Sid #2
His wireless speakers are softly playing classical music, but—as I walk to the door—I realize I have not heard them make the
distinct notification sound when an package is delivered.
I open one side of the massive double doors.
A well-dressed older couple are standing at the door. She is holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. He is holding a bottle of
champagne.
The woman tries to be subtle, but I catch her eyes lingering on my near-naked body. I can feel my face flush.
“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry. I thought it was .”
“Oh, my goodness,” she says. “No, I’m so terribly sorry. We must have the wrong address. Joseph?”
He lifts his cell.
“Where is 318 Ocotillo Trail?” the man asks.
“This is 318 Ocotillo Trail,” I say.
“Joseph,” the woman says again, this time his name taking on a more admonishing tone. “You must have entered the address incorrectly.”
She looks at me. “I’m so sorry. We rarely come to Palm Springs.”
Her eyes drift down my towel-clad body.
“Check the address Leo gave you,” the woman adds. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Leo?” I ask. “Leo Levy?”
“Yes!” the woman exclaims. “Do you know him? Could you point us in the right direction?”
“Mom? Dad?”
Leo appears at the door holding a basket of grapefruit whose faces are as red as mine is right now.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“You told us to stop by and see you,” his mother says, brushing past me to kiss her son on the cheek. “We were in the neighborhood.”
“Beverly Hills is not in the neighborhood, Mother.” Leo laughs. “Did you forget how to use a phone?”
“You’re our son!” his father says, moving inside and gripping Leo’s shoulder in greeting. “We wanted to surprise you!”
“And we wanted to see your house in the desert,” his mom adds. “And hear about your new job.”
I stand here, motionless, as old and naked as a Roman sculpture.
“I’m so sorry, Sid,” Leo says. “This is Sid Silverstein. And, Sid, this is my mom and dad, Miriam and Joseph Levy.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, consciously trying to control any nervous babble I feel coming on. “Usually I’m dressed.”
I smile. “Which I will go do right now.”
I excuse myself and retreat to the bedroom, where I hurriedly dress.
“I’m so sorry,” I say when I return.
Miriam is still holding the flowers. She nervously brushes an invisible piece of lint off her blouse and eyes me curiously.
Finally, she pantomimes hitting herself in the head, as if she were starring in a V8 commercial, and looks toward the back
of the house.
“Silly me!” she says. “Where is the crew? Out back? You should have told us that you were filming a segment for your new ‘Gray
and Gay’ show. We are so sorry to interrupt. Do you mind if we watch?”
Miriam turns to me.
“That explains why you are in such wonderful shape for a man your age,” she continues. Miriam smacks Joseph in the arm with
the bouquet. “You should look that good!”
“I think I need to open this,” Joseph says with a laugh, taking the bottle of champagne. “Now.”
Miriam puts her arm around her son and eyes me closely.
“Let me guess: Are you training for the Senior Olympics? Leo, remember Rabbi Katz? He is training for them, too.” She smiles at me. “The rabbi is one of the world’s best over-seventy power walkers.”
“No, Mom,” Leo says, exhaling. “This is my friend, Sid, and he is not training for the Senior Olympics.”
Friend?
“My mistake,” she says. Miriam looks at the grapefruit. “Oh! Now I get it: You’re filming a segment on the impact of grapefruit
juice on statins! Now, that is an important topic for folks our age, isn’t it, Sid?”
Please let there be an earthquake.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I should get going. It was nice to meet you both.”
I beeline to the bedroom and stand there, frozen. Leo follows me in. He is no longer carrying the grapefruit, only the bottle
of champagne.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I had no idea they were coming.”
“How old are they?” I ask.
“My parents? They’re in their mid-seventies.”
“They’re younger than me?”
My voice echoes.
“Sid,” he says calmly, placing his arm around my back. “It’s okay. They will adore you. Stay for brunch. You were going to
anyway. At least I can introduce my parents to my new boyfriend.”
“You just called me your friend,” I say. Why did I say that?
“I wasn’t thinking. I was just surprised they’re standing in my kitchen.”
“God, Leo, I could babysit them.” I finally look at him. “And you.”
“They will be okay, I promise. I once dated a guy in his twenties, and all my mother could say was, ‘Does the boychick eat
brisket?’ as she got blind drunk.”
“I can’t do family drama again,” I say. “I’ve done it my whole life.”
“I promise there will be no drama,” he says. “But I can’t guarantee it won’t be awkward for a while.”
I stand frozen looking outside. Everything looks different now.
“Let’s go rip the Band-Aid off,” he continues. “Together.”
“I think I’ll take a rain check,” I say. “And I also think I need a drink.”
I grab the bottle of champagne and pop the cork.
“Do you at least want to hear some good news?” Leo asks.
I lift the bottle to my mouth and take a hearty sip.
“Shoot,” I say.
“Neither of my parents can drink grapefruit juice,” Leo says with a smile. “They’re both on statins.”