The Dismantling by Brian Deleeuw

about that.”
    â€œYour family, they still live in the city?”
Stop it
, he told himself.
    â€œMy mother’s dead. My father lives in some shithole in the Valley, rounding up illegal immigrants to mow people’s lawns. Prune their topiaries. It’s the best job he’s ever had.” Her tone was more ironic than hostile, as though her father were too absurd a subject to merit actual disdain. “I don’t really talk to him. I guess you could say we’re estranged.”
    Their breakfast arrived, and Simon told himself that he wasn’t really interested in her background, that he was just doing his due diligence for Health Solutions. Maria demolished her omelet in less than two minutes. Outside on Madison Avenue, a Pomeranian lifted its leg and pissed on the wheel of a parked Mercedes. Simon sipped his cup of coffee, which cost five dollars and was excellent.
    â€œHow many people know you’re here?” he asked.
    â€œHow many know I’m not in LA? Five or six. That includes my boss at the bar. He thinks I’m visiting my aunt in Bakersfield. How many know I’m in New York? Two. My son and my sister, who’s looking after him while I’m gone. Not that my son has any idea what New York even is. How many know what I’m
doing
here? None.”
    â€œYour son.” Simon tried not to sound surprised. She was so young, and the medical records she’d supplied hadn’t mentioned anything about her having given birth, although it wasn’t a certainty that they would.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œHow old is he?”
    â€œHe’s three.”
    â€œAnd what’s his name?”
    â€œGabriel.” She paused. “You want to know why I’m doing this, right?”
    â€œYou don’t have to tell me that.”
    â€œBut that doesn’t mean you don’t want to know.”
    â€œWhat’s important is that the team at the hospital thinks
they
know. It doesn’t matter what I think.”
    â€œAnd you have a story for them?”
    â€œPart of one, yes.”
    He told her about Lenny: first, the extent of his illness, and then the outlines of his—and her—fictional extended family.
    â€œSecond cousins? Couldn’t they just look that up and see it’s not true?”
    â€œThat’s not as easy as you might think. But don’t give them a reason to and they won’t even try.”
    She picked at her toast, nodding. “Well, in case you want to know anyway, I have a job pouring drinks for cheapskate alcoholics and a son whose father wants nothing to do with him. It’s not any more complicated than that.”
    He tried a joke: “You also have a dear cousin in need.”
    Her face split into a smile. “And I’ve been possessed by the spirit of giving.” Her teeth were white and straight except for the top right incisor, which was crooked and marbled gray, like an old gravestone. She closed her mouth. He wanted to ask her to keep smiling, so he could see the tooth again. He liked how its irregularity reshaped the rest of her face, the flaw making the whole more appealing.
    â€œThis guy,” she said. “Leonard.”
    â€œLenny, yeah.”
    â€œLenny. How long would he have left? Without me.”
    â€œA year. Maybe less. And it wouldn’t be a good year.”
    She considered this for a moment, although he couldn’t quite parse her reaction. “So what’s next?”
    â€œTomorrow morning you’ll go to the hospital to meet the transplant coordinator and surgical team, and they’ll take another look at your liver. Thursday we’ll prep together some more. Friday you’ll meet Lenny. And then Saturday’s your psychosocial exam.”
    â€œThe screening interview.”
    â€œYeah. That’s when they make sure you’re not getting paid, among other things. I’ll tell you what to say. I’ll show you the exact questions