"The Outsiders" 25
A quiet lunch at Papagano's.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, July 1979
"You're late," Ron snapped. He was nervous and irritable, and sitting for 30 minutes at a table in the middle of the busy Papagano dining room while the prissy waiter hovered over him, urging him to order, wasn't his favorite thing in the world.
"Sorry," said Max as he seated himself across from his father. He sounded a little contrite -- but not much.
"Where's your sister?" Ron looked over at the door, expecting to see Hannah appear.
"Not coming," Max said shortly.
Ron blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said -- that she's not coming to lunch." Max picked up his menu. He had hoped to make this meal painless, but now that Hannah had bailed on him, that was going to be impossible.
"Doesn't she know this is important?" Ron demanded. "I canceled a meeting with major contributor in order to have lunch with you two and then she doesn't show up! What the hell is that all about?"
It wasn't strictly true that Ron had canceled a meeting, but he had rearranged his schedule at the Prisoners' Legal Defense to fit in this lunch and, to Ron's mind, that was practically the same thing.
"I guess you'll have to take it up with her, Dad," said Max. He motioned to the waiter. "Can I get a drink over here?"
"Certainly, sir," said the waiter, his pencil poised over his pad. "What may I get for you?"
"Scotch and soda. On the rocks," said Max, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Make it a double."
"And you, sir?" the waiter turned to Ron.
"A glass of your house white," he said, never taking his eyes off his son. Max generally took after Jane's side of the family, but he had Ron's piercing blue eyes. Looking at them was like looking into a mirror.
"Very good, gentlemen," said the waiter. "I'll be back to take your orders in a few minutes."
"Since when do you drink scotch?" Ron asked when the waiter had left the table.
"I'm 25 years old, Dad, in case you've forgotten," Max reminded him. "I'm allowed to drink now, just like a big boy."
"I haven't forgotten," Ron returned. "Double scotch, huh? You think you're a tough guy? You don't know the meaning of the word!"
"No, I don't think I'm a tough guy," said Max defiantly. But he was beginning to waver. It was hard to keep up a strong front against his father. Damn that Hannah! If she had only shown up then they could stand together. But she'd wimped out. The bitch! "But I had a hard morning and I want a drink, okay?"
Ron backed off. He and Max rarely had any time alone together and he didn't want to ruin this chance for them to talk. His son had only been a boy when Ron was sent to prison and by the time he got out Max had already finished with college and was working on his MBA at Wharton in Philadelphia.
Ron gazed at Max and knew they were virtually strangers. That got to Ron. Max was much closer to his Uncle Hy -- Jane's older brother -- than he was to his own father. In fact, he'd followed in his uncle's footsteps at Wharton and was now working in Hy's accounting firm.
"Your uncle isn't riding you too hard, is he?" Hy could be a bastard. Ron knew that from personal experience.
Max shrugged. The waiter brought their drinks and Max took a much-needed sip of his scotch and soda. "Sometimes. He wants me to learn the business from the bottom up, and that means everyone dumps the shit work on me. But he's fair. He's taken good care of me over the years."
Ron winced. Max's unspoken words were that Ron should have been there during those years, taking care of his son. And all of his family. But instead he was in the Quad.
"I'm sorry, Max," Ron said softly. "I wish things had been different."
"But they weren't different, were they?" Max said more forcefully than he'd intended. He took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. "But that's all in the past. I've got my future all mapped out and so does Hannah. She's leaving for Georgetown in a couple of weeks. She's already rented an apartment."
Ron nodded. "She'll do well in law school. She's got a mind like a man."
Max laughed. "She'd jump on you for that male chauvinist pig remark, Dad! Hannah's a real hardcore feminist these days."
The waiter came and took their lunch orders -- a steak for Ron and the fettucini for Max.
"So, what's this all about?" Max asked. He knew that his father had something to tell him. The last time he'd taken him and his sister to lunch was when he'd told them that he was getting remarried. To that blonde bimbo whose son he'd gotten out of prison. The one who'd broken up his parents' marriage.
"I..." Ron hesitated. He wasn't certain how to say this. But he had to. Best to plunge right in. "Jennifer is pregnant. If all goes well, you and Hannah are going to have a little brother or sister in January."
Max stared at his father. "Shit!"
"Yes," Ron agreed. "That was my reaction, too. But what's done is done. Jenn is very happy about it."
"But... but what about me and Hannah?" Max gulped. Yeah, what about our inheritance? he thought.
"What about you and Hannah?" Ron took a sip of his wine. Then another. Maybe he should have gotten a double scotch, too. "If you're worried about the trust fund from your grandparents this won't affect that at all. You and your sister will still get your allowances quarterly. Although you should be making good money at Hy's firm very soon -- if you work hard and keep your nose clean. The same with Hannah. I have no doubt that you'll both be successful -- you're my children after all."
"I can't believe you'd have a kid with that... that fucking shiksa!" Max bleated. His eyes looked blue and icy as he glared at his father.
"That's enough!" Ron ordered. "She's my wife and this baby will be your brother or sister. I expect you to treat them both with respect at all times! Do you hear me, Max?"
"I hear you," Max said sullenly. He bolted down the rest of scotch and soda. Courage in a glass. "Mom was right. You really WILL fuck anything!"
"What the hell does THAT mean?" Ron's face flushed red with fury.
"You think I don't know that you were fucking that skinny faggot in prison? That Brian Kinney!" Max said heatedly. "Now he's out and you're probably still fucking him! Does your new wife know about THAT, Dad? What does she think about it?"
"Shut the fuck up!" said Ron, dangerously. "You don't know anything about Brian! And you can't even conceive of what he and I went through in Stanton. So keep your trap shut about something you can never understand!"
"Oh, I understand," Max exclaimed. "You can have your cake and eat it, too. You get to call the shots and have whatever you want, whenever you want! Because you're Ron Rosenblum and you know all the angles! Well, I think you're a fucking closet case, Dad! You and that Brian are all that matters to you! And knocking up some blonde slut isn't going to 'prove' that you're a real man! No fucking way!"
Their waiter rushed over to the table. "Please, gentlemen! Could you keep your voices down?"
"I'll do better than that," said Ron, standing up. He turned to the waiter, whose eyes were wide. "I'm leaving. My son here will cover the check for lunch."
Max flinched. He tried to remember how much cash he had in his wallet. Papagano's was the most expensive restaurant in town, even at lunch. He'd hate to have to call Uncle Hy to send some money to pay for this fiasco.
"I'll see you, Max," said Ron. "Maybe when you grow up and learn a few things about life. Then we'll see. It'll be my treat."
"Fuck you, Dad," Max said under his breath.
"And fuck you, too, son," said Ron. "Give you sister and your mother my love."
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, July 1979
"You're late," Ron snapped. He was nervous and irritable, and sitting for 30 minutes at a table in the middle of the busy Papagano dining room while the prissy waiter hovered over him, urging him to order, wasn't his favorite thing in the world.
"Sorry," said Max as he seated himself across from his father. He sounded a little contrite -- but not much.
"Where's your sister?" Ron looked over at the door, expecting to see Hannah appear.
"Not coming," Max said shortly.
Ron blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said -- that she's not coming to lunch." Max picked up his menu. He had hoped to make this meal painless, but now that Hannah had bailed on him, that was going to be impossible.
"Doesn't she know this is important?" Ron demanded. "I canceled a meeting with major contributor in order to