Cheated By Death Read Online Free PDF

Resnick.”
    “You must be his son. Come in.”
    Son. It had been a long time since I’d been
anyone’s son.
    The house smelled of fresh-brewed coffee and
disinfectant. Though the furniture was shabby and dated, the place
was clean. The woman ushered me through the tiny living room and
kitchen to the back of the house, where a twenty-seven-inch TV
blared. The cramped, paneled family room had been tacked on to the
back of the little cracker box of a house.
    Chester Arthur Resnick sat in a worn,
oversized recliner, tethered to a green oxygen tank by a tube
trailing from his nose. Dressed in flannel pajamas and robe, he
looked like an older, sick version of the few pictures I’d seen of
him. His sparse white hair was scraped across his head in a vain
effort to cover his baldness. The energy-saver fluorescent bulb in
the lamp nearby gave his skin a pale, greenish tinge.
    I stood there, unsure of what to say,
wondering if I’d be heard over the TV.
    “Can I take your coat?” the woman asked.
    “I’ll keep it,” I said, figuring it would be
easier if I needed to make a fast escape.
    “I’ll get coffee. You like milk and
sugar?”
    “Just milk.”
    She nodded and took off for the kitchen.
    Chet hit the mute button on the remote, the
sudden quiet jarring me. “Sit down,” he said. “Did you bring my
doughnuts, boy?”
    He took the bag from me, taking out one of
the chocolate-covered ones. He bit into it and the custard oozed
onto his fingers. “Elena, bring some napkins.”
    A black cat appeared from out of nowhere,
leaping onto the old man’s lap. He let the cat lick the custard
from his thumb, then wiped it on his robe.
    “This is Herschel, he keeps me company,” he
said, stroking the cat fondly. It settled onto the old man’s lap,
glaring at me with yellow eyes.
    “Richard says you know all about me,” I
said.
    “Some. How come your wife got murdered?”
    “She was into drugs.”
    He nodded, non-judgmental. “Too bad. You got
a girlfriend now?”
    “Yeah. She lives in Clarence.”
    His eyes wandered to the game show on the
tube. “Is she nice?”
    “Very nice. How do you know so much about
me?”
    He looked at me and shrugged. “I got
friends.”
    I didn’t like that answer, but I couldn’t
force him to give me a better one. I focused my attention on the
cat, finding it easier than looking into my father’s eyes. Though
stray cat hair clung to Chet’s hand, there was a noticeable lack of
it on the furniture and rug. Elena kept the place spotless.
    “Doctor says you got hurt last winter. That’s
why you come back to Buffalo,” Chet said.
    “I got mugged. They nearly killed me.” Why’d
I say that? I didn’t need sympathy—or anything else—from him.
    I decided not to volunteer any more
information. If he wanted to know anything else, he could ask.
    Dishes rattling in the kitchen caused
Herschel to leap from Chet’s lap. The old man shook his hand free
of cat hair. “I was gonna get you when your mother died, but then
Doctor took you in. I figured those people owed your mother, so I
didn’t bother.”
    “You could have let me know you were still
around.”
    “What for? Your life’s been fine without me,
hasn’t it? What could I offer you?”
    Yeah. What?
    “You got a sister,” he said, and reached for
a framed photo on the table next to his chair. The color dyes had
faded on the high school senior picture. “That’s Patty. She’s
twenty-six now.”
    I studied the young, smiling face. She was
pretty, with muddy brown eyes—like mine—and dishwater blonde hair.
She looked familiar somehow, but not because we shared a parent.
She had some other quality I couldn’t pin down.
    “You remarried?” I asked Chet.
    “Your mother was a good Catholic. She didn’t
believe in divorce. After Betty died, Joan and me never bothered to
make it legal. Patty don’t know that. Don’t you tell her, now.”
    “Have you got any other kids?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    Would he even care?