The Sunset Gang Read Online Free PDF

sorry," she said, the tears coming now,
"confused."
    "Unsure?"
    "Please, Velvil," she said, and then sniffled.
"I've been a quiet peaceful married lady for forty-four years."
    "A vegetable."
    "Yes, a vegetable. But this kind of aggravation is
more than I think I can take."
    "When is the meeting?" he asked stiffly.
    "Tomorrow morning. In a room in the clubhouse."
    "My God, it is like an innocent family affair, a
family circle." He bit his lips. "I'm not coming," he said
weakly, knowing his protest was in vain.
    "I promised for you."
    His anger would not dissipate, and walking her back to her
car in the dark parking lot, he wondered if he had lost her. She should be
coming home with me, he told himself, gathering her in his arms, kissing her
cheeks, feeling the saltiness of her tears.
    "Are you slipping away from me?" he whispered.
But she did not answer. She got into the car and drove off, leaving him lonely
and despairing in the darkness, feeling the weight of his years.
    During the night he tossed in the strange bed, going over
imaginary conversations with his children and their husbands, with David, with
Genendel's children. In all of these fantasies his words sounded hollow,
unpersuasive. How can an old man talk of love? Even in his mind he sounded like
an adolescent. It was only toward morning that he discovered that the
conversations in his imagination were not conversations at all. Information was
transmitted to him, but not from him as he had been talking Yiddish. The idea
of that restored his courage and calmed him enough for him to fall into semi-slumber.
    He had timed himself to be the last to arrive. They all
looked toward him, tight anxious faces masked with bitterness rising like
steam. They had set the room up like a business conference, twelve seats around
a long table. Thankfully, they had left one seat empty at the far end of the
table. Larry, his son-in-law, sat at the other end, looking very much like a
board chairman. Genendel was sitting between what must have been her son and
daughter. They resembled her. Dutifully, he kissed the proffered cheek of his
daughter Dotty, who mumbled something politely. Mimi turned her eyes away.
    The scene was ludicrous, he told himself in Yiddish, a
strange assemblage. He knew that the two families had briefed themselves in
advance, had hit upon a strategy and, as he had suspected, had appointed Larry
as their spokesman. Looking at the group, he was surprised at his own calm. His
eyes sought Genendel's, who lifted hers. She had been crying again, he saw,
hoping that he could will her to take heart. She looked defeated and he sensed
her indecisiveness. I am free of them all, he told himself with elation as he
took his seat.
    "We felt this was the only way, Pop," Larry
began.
    What a pompous ass, Velvil thought, observing him with his
coat opened and the Phi Beta Kappa key dangling from his vest. He wondered why
they hadn't brought the grandchildren. It was, after all, everybody's business.
    "I don't want you both," Larry began unctuously,
"to think of this as any kind of special pressure. We are simply all in
some way involved in these decisions. What we are discussing here are two
families, children, grandchildren, and, essentially, peace of mind. We all have
a genuine interest in your mutual welfare." He paused, as if he were in
court, feeling the strength of his own authority.
    Mimi sat stiffly, indignant and sour-faced, but assured and
under control. Velvil watched as David nodded.
    "We all honestly feel that if we appealed to your
reason and intelligence, to your practicality and good sense, that you would
conclude that this idea is detrimental to yourselves and all of us," Larry
said.
    "As far as I'm concerned they could both rot in
hell," Mimi suddenly blurted.
    Larry turned to her in disgust. "You promised, Ma. You
promised." He banged the table. "We will have none of this, do you
hear?"
    "They can still rot in hell." Mimi huffed and
folded her arms over her fat