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One thing the sunny brochures about
their retirement community didn’t mention, Paul Lerner reflected, was
that you never knew for sure about the health status of your fellow
residents. Paul had been away on a
short cruise and when, on his return, he went to the tennis drop-in, he
found out that one of the regulars was having a knee replacement and
another was having a pacemaker put in. But
no one had passed on while he’d been away.
After playing for a
little over an hour, favoring his arthritic knees and hip, Paul was
packing his bag to leave when an old tennis acquaintance,
Al Brown, came up on his bicycle. “Hi,
Paul,” said Al, dismounting. “Still
playing, huh?”
“Trying to. Where’s
Ed?”
Al and Ed Peevy had
played together for as long as Paul could remember and when he saw one he
expected to see the other. Like many
other couples, including husbands and wives, Al and Ed were almost
complete opposites. Al was a large
man, florid, a little overweight, a teller of jokes and easy-going like a
big teddy bear. He was a widower but
had an extensive family, sisters and brothers, grandchildren, nephews and
nieces he was always visiting or who were always coming to visit him.
Ed was as prickly as a porcupine, small and wiry, caustic, mean
with his money, divorced and, as far as Paul knew, had no contact with
anyone else in his family. Their
common bonds were tennis, a love of sports and, maybe most importantly,
having both grown up in New York City..
“I don’t know. Don’t see him
any more. Last time we played I
called one of his shots out that he thought was in.
It was a foot over the line but he got mad at me, you know how Ed
is, and stomped off. I haven’t
seen him since. Called him a few
times but he never called back so I finally gave up”
“That’s too bad. How about you?
Are you still playing tennis?”
“Not really. Kind of stopped after
I had that tiff with Ed. Besides, my
legs are giving out.”
“I know what you mean. I started
playing pool this year. It’s a lot
easier on the knees. Ever
played?”
“Yeah, but not for a while.”
“Well, if you want to try it again, give me a call.”
Paul played once a week with his next-door neighbor and was always
on the lookout for more pool partners.
“Okay, I will.”
*
*
*
Paul had noticed that
after seeing a certain person you often met another person you associated
with him soon afterwards. So he
wasn’t too surprised that, a few days later, he ran into Ed Peevy in the
Lodge, the building which was the center of their community’s
activities, having a library, a pool room, a card room and rooms where
various clubs and committees met.
“Hi, Ed,” he said.
“How are you?”
“Can’t complain. Wouldn’t do
me any good if I did.”
“Haven’t seen you at the tennis courts lately.”
“Nah, haven’t really felt up to playing.”
“I saw Al Brown the other day. He
told me you guys had stopped playing with each other.”
“That’s right. He was
cheating.”
“Are you sure? I always thought Al
was an honest guy.”
“Well, maybe his eyes are getting bad. What
are you up to?”
“Not much. Trying to play tennis
once a week and playing pool about once a week, too.”
“Is that right? I used to be a
pretty good pool player.”
“Interested in playing some?”
“I don’t know. I might be too
old to get back into it. Maybe.”
*
*
*
A couple of weeks later, Al Brown called Paul.
“I’d like to take a crack at pool some time,” he said.
“Okay.” Paul thought:
Al wanted to play and Ed had said maybe.
His regular game with his neighbor Bud was always on a Thursday
morning. “How about Thursday?”
he asked. “Ten o’clock
good for you?”
“Sure. I’ll see you there.”
Paul hung up the phone, then dialed Ed Peevy.
“Hi, Ed. We talked about
playing pool a while back. I
have a threesome for Thursday morning and we need a fourth.
How about it?”
“I don’t know. I’d be pretty
rusty.”
“That’s all right. We’re not
exactly pool sharks.”
“Well, what the hell. I’ll give
it a try. What time?”
Paul put down the phone. He’d
probably done something stupid. When
Ed and Al saw each other they’d either get into another fight or walk
out and he’d be left looking like a fool.
But at their age it was ridiculous for two guys to end a friendship
over a tennis call.
*
*
*
At 10:15 on Thursday morning, Paul was in the Lodge pool room.
He’d introduced his neighbor Bud to Ed Peevy.
“I don’t know what happened to our fourth,” he said.
“Who’d you ask?”
“Al Brown. I thought it was a
shame you guys had a fight and thought maybe you could get back together.
I don’t know why he hasn’t shown up.”
“Guess you can’t trust him,” said Ed.
“Maybe his brain is going along with his eyes.”
Paul shrugged. “We might as well
start. We can play cut-throat.”
They played for an hour and Ed, despite his rustiness, was pretty
good. When they broke up, Ed said he
was ready to do it again.
After lunch, Paul called Al
Brown. A woman’s voice answered.
She said she was Al’s sister and he’d been taken to the
hospital with a heart attack two days before and had passed away.
His memorial service was that weekend.
*
*
*
A good part of the tennis club and many others in the retirement community
came to Al’s memorial service. Al’s
extensive family was there and they all spoke about what a good person
he’d been. Paul had
expected Ed Peevey to be there, but, looking over the crowd, he didn’t
see him. Over the next few weeks,
during which as usual he played pool once a week, he didn’t hear from
Ed. Then, after he’d pretty much
forgotten about Ed aside from an occasional idle thought about what had
happened to him, his phone rang one afternoon and it was Ed.
“Ed! Where’ve you been.”
“Well, I went back to New York. Saw
my son.We had a fight years back and hadn’t seem him since.”
“Did you get back together?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t easy, but hell,
I told him I wasn’t getting any younger and I didn’t want to go to my
grave not being reconciled with my own son.”
“That’s good.”
“Look, you still playing pool? I’d
like to take another crack at it.”
“Sure. Thursday at
ten.”
“Okay.” There was a pause and I
thought Ed was about to say something more.
I heard him clearing his throat, but he just said, “I’ll be
there” and hung up.
*
*
*
A month or so later
Paul had another call, this one from Al’s sister, the one who’d told
him of his passing and whom he’d met at the memorial service.
She wanted to know if Paul knew somebody named Ed Peevy.
She’d received a card from him saying just “I’m sorry” with
a $500 check made out to the American Heart Association.
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