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Then he heard his father’s voice: “Oh stop it, Ellen, I’m fine.”
Relief flooded Myron’s veins.
“You were the one who insisted I call him right away, Al.”
“I didn’t want him to worry.”
“How would he worry? He didn’t even know you were hurt.”
“Mom,” Myron said, fighting to keep his tone even, “just tell me what happened.”
“Cousin Norman, that’s Moira’s boy. You remember Cousin Norman, right? We went to see him in Where’s Charley? when he was in seventh grade?”
“Mom.”
“Anyway, Cousin Norman is driving us to urgi-care, but your father is fine. Seriously, Myron, who breaks their nose playing pickleball? You know that new carpet in our living room? The one we bought at… Al, what was the name of that place?”
“I don’t know. Who cares?”
“I care. It was that home store off Central Avenue. Myron, you know the one. It’s next to that diner you took us to lunch at last time in February.”
“Ellen.”
“It begins with a D. Demarco Home and Carpeting? Deangelo? Anyway, that carpet. It’s covered in blood now. Like our living room is that shower scene in Psycho. Who comes back home when they’re still bleeding and, what, takes a nap on the floor?”
“I didn’t know I was still bleeding,” his father said.
“How could you not know? Anyway, he’s playing pickleball. Then someone—your father won’t tell me who—”
“Because it doesn’t matter!”
“—smashed the ball at your father. Your father, being a regular Jim Thorpe, used his nose instead of a paddle.”
Myron said, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to catch the next flight down.”
“No, you’re not.”
That was his father.
“I’m fine,” Dad said. “You have work. You’re busy.”
“Oh, right,” Mom said. “We read about Greg Downing getting arrested. Did he really kill that pretty woman and her son?”
“Don’t ask him that, Ellen. You’re a lawyer. You should know better.”
“What, I can’t ask him mother-to-son?”
“Myron,” Dad said, “don’t come down.”
The voice left no room for argument. Myron got it. Dad didn’t want Mom to worry. If Myron flew down, Mom would know something was seriously wrong.
“Who were you playing with, Dad?”
Mom took that one. “He was playing with his new friend Allen. You remember him, Myron? He’s that big fan of yours.”
