Tony Covatta

Boss Baxter Bigg invited Ray to attend POTUS’s speech. Afterwards, POTUS worked the room, chatting with his cousin Clyde who sat by Ray, then greeting Bigg: “Bax! What’s up?” Amazing. Yale classmates. Bigg introduced Ray to POTUS. They shot the breeze, cordially shook hands. Clyde wanted an autograph for cousin Calvin. POTUS: “Sure. Got a pen?” Bigg brandished his cherished Montblanc. POTUS signed, pocketed the pen, turned quickly away. Bigg flung himself at him: “Mr. Preside

Grammar school seniors Nick and Mick were altar boys that month for early mass. They played a game. First to the sacristy each day signed in for both of them, inserting profane or scatological nickname for the latecomer. Midmonth they came to their senses. Sister Cunégonde would expel them if she survived discovery of the unholy mess. Ever ingenious, they filched blank sheets and recreated the defiled pages sans profanity and scatology, deep-sixing the evidence. Phew. Silence

Grandma rode home with the kids from a family funeral. “Gran, what’s that potted plant by Uncle Rocco’s gravestone?” “Rocky was our first at college. The day he arrived, his roommate already had a jade plant in their room. Rocky loved it. His roommate’s mom gave him his own at graduation. “He always kept one, his charm, he said, for his luck in life, good jobs, finer things, his nieces and nephews. He paid to have one decorate his grave in summer and be housed in winter. The

On their first date, Mike and Mimi, second timers both, drove thirty miles to the Cineplex. After five miles Mike knew. Not Mimi’s good figure, streaked blonde hair, striking attire. It was her voice. She listened to, remarked, engaged Mike as if he were the only person and they had all the time in the world. Open, direct, Mimi answered Mike’s questions without affect, neither showing off nor discounting herself. He wanted to hear the music of her graceful, empathic lilt fore

Clotilda: “Sugar, here are the week’s pills for Aunt Tillie.” Matilda: “Thanks. You are so nice to supervise Tillie’s care.” “It’s only been seven years. Mom and Dad are gone. I’m single, no kids. She’s my only relative. Keeps me going.” “She loves you so much.” “Sweetie-pie, you’re the one, her primary caregiver. She’s leaving you a bundle.” “Another dark ‘n’ stormy?” “Sure, tall, dark ‘n’ handsome.” “Clotilda, what brings you to Bermuda? “Inheritance from my rich aunt Tilli

Solitary Sid surprised himself, attended Marcia and Marty’s do. Cynical Sid always told the same “joke:” “They’ve invited their 250 closest friends.” Not tonight, Sidney. He’d long been out of circulation. Turnout sparse, they’d more likely invited the hundred they knew were still alive. Unsettled Sid circulated, chatted up the lame and the halt, joshed the chair bound, jollied the crutch riding, joked with widows and widowers. He skipped sipping wine, chugged a double bourbo

Intrepid Miles and Molly disembarked from the Colonsay-Oban ferry late afternoon, headed for the Yorkshire dales, hours southeast. Darkness fell, roads narrowed. A disconcerting sign: “GPS inaccurate, one lane ahead, pay particular attention to oncoming traffic.” “Miles, what? Late night, cattle path to Aylsgarth. Have you ever paid ‘particular attention’ to anything?” “We’re going.” Molly comes to, surrounded by white coats and scrubs. “This isn’t ‘The Rectory’ at Aylsgarth,

Cute, curvy single mom Wendy asked: “Man my haunted house for the kids? We’ll have fun.” Bachelor Ben pitched right in, helping decorate and place props. Wendy, meticulous planner, tireless designer, arranged it all: thunder, lightning, giant spiders, open coffins, creaking doors, bloody piles of entrails, bones, eerie echoes. Halting slobbering zombie Ben stumbled after the kids down a narrowing, wobbly hallway. The screaming kids fled terrified, tearful, trembling as chortl

