Page 30 of Delusional

My grandfather reclined in his favorite chair with a glass of pinot noir sloshing dangerously in his right hand. Given Mary Catherine’s pregnancy, she’d been on a strict no-alcohol policy for months now. Which meant I was too. I figured that the least I could do was support her, so the two of us drank club sodas with a splash of lemonade. Refreshing, if slightly dull, though I tried my best to make them look like fancy cocktails by serving them in nice glasses with slices of lemon.

The best part about this leisurely evening was watching all ten of the kids pitching in to decorate our Christmas tree. The three oldest—Juliana, Brian, and Jane—acted more as supervisors, directing the placement of certain delicate ornaments for the younger kids to hang on the tree, as I used to do for them too.

There was a certain symmetry to the whole process. Like how Brian gave each of the younger kids a little decorated wooden train car and had them line the engine and all the cars up to look like a train going uphill. It was something my late wife, Maeve, always did. Seeing the pattern brought a tear to my eye, which I hid from everyone for no particular reason.

The kids were totally engaged in decorating the tree. My grandfather was equally absorbed in the process. Mary Catherine used the quiet moment to say, “Juliana told me about the incident in Queens this morning. She said the man was really upset.”

“He already made a complaint. I’m waiting for the shoe to drop later this week.”

“None of Rob’s roommates will get in trouble, will they?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Mary Catherine took a swig of her drink.

Seamus called from his comfortable perch, “You like that plain soda and lemonade?”

Mary Catherine raised her glass. “It’s lovely.”

My grandfather shook his head. “No Irish lass should admit to liking a drink so bland.”

Mary Catherine came right back at him. “The baby seems to like it.” She patted her belly and shot a little look at my grandfather. He accepted it graciously.

Juliana kept checking her phone. When the phone call she was apparently expecting finally came in, she walked to the kitchen to take it. I couldn’t hear her speaking, but she sounded pleased. A few minutes later Juliana wandered back into the living room.

Mary Catherine asked, “Everything all right?”

“Yeah. One of Rob’s roommates, Katie, was able to get a visa that allows her to work. She’s got a job interview coming up and was wondering if I could go with her.”

I said, “That’s great. But how did she get the visa? That usually takes months to get approved, and her immigration case is still ongoing.”

“Katie has some family in the US who were able to pull strings. I’m not quite sure how they managed it, but she’s really excited to start building back her life and independence.”

Mary Catherine said, “How lucky for Katie! Do all of Rob’s Pakistani roommates use American names now?”

“No, Sabiha, Ayesha, and Fareeha all prefer their Urdu names, but Sylvia and Katie chose new names for themselves.”

“I wish I could’ve picked my own name,” my wife mused.

“What’s wrong with Mary Catherine?”

“I’d change it to Trudy.”

My grandfather said, “What’s the story behind that? Were you close to someone named Trudy?”

Mary Catherine shook her head and said, “No, I just like the name.”

I had a feeling that my pregnant wife and I would be having many more conversations about names before our new baby’s arrival.

CHAPTER 35

THE WINTER EVENINGS got dark and quiet quickly in the city. Not as quiet as Tom Owens’s cabin upstate, but New York City rarely experienced quiet like that. After living in the wilderness, even a calm neighborhood like the one where their Airbnb was in Yonkers could make him feel like the world was closing in.

The trip the four of them took down to Manhattan from Yonkers served several purposes. Most importantly, it got Owens out of the house for a little while. The sea of giant office buildings and towers that stretched high into the sky didn’t exactly replicate the feeling of being free in the wilderness. But it was better than listening to Pry eat stale corn chips directly from the bag.

They walked past the same building three times. First the entire group. Then just Owens and Ellis. Then Owens and Kimmy. Pry made it clear he’d seen enough on his first walk-by and already knew everything he needed to know about the building. He stood on the corner smoking one of his little Swisher Sweets cigars with the white plastic tips.

Ellis looked at Owens and asked, “Tell me again what makes this a good target?”