“You see, years ago Juan used to write poems to me. So when I went home that night I looked through the ones I’d saved, and it was there, the same poem. He’d written it to me years before, after we first broke up.
“So that’s why when somebody says there’s no scientific reason to believe in a life after this one, that’s why I can’t agree.”
16. Mrs. Hanson, in Apartment 1812 (2024)
“April. April’s the worst month for colds. You see the sunshine and you think it’s short-sleeve weather already and by the time you’re down on the street it’s too late to change your mind. Speaking of short sleeves, you’ve studied psychology, I wonder what you’d say about this. Lottie’s boy, you’ve seen him, Mickey, he’s eight now—And he will not wear short sleeves. Even here in the house. He doesn’t want you to see any part of his body. Wouldn’t you have to call that morbid? I would. Or neurotic? For eight years old?
“There, drink that. I remembered this time and it’s not so sweet.
“You wonder where children get their ideas. I suppose it was different for you—growing up without a family. Without a home. Such a regimented life. I don’t think any child—But perhaps there are other factors. Advantages? Well, that’s none of my beans-on-toast. But a dormitory, there’d be no privacy, and you, with all your studying! I wonder how you do it. And who looks after you if you’re sick?
“Is it too hot? Your poor throat. Though it’s little wonder that you’re hoarse. That book, it just goes on and on and on. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m enjoying it. Thoroughly. That part where she meets the French boy, or was he French, with the red hair, in Notre Dame Cathedral. That was very… What would you call it? Romantic? And then what happens when they’re up on the tower, that was a real shockeroo. I’m surprised they haven’t made a movie of it. Or have they? Of course I’d much rather be reading it, even if… But it isn’t fair to you. Your poor throat.
“I’m a Catholic too, did you know that? There’s the Sacred Heart, right behind you. Of course, nowadays! But I was brought up Catholic. Then just before I was supposed to be confirmed there was that uprising about who owned the churches. There I was standing on Fifth Avenue in my first woolen suit, though as a matter of fact it was more of a jumper, and my father with one umbrella, and my mother with another umbrella, and there was this group of priests practically screaming at us not to go in, and the other priests trying to drag us over the bodies on the steps. That would have been nineteen-eighty … One? Two? You can read about it now in history books, but there I was right in the middle of a regular battle, and all I could think of was—R.B. is going to break the umbrella. My father, R.B.
“Lord, whatever got me started on that track? Oh, the cathedral. When you were reading that part of the story I could imagine it so well. Where it said how the stone columns were like tree trunks, I remember thinking the same thing myself when I was in St. Patrick’s.
“You know, I try and communicate these things to my daughters, but they’re not interested. The past doesn’t mean anything to them, you wouldn’t catch one of them wanting to read a book like this. And my grandchildren are too young to talk with. My son, he’d listen, but he’s never here now.
“When you’re brought up in an orphanage—but do they call it an orphanage, if your parents are still alive?—do they bother with religion and all of that? Not the government, I suppose.
“I think everyone needs some kind of faith, whether they call it religion or spiritual light or what-have-you. But my Boz says it takes more strength to believe in nothing at all. That’s more a man’s idea. You’d like Boz. You’re exactly the same age and you have the same interests and—
“I’ll tell you what, Lenny, why don’t you spend tonight here? You don’t have any classes tomorrow, do you? And why go out in this terrible weather? Shrimp will be gone, she always is, though that’s just between you and me. I’ll put clean sheets on her bed and you can have the bedroom all to yourself. Or if not tonight, some other time. It’s a standing invitation. You’ll like it, having some privacy for a change, and it’s a wonderful chance for me, having someone I can talk to.”
17. Mrs. Hanson, at the Nursing Home (2021)
“Is this me? It is. I don’t believe it. And who is that with me? It isn’t you, is it? Did you have a moustache then? Where are we that it’s so green? It can’t be Elizabeth. Is it the park? It says ‘July the Fourth’ on the back, but it doesn’t say where.
“Are you comfortable now? Would you like to sit up more? I know how to. Like this. There, isn’t that better?
“And look—this is that same picnic and there’s your father! What a comical face. The colors are so funny on all of these.
“And Bobby here. Oh dear.
“Mother.
“And who is this? It says, ‘I’ve got more where that came from!’ but there’s no name. Is it one of the Schearls? Or somebody that you worked with?
“Here he is again. I don’t think I ever—
“Oh, that’s the car we drove to Lake Hopatcong in, and George Washington was sick all over the back seat. Do you remember that? You were so angry.
“Here’s the twins.
“The twins again.
“Here’s Gary. No, it’s Boz! Oh, no, yes, it’s Gary. It doesn’t look like Boz at all really, but Boz had a little plastic bucket just like that, with a red stripe.
“Mother. Isn’t she pretty in this?
“And here you are together, look. You’re both laughing. I wonder what about. Hm? That’s a lovely picture. Isn’t it? I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave it in here, on top of this letter from …? Tony? Is it from Tony? Well, that’s thoughtful. Oh, Lottie told me to be sure to remember to give you a kiss for her.
“I guess it’s that time. Is it?
“It isn’t three o’clock. I thought it was three o’clock. But it isn’t. Would you like to look at some more of them? Or are you bored? I wouldn’t blame you, having to sit there like that, unable to move a muscle, and listening to me go on. I can rattle. I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you were bored.”
Part III: Mrs. Hanson
18. The New American Catholic Bible (2021)
Years before 334, when they’d been living in a single dismal basement room on Mott Street, a salesman had come round selling the New American Catholic Bible, and not just the Bible but a whole course of instructions that would bring her up to date on her own religion. By the time he’d come back to repossess she’d filled in the front pages with all the important dates of the family’s history:
The salesman let her keep the Bible in exchange for the original deposit and an additional five dollars but took back the study plans and the looseleaf binder.
That was 1999. Whenever in later years the family enlarged or contracted she would enroll the fact faithfully in The New American Catholic Bible the very day it happened.
On June 30, 2001, Jimmy Tom was clubbed by the police during a riot protesting the ten o’clock curfew that the President had imposed during the Farm Crisis. He died the same night.
On April 11, 2003, six years after his father’s death. Boz was born in Bellevue Hospital. Dwight had been a member of the Teamsters, the first union to get sperm preservation benefits as a standard feature of its group life policy.
On May 29, 2013, Amparo was born, at 334. Not until she’d mistakenly written down Amparo’s last name as Hanson did she realize that as yet the Bible possessed no record of Amparo’s father. By now, however, the official listing had acquired a kind of shadow of omitted relatives: her own stepmother Sue-Ellen, her endless in-laws, and Shrimp’s two federal contract babies who had been called Tiger (after the cat he’d replaced) and Thumper (after Thumper in Bambi). Juan’s case was more delicate than any of these, but finally she decided that even though Amparo’s name was Martinez, Lottie was still legally a Hanson, and so Juan was doomed to join the other borderline cases in the margin. The mistake was corrected.