Clotilda: “Sugar, here are the week’s pills for Aunt Tillie.” Matilda: “Thanks. You are so nice to supervise Tillie’s care.” “It’s only been seven years. Mom and Dad are gone. I’m single, no kids. She’s my only relative. Keeps me going.” “She loves you so much.” “Sweetie-pie, you’re the one, her primary caregiver. She’s leaving you a bundle.” “Another dark ‘n’ stormy?” “Sure, tall, dark ‘n’ handsome.” “Clotilda, what brings you to Bermuda? “Inheritance from my rich aunt Tilli

“Well, Sam?” “Sigmunda, I had this weird dream. You and I made passionate love after I shot my wife Sally.” “Wonderful! Finally, you understand our deep mutual desire. We will kill Sally together, then move to Vienna. There bliss awaits us.” “Whoa Doc! Remember transference? I want to resolve issues, not commit murder, nor run off with you. We’re done.” “You reject me? You’ll be very sorry.” Sam called Sally. “Sigmunda has slipped a cog. You can’t believe—” “Oh, but I do. She

White coated Dr. Atropos cut the thread: “Incurable, Millie. Sorry.” “How long?” asked Millie and care-giving husband Mike. “How long?” was implied in every glance, conversation, message, call. Mike nursed Millie. Reluctant, ending each day, he stuffed its events into a box, stacked it untied by the invisible door into the dark. As the boxes piled up, Millie’s smiles engendered Mike’s smiles back, created a ribbon between them. They no longer asked nor heard “How long?” With

Nick at Mike’s retirement party: “Mike, old friend, congrats on your forty years. I always hoped you’d come to work for me.” “Nick, I enjoyed my summer clerkship for you but things just didn’t work out.” (Mike remembers Nick grabbing back his paycheck, mistakenly drafted for fifty dollars too much.) “Nick—we treated Mike too well. Right from the start,” joked boss Dick. (Dick remembers Mike’s first payday, Mike’s declaring—“Dick, you overpaid, gave me more than agreed. It amo

Clotilda: “Sugar, here are the week’s pills for Aunt Tillie.” Matilda: “Thanks. You are so nice to supervise Tillie’s care.” “It’s only been seven years. Mom and Dad are gone. I’m single, no kids. She’s my only relative. Keeps me going.” “She loves you so much.” “Sweetie-pie, you’re the one, her primary caregiver. She’s leaving you a bundle.” “Another dark ‘n’ stormy?” “Sure, tall, dark ‘n’ handsome.” “Clotilda, what brings you to Bermuda? “Inheritance from my rich aunt Tilli

“So sorry to learn your Frances died, Gino. I just had to put Alex in care. Alzheimers.” “Thanks for your note Amanda,” he replies. “Sorry about Alex. Need help? Let’s get through this together.” She emails: “Gino, I’m OK, but lonely. Meet for coffee sometime?” “Sure. This Friday?” Gino learned to accept missing Frances, as Amanda did Alex, who soon passed. Friends raised eyebrows. How quickly it all came together! “You say it was the condolences. They just don’t believe it.”

Ken Davis was leaving the seminary. Five years. He’d had enough: constant bells, restriction to grounds, daily chapel, a faith no longer believed, nightly vision of well-lit homes across the way, peopled by families he would never have. His mother picked him up, in tears. “How can you do this? I was so proud, wanted to see you graduate, ordained. I never stopped telling my friends.” Or thinking of herself. Slowing the car, she pointed back, demanded: “See what you’re giving u

“Thursday, June 1, 2015, 5:30 PM. Festschrift honoring Carl Young, MD, Director, Metro Psychoanalytic Institute for 45 years, at the Institute. Dinner afterwards ($50 contribution) at home of Anna Freed, LISW.” Ray was pleased to be invited. He seldom received surprise invitations. He accepted immediately, with a $50 check. Carl Young, bearded, overweight, gruff and funny, was a golfing buddy. Their kids had gone to school together. Ray had supported the Institute’s charitabl

