mary. You spent four days working on that crown, Stevie. You drew it out, and then you cut it, and then you glued it all together.  And then you painted it and you even put some glitter on it.” He put the cigar back in his mouth. “That was one good-looking crown.”
      Oh, my God. I remember that cardboard crown. And he’s right. I did put glitter on it. But I haven’t thought about that for over twenty years. And he’s talking about it like it was yesterday.
      Uncle Jerry placed his hand on Stephen’s shoulder and said, “I want you to do something for me, Stevie.”
      Stephen nodded and said, “Of course, Unk. Anything.”
      “I want you to say a few words later ... during dessert. I know you’ve been making the rounds and talking to people, but I think it’d be great if everyone could hear from you at the same time. It’s been a long time.” Uncle Jerry looked steadily at Stephen and said, “I think you owe us all at least that.|
      Stephen nodded and said, “You’re right. I do. And I will.”
      Uncle Jerry squeezed Stephen’s shoulder and said, “Great. I’ll introduce you. That okay with you?”
      “It’s fine. Just let me know when.”
      Uncle Jerry looked around and saw that people were still eating from the buffet. “In a little while. The main course was the buffet, but your cousin Connie arranged it so that coffee and dessert would be served by waiters at the tables. I’ll let you know when.”
      Stephen nodded. Uncle Jerry leaned over and kissed Stephen on the cheek and said, “It’s good to see you, kid.” He then stood up and said, “Bathroom break.”
      And then Uncle Jerry left Stephen seated alone at a table from which he could see the slow parade of waves reaching the shore and then retreating.

                                                 In the final installment...
Stephen Speaks To His Family • Home • RSVP • The Washington Tavern & Restaurant • Epilogue