Norman leaned forward, the fraying old blanket spilling off his chest. “Fanny Farmer Candies?!”
“Well, they’re Fannie May, now. Or since about ten years ago. I think they bought them out. You like the fruit slices, right?”
“No, ma’am, I do not like the fruit slices. I adore the fruit slices. The orange ones, above all else. How in God’s name did you know?” He reached into the box with his long, bony fingers, picked out an orange, half-moon-shaped jellied candy, and held it up, regarding it with surprise and delight.
“Scott knew. He went and got them.”
“Well, how about that?” He kept staring at the orange slice, turning it this way and that in the light that streamed through the open window.
“Why don’t you try it?”
He turned and looked at her. Her gaze was steady and unblinking. He knew what she meant, and why they’d sent his favorite candy.
“I look forward to it, dear.” He set the slice down on the table and looked back up at her, his entire face creasing in a grateful smile. “Please give that thoughtful young man my thanks.”
Aubrey persisted. “If you don’t eat, Norman, you’re going to die.”
“Aubrey takes care of everyone. Who takes care of Aubrey?”
“This isn’t about me. Everyone’s noticed. You can’t not eat.”
“I beg to differ. It’s quite easy not to eat.”
“Would you mind telling me why you’re not eating?”
He looked at her and dropped the smile. “Because I am a human being, Aubrey. Because I’m eighty-eight years old, because I have been through wars and plagues, and I have decided that the time and place of my death are going to be of my own choosing. I have picked here, and I’ve picked now. Ish.”
She looked at him. She’d expected him to fudge, to lie or hedge, but he’d just come out with it. For that, she had not prepared herself. She didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t look so sad,” he said.
“Will you please just take a bite? For me?”
Norman looked at her for a long moment, weighing her request. He picked up the orange slice, gave it a delicate sniff, and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the aroma. Finally, he opened his eyes and nibbled off a corner. He looked at her and smiled, chewing.
“Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” She sat back in her chair, looking out the window at the neighborhood. “Hell of a view you got here.”
“Isn’t it gorgeous? I’ve lived here thirty-seven years and I’ve never seen the neighborhood look halfway so beautiful.”
“We’re taking the squashes, figs, and chard in the next few days. Pumpkins and kale the week after. I’ll bring you some.”
“Please do,” he said.
Aubrey glanced to her right, into the den just off his living room, where Norman kept his radio equipment. “What have you heard lately?”
He waved an old-man hand at her, dismissing the subject. “Not much.”
She turned and looked at him, not buying the brush-off. “What have you heard?”
“You said not to bother with bad news.”
Aubrey nodded, turning and looking out the window again. She shook her head. “Some days I feel so incredibly good. Better than I have in years. And then other times—it can be the next day or the next minute—it all turns, and I just don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”
Norman set down the orange slice, reached out, and put his hand on top of hers, on the arm of her chair.
She looked up at him. “What have you heard, Norman?”
“That things are going to get worse before they get better.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I told you, if you knew exactly what was going on in San Jose and Capetown and Budapest, would you do a single thing differently today? Here? On the street where you live?”
She shook her head no. She looked down. Against her will, her eyes filled with tears and overflowed. Her shoulders heaved, and she choked out a sob.
Norman didn’t try to make it better. He let her cry for a while, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and tired.
“‘He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.’”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re a fucking idiot.”
She laughed, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.
“I have seen the best of humanity,” he said, “and I have seen the worst. I have seen friends suffer the loss of their fortunes, their spouses, their children. I have said, ‘There but for the grace of God go I,’ and then I turned around and suffered every single one of those same unimaginable losses myself. And somehow never saw it coming. I have seen the hopes of whole generations crash against reality and collapse, I have watched the horrors of the last century—and really, historically speaking, you could pick a better century out of a hat—and through all of it I’ve noticed one thing. Life is worth living only when it has meaning. That is our biggest task and our greatest challenge.”