Leslie was long married to Herb when his cognition and balance began to fail. Alzheimer’s. She resolved to keep him at home, gradually assuming all tasks, driving, shopping, cleaning, handling the checkbook, yard and garden. She did everything she could and found others to handle the rest. Her friends consoled her. Touching, but she really didn’t need it. Leslie’s life grew calm and steady on its own as she shaped and protected Herb’s. She wished no ill or hurt to others, ind

Each summer Will waved goodbye as his pal headed for relatives’ homes in Kansas. Will’s impoverished family seldom travelled. One year Mom insisted on visiting cousin Vic in Florida. Their cram-packed Chevy limped into Tampa. No reservations. They saw only “No Vacancy” signs, family friction aflame. After lunch break, Mom made her life’s wisest pronouncement: “Now we’ll feel better. Things will work out.” From their heaven-sent single room, Will watched sister Wanda tan beet

Ken Davis was leaving the seminary. Five years. He’d had enough: constant bells, restriction to grounds, daily chapel, a faith no longer believed, nightly vision of well-lit homes across the way, peopled by families he would never have. His mother picked him up, in tears. “How can you do this? I was so proud, wanted to see you graduate, ordained. I never stopped telling my friends.” Or thinking of herself. Slowing the car, she pointed back, demanded: “See what you’re giving u

At son Nat’s urging, Nick finally gave in, planned a week with him on the Appalachian Trail. Nick was sleeping soundly the first night out when co-eds from a nearby college overran the campground, gabbed till dawn. Nick began favoring a knee that morning but soldiered on all day to a bucolic bivouac. Drifting off to sleep, he heard a bassoon toting hiker arrive about dusk, providing entertainment till 11:30. Next morning Nat noticed Nick could hardly walk on his gimpy knee. N

“Leo, You’re one cool customer—quite the negotiator. Get that from your dad, Leon, the famous lawyer?” “Thanks, Larry. I did. I’ll never forget. Overheard Leon coaching Mom, Lena, on buying their lifelong house: ‘Lena, just listen. I’ll offer broker Bob 21,000, hope to stick at 23. 27 would be a real stretch’ “ “And they got it for--?” “30,500. Bob opened asking what they’d pay. Lena blurted ‘27’. They went up from there.” “Wait. What did you learn?” “What’s important. Leon l

Bad news piled up but Nick was coping. The caregiver scheduled for Nick’s terminally ill wife phoned. Sick, she couldn’t work. Scrambling, he found a replacement. He needed to go to his cousin’s for visitation for her only son, dead in a car crash just the day before. He meandered amid friends and relatives, sampled scraps of the food kindly neighbors furnished. Time to go. Nick hugged his cousin tight, then held her at arm’s length. Mistakenly, he gazed deep into her eyes. S

Semester abroad, spring break, Hoosier Holly met Jersey girl Debbie on the train. In Florence, they found a room with vaulted columns, frescoes, putti. Next afternoon, Debbie exclaimed: “Dad died last year, today. I have to light a yahrzeit candle.” They searched. No luck. Dusk approaching, Holly spotted the Star of David on a store window, shutter descending. Debbie raced, pleaded, bought her candle. At their villa, Debbie lit the candle, recited the Yahrzeit prayer. By shim

Teenage Jerry loved the races, went with occasional horseplayer, Jerry Senior. “This race I’ll take the three. Can’t lose.” “That’s why they run around the track Jerry. I’ll pass, but six is a nice longshot.” Six won, paid 25/1. “Dad, ever consider being a professional gambler?” “Jerry, go to the unmarked pay booth downstairs. Wait till someone comes out.” Jerry watched two tough guys emerge, fists full of cash. Laughing, backslapping: “We’ve been down so many times. Up feels

The saints came marching in. Found sinners kicked them out.

