They May Not Mean To, but They Do: A Novel by Cathleen Schine Page B

see my money?”
    He gave another little snort of a laugh, just like the last one, then said, “You rob a bank?” He looked at the eyeglass case. “You wear eyeglasses now?” Then he began to sing: “ My eyes are dim, I cannot see, I have no-ot brought my specs with me-ee-ee…”
    “Grandpa, who’s this?” Ruby held up a black-and-white photograph of a long-eared dog standing in front of a screened-in porch. She handed it to Aaron.
    “That’s Prince,” he said. “That’s my dog Prince.”
    He brought the photo closer to his face. Ruby thought he was looking at it more closely, but no, he did not bring it to his eyes. He whispered, “Prince. My dog Prince,” brought the photograph to his lips, and kissed it.
    *   *   *
    When Freddie arrived, Aaron recognized her, but he did not seem to remember her name.
    “Look who the wind blew in!” he said.
    Molly’s son, Ben, got there a few hours later.
    “Look who the cat dragged in!” Aaron said.
    Ben did look a little like a cat at that moment, a scraggly alley cat. He had gotten a ride from New Orleans with a friend and they’d driven all night. His hair, not very clean, stuck up at unexpected angles in unexpected places. His clothes were wrinkled, even his parka. He had grown a beard, which disconcerted Molly for a moment. She worried about Ben, down there in a violent city with a job that kept him out so late. She worried that he drank too much, that he wasn’t doing anything with his life. Sometimes she welcomed the concern about her parents as a distraction from her concern about Ben.
    “You look handsome,” she said. Ben Harkavy, bartender and handsome alley cat, the kind that rubs against your leg, then hops a fence and disappears.
    Ruby and Cora, who loved Ben in a way that reminded Molly of her feelings for her father when she was a child, a reverential physical ownership, threw themselves at him for a double piggyback. Molly gently pushed them aside so she could give Ben a hug. Her arms around his neck, her face on his coat still cold from the outside air, she felt herself relax. Ben was a good boy. Ben was healthy and dear and safe in her arms. And with Ben here as well as Freddie, at last she would be able to make some order in her parents’ lives.
    “The cavalry,” she murmured. “Thank god.”
    “You miss me?”
    “God, yes.”
    “Don’t make him feel guilty,” Joy said. “Your mother doesn’t like it that I miss her.”
    Ben hugged his grandmother and said, “You can miss me, too. Instead of missing her. I don’t mind.”
    “I miss you the most,” Cora said.
    “You’re just his cousin,” said Ruby.
    “So are you.”
    Ben squatted down and pulled them to him, one in each arm, and the apartment was boisterous and gay. Coco and Molly had used the dessert plates for the salad, but Joy found she didn’t mind. The children were playing a game that involved pulling the tablecloth as hard as they could, but she didn’t mind that either.
    “To Mom and Dad,” Daniel said, raising a glass of wine.
    Aaron gave a bloodcurdling howl.
    “Grandpa,” said Ben, jumping up, kneeling beside Aaron. “What happened?”
    “What are you talking about?” Aaron said.
    Molly saw Ben go white. He had not seen too much of his grandfather in the last year, and when he had, Aaron had always managed to simulate conversation.
    “Grandpa forgets sometimes,” Ruby whispered to Ben.
    He smiled at her. “Thank you.” But he was obviously shaken.
    “What’s going on?” Aaron said, looking around with wild eyes. He swatted Ben away with his enormous white hand. “Off your knees, soldier.” He caught Molly’s eye. “I’m fine,” he said. Then that awful sound, again.
    By the time Molly brought out the apple pie, the sound had taken on an alarming volume and pitch.
    “What do we do?” Molly said.
    “Joy, what should we do?” Coco said.
    “Mom, has he ever done this before?” said Daniel.
    “Aaron,” Freddie was saying, “where does