“The risk of leaving now,” Dr. Jensen said, appealing to Howard, as if he had any say in the matter, “is that all of Joe’s progress could become undone. It would be a shame for that to happen, after all the hard work he’s done in therapy.” His tone was sincere, but Pearl wasn’t having any of it. From the looks of the boy, he wasn’t buying it either.
Howard, always agreeable, nodded gravely, the wobbly skin below his chin betraying his age. Most of the time, Howard looked the same as he ever did to Pearl. It was only when going through old photos that Pearl was forced to admit that time had done a number on both of them. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how the years had ravaged her. She stared in the mirror in the morning, wondering how in the world she’d gotten so old. Luckily, nature had chipped away at her eyesight while simultaneously stealing her former beauty, the only blessing in the whole process.
Pearl cleared her throat and said, “I think that’s a risk Joe is willing to take. Am I right?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been wanting to leave for weeks.” Joe boosted the duffel bag higher over his shoulder. A sign of readiness. She was glad to hear that his voice was strong. No hesitation, no reluctance to go against the wishes of the so-called professional. His father had always been a bit weak, too worried about what other people thought. She could tell already that Joe was able to make a stand.
“I think it’s a mistake,” Dr. Jensen said, his voice louder, “and I know the boy’s parents would agree.”
“Not a boy,” Joe said, objecting. “I’m legally an adult. So it’s not up to them.”
“Do you have everything?” Pearl asked her grandson. The duffel bag hardly looked sufficient, but what did she know? She was an old lady who’d acquired a lifetime of things. Young people just starting out hadn’t yet gotten a chance to be burdened with so much stuff, most of it not necessary, and some of it painful reminders of the past.
He nodded.
“Well, then, there’s no need to tarry. Let’s go.” This last bit was directed at Howard, who was shaking the doctor’s hand as if this were a social call and not a rescue mission. “Howard!” It came out like a reprimand, but Howard was so used to her ways, he didn’t mind. He was a good egg.
When they got to the double front doors, the woman at the desk called out, “Goodbye, Joe. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t look back. The sound of a buzzer accompanied the release of the front doors. Howard, always the gentleman, held the door for her, then Joe did the same for Howard, deferring to the older man’s age and the use of his cane. Her grandson had manners, then, always a good thing.
As they walked to the parking lot, Joe let out an audible sigh. They were almost to the car when he stopped and held up a hand. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said, “but I think there’s been some mistake.” A lone unseen bird chirped off in the distance.
“Oh?” Pearl leaned against the car, her bulky purse hanging from the crook of her arm. “Did you forget something?”
“No, I . . .” He ran his hand over his shaggy dark hair. “I don’t know why you claimed me as your grandson, but I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m sorry to have to tell you I’m not related to you. My name is Joe Arneson.”
His confession amused Pearl. “I know your name,” she said. “Arneson is my name too. I’m Pearl Arneson. Your father is my son.”
“My father?” He squinted, puzzling it out.
“Your father is Bill Arneson, is he not?”
“Yes, that’s his name.” The duffel bag dropped to the pavement. “But maybe we’re talking about a different Bill Arneson? My dad’s mother died a long time ago. Before I was born.”
“Good news,” she said, rifling through her large purse. “Not so dead after all.” She pulled out the two birth certificates that proved their shared lineage and thrust them toward him. “I’m not surprised he told you that. Bill always did have a flair for the dramatic.” And a sense of righteous indignation, she thought. He was probably still mulling over all her wrongs decades after the fact. As if he were so perfect.
Joe took what seemed like an exceedingly long time to read over the birth certificates. She could almost see the wheels turning and the gears locking into place as he made the connection. Mother to son, son to son, grandmother to grandson. Howard motioned toward the car, and she waved her permission for him to get behind the wheel. Standing was difficult for him.