Ray got custody of son Joe, age 6, in time for his Christmas wish list: bicycle, Legos, matchbox cars, basketball, football, bat, pony, flippers, Reds uniform, ambulance truck. Pony? Forget it. Other stuff? Some, not all. “Ambulance truck?” Boxy emergency vans were supplanting the older station wagon ambulance. Ray located a toy ambulance truck. Bed check Christmas night found Joe asleep, hugging this favorite present tight. How cute. Not really. Custody to Ray followed errat

“Fess up.” A dark voice: “You’re a worthless piece of crap.” Black dreams pour into Roscoe’s cranium. Everything that can go wrong cloaked in fear. All that ever did boiling in stews of regret and self-incrimination. Mistakes made in his failed first marriage, the times he lost it with the kids, the boss he hated, told him so. Slowly he awakens. The aroma of coffee she’s made. The kids chattering about their day. The dog woofing to be let out. Not so bad. Why not embrace it?

Autumn. Pre-dawn workout completed, Frances and Ray motored down the narrow lane from the gym. Too late, Ray glimpsed a shape hurdle from the darkness, slam onto their grill and hood, twisting antlers scraping the windshield. The gray, furred, somersaulting hulk thudded on their roof, bounced off the boot, lay motionless on the pavement behind. “Damn. I’ll have to kill it.” Ray reached for his wrench set. Coming to, the woozy buck twitched, wobbled onto his hooves, found bala

Gino ordered eggs, over easy, and ham. Order up, but—no hot sauce. “Cholula?” The waitress delivered a bottle. A generous dollop engendered ecstasy. As he slowly savored bites, the diner two stools over received a mouthwatering omelet. Looked good, but where’s the hot sauce? Passing waitresses ignored his hesitant glances. Should Gino give him his bottle? He couldn’t decide. Both continued eating slowly. Finishing first, Gino acted. He quietly edged his Cholula toward the nei

Melinda and all-knowing boyfriend Dudley were going wilderness hiking. Enamored Melinda recited picky Dud’s myriad safety tips: “Finally--never fly on a helicopter.” The woods seemed lovely--until a galloping brush fire trapped them on a steep hilltop. A helicopter miraculously appeared. Hysterical Dudley lunged for the lowered sling chair, signaling immediate hoist. Next day. Icy, calm, quiet Melinda watched at the hospital door as medics stretchered in copter crash survivor

Summer weekend trip with the grandkids. “Gramps, we loved the Capitol. Seeing where the rioters waved Confederate flags, wow!” “Ike, where next?” “The White House, Tina.” “Grandma, Grandpa, it’s so cool. The Prez lives upstairs. He doesn’t even need a wheelchair, they say! Can we go to the Supreme Court?” “Sure, but they vacation July through September. No one will be there.” They stood on the empty pavement out front. “Granpa, it says ‘Equal Justice under Law.’ What does tha

Single parents Frances and Ray had kids, she Astrid (10) and Ingrid (9), he Tim (2). They agreed on friends, politics, books, movies, raising children. At Thanksgiving they were flying to their hometown, to meet all the folks. Ray knew Frances adored her lovely girls. Long term could she accept Tim as her own? They were late to the airport. “Frances, kids, run. I’ll park the car.” “Yes, Ray!” The girls sprinted ahead. Turning toward the lot, he could see Frances glance down,

The new couple invited us to their New Year’s Eve bash. The guys sported tight bright slacks, open collar shirts and gold chains. Their glittery girls wore short skirts or tight shorts, tight blouses or short tops. Lots of bling, booze, food. As the hour approached, girls locked onto hot guys, guys toothsome girls. Not spouses. Try something new. At twelve long kisses, tight clinches. We left at 12:05. “Did she get a nice feel of your rear?” “Too nice. Your ‘friend’”? “My elb

Mike asked Molly: “Who’re we meeting for dinner?” “Ike and Milly.” “Milly’s your best pal, but Ike. Yikes. Mr. Know It All.” “Ike is so smart. Don’t you like his talking about space/time? How Einstein said there were no real divisions among past, present and future. That it was only illusion?’ “Bor-ring. When he gets going, I’m swept over the event horizon into a black hole.” “And you act like you grew up in one. So rude and uncouth. At least you take me back to anthropology

The Rossi family lived on the edge of working class Germantown, site of skinny, low white clapboard railroad shacks. Their street was marginally nicer, sporting an embryonic subdivision, tiny two story brick edifices crowded together—one of them the Rossi’s. This setting was one of several reasons young Gino Rossi felt out of place. Others: his schoolmates’ fathers worked in factories or construction while his ran a small luncheonette. His housewife mother lived with the prem

Fifteen years ago: “Our only goal is Dad’s comfort,” they said, wheeling his hospital bed into our living room. Nurses and our kids charged in and out, never knocking. Chip bags and horrid drink cups littered my kitchen. Furniture was strewn everywhere. At least I saw how to change sheets with someone lying in them. One evening, exhausted, the kids and I shared drinks. Breaking the rule, Sonny gave poor doped-up Dad a sip of Scotch. He reached for more, but Sonny withheld the

Delta Terminal, LaGuardia, late 1970s. Nick remembers. Amid the arriving throng, he inched ahead. Next to him, a balding businessman, in gray suit, striped tie hanging over paunch, clutching his weathered briefcase, remarked: “Hard to believe this. Every day. Why’d you come?” “I’m here searching for my son. My ex-wife is hiding him.” The man halted, took Nick’s elbow: “I’ll pray you find him.” “Thank you.” Shaking hands, they parted. In good time, Nick found his boy. He doesn

David’s grandson Bobbie loved the zoo’s kiddie train. Grandad couldn’t drag the boy away. At twelve David misplaced him at the Air & Space Museum. When found Bob was attending a talk on the nature of flight, dominating the Q and A. Retired now, David follows Robert’s work as an aerospace engineer, but knows he will die long before Robert takes his trip to Mars. Will David somehow see that, having journeyed through the black hole at the center of the galaxy, and gladly observe

“Dad died this morning.” Wesley reported to brother Nick, then declared: “I’ve always hated Mom.” “So typical,” thought Nick. “Mom sure was tough. But he can’t leave it alone. Even now. Why?” They didn’t discuss it further at Dad’s funeral. Years passed before it came up again. Wesley, much worse from general wear, now lived alone shambolically amid empty bottles and wrappers of a misspent life. Despite the mess Nick noticed a mantelpiece picture of youthful Mom, beautiful, s

“Why spring release, Doc? I’ll scream. Can’t do another four months.” “Demonstrate some impulse control, Charlie. Don’t screw it up now.” Twelve years of stone walls, steel doors, now they take away my year-end release. Nothing to do but stare out the window at scraggly trees, rutted turf, sooty snow drifts. Except for those holly bushes with brilliant red berries. Now even the berries are disappearing. That plump robin is pigging out. Pregnant? Isn’t she the first sign of sp

“Mimi, I’m going to walk the dog.” “Fine, Tom. Please put Tibor on his leash.” Around the corner. “Come on, boy. Let’s ditch this stupid leash.” Unbound, Tibor, 30-pound Puli, gambols across yards, frisks in gathering darkness. A hulking German Shepherd appears, attacks. Chaos ensues. Tibor gives all, but death looms until Tom pulls him from the maelstrom. “Good boy. You showed him.” At home, Mimi examines her whimpering dog. “Look at these gashes. Poor darling. No leash, huh

Lawyer Larry searched, quietly arranged an adoption through a church for the Millers. Picking up the babe privately, he was struck by the smiling minister’s willowy height, freckles sprinkled below bright blue eyes, shock of golden curls. Larry lost track of the family, was pleased years later at the invitation to daughter Madonna’s wedding on the Millers’ glistening lawn. The handsome priest—"Madonna found the guy herself, somewhere,” said father Mel--looked vaguely familiar

When Rad MacCreedy married Matilda promptly after Molly passed, mother MacCreedy viewed Matilda’s fervent vegetarianism asquint. Invited up for Christmas, Mom dispatched a huge ham North, just before holiday onset. Matilda called an audible: “Darling, first we’ll serve Christmas Eve at the Shelter, picking up your Ma at the station on the way.” They did. All MacCreedys served diligently. The homeless loved the spread, not least the delicious ham. Back at Rad’s the MacCreedys

1974 Nick drives Nina to the cinema. First date. “I wonder what he’s thinking?” “Great hair, nice body, good sense of humor.” “He actually listens to my answers to his questions.” “What an engaging, smart woman. I’ve never met one I’ve liked more.” ​ 2024 Nick drives Nina home from the hospital. This will be their last trip. “I wonder what he’s thinking?” “I still like looking at her. And she’s never lost her sense of humor.” “He listens so carefully to what those doctors are

“Hello, Nick? Julia here. We sat together in astronomy class.” “Good lord. Fifty years. How’d you find me?” “Easy. You’re all over Google. I’ve thought of you often. How’s life?” “Unh, Ohhh-kay.” Silence. “You?” “Wonderful. But I never forgot your ‘dome,’ your explanation for leaving town: ‘The invisible dome above here blocks everything new and interesting.’ I couldn’t agree.” They chat cordially, hang up. For weeks it sticks with Nick. Julia was so composed, so positive. Ma

Wendy was three years married to Wesley, second try for both, when his son Wayne (7), sullen, rebellious, arrived. She labored to get intractable Wayne on track but couldn’t. As the teen years began, she’d had enough: “Wesley, choose: boarding school, military academy or reformatory. I’m done.” That summer Wesley spent weeks touring boarding schools with Wayne, was shocked to receive letters from each school, accepting him. “Wendy, choose: which one?” “None of them. I’d miss

“Amanda, what happened to the car?” “Deer strike.” “Yikes! OK? “Not the deer. I called 911. Police came. The young officer said ‘Ma’am, got to put it down.’” “Not unusual.” “No? Listen. The nervous cop just stood there. Suddenly a pickup truck stopped. A farmer, in khaki Carhartt overalls, jumped out, volunteered: --‘Officer, loan me your gun. I’ll shoot it.’ --“The cop did. The farmer did, asked for the remains. They traded gun for carcass.” “Loaned his gun, gave away the de

“Why so glum, Jerry? It wasn’t your funeral.” “Amanda, that eulogy! I couldn’t recognize Paul --‘A good shepherd?’--Don’t make me laugh.” “Paul always looked out for Number One, it’s true, but—” “So why avoid it? You know everyone is saying the same thing as they drive home. Paul was money grubbing and—” “Hey! ‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum.” “What?” “Latin, ‘Nothing but good about the dead.’ “ “So?” “People have always wanted to close the books positively. See the donut, not the

I came downstairs. Caregiver Roxane, greying, skinny, wiry, motionless this once, gazed at the wind-combed waves breaking against the Lake Michigan shore. The last day of summer, we were homeward bound. Roxane, selfless, resourceful, humorous, had made these past weeks possible for my ailing wife. We hugged, promised to see each other next year. I watched Roxie head out to her truck, skip stepping, this once, and drive away. A call in February: “Bad news from Florida. Roxane

Their first Christmas began at 3:30 that snowy afternoon. Frances had taken her two girls to her ex’s for the day. After his tears and recriminations, she went home. “I’ll fetch the girls at six.” Ray’s son and ex-wife were at his in-laws’. “I’ll pick Joey up day after tomorrow.” In early, quiet dark Frances and Ray sat on her entryway steps. It was all very new. They opened small presents, shared the day’s desolations, compared their bruised, achy feelings. Laughter generate