As Close to Us as Breathing: A Novel by Elizabeth Poliner

difficult business, the most difficult of his life—but Nelson wouldn’t. Instead he flagged Regina over to the table. “You got any dessert?” he asked, suddenly agitated. “A little for me, a little for him. We’ll split whatever you’ve got.”
    When Regina brought them two bowls of fruit cocktail, Nelson dug right in. Howard, who hadn’t been able to finish his meal, had no appetite for it. He slid his bowl toward Nelson.
    “I’ll tell you about it sometime,” Nelson offered at last, his voice calmer, the two bowls of fruit cocktail eaten clean. “It’s not about your father, it’s about my father,” he added, and that was at least something.
    Howard nodded.
      
     
    At three o’clock that afternoon Mort and Leo grabbed their weekend suitcases, stuck in a corner of the back office at the store, and, along with Howard, headed off, out of Middletown and toward Woodmont. Because Leo was prone to car sickness, he sat in the front seat beside Howard, who drove. Leo was reading a book by Charles Darwin, The Formation of Vegetable Mould, Through the Action of Worms. With a title like that, Howard didn’t even want to begin to ask about the book. Behind Howard, Mort sat compliantly enough in the backseat, though for Howard the sight of Mort in the rearview mirror, serious as ever as he gazed out the window, and even as he nodded off napping, was more than a little daunting.
    At four o’clock Howard pulled the Dodge into the parking lot at the Savin Rock amusement park in West Haven. His father was still napping, but this detour was expected, Howard knew, and so with only Leo’s consent, but not Mort’s, he drove toward that part of the parking area abutting Jimmies hot dog stand. They would each get a hot dog at Jimmies, known for its split dogs, perfectly fried. The stop was a secret from the women at Woodmont. The men knew that the women would scold them for ruining their appetite, but because dinner wouldn’t be served until at least half-past seven, the fortification was indeed helpful, and besides, “there comes a point,” Mort had said the first of the two previous times Howard had joined them, “when a man has to take a little time out from the family.” As they sauntered moments later toward Jimmies, Howard trailing his newly awakened father, he noted to himself how odd a rationale that was, for the men had already taken time out—at the morning service, for example, not to mention during the whole week at the store. But Howard didn’t dare question it: the men, Leo as much as Mort, were religious about their pre-Shabbos hot dogs. Apparently they needed the stop, couldn’t quite make the transition from Middletown to Woodmont without it. And today was not the day to start even a friendly argument with his father.
    Their hot dogs paid for, the men settled themselves at a nearby picnic table. Off in the distance was the famous Savin Rock roller coaster. Closer by, at their feet, was a veritable sea of littered napkins. The place was seedy, Howard always thought. But the hot dogs sure were good. For a few minutes the men ate in silence. Howard glanced several times Mort’s way, but his father was steadfastly gazing out toward Long Island Sound. Leo’s gaze was similarly seaward. Then Leo spoke.
    “Your father frightened us at minyan.” He turned to Howard. “He looked like he might pass out.”
    “It was nothing,” Mort said, glancing at Leo then back to the water.
    “Maybe a little more than nothing,” Leo insisted. Again he looked Howard’s way. “His face was pale. His heart was pounding.”
    “You don’t know that,” Mort told Leo firmly but not unkindly. “My heart was fine the whole time. I just grew weary suddenly. Needed to sit.”
    “I don’t know,” Leo said. “Seems bigger to me. Pull it out of him, Howard.”
    But Howard didn’t say anything. Clearly, Mort didn’t want him involved. In fact he was deliberately ignoring him, Howard understood, staring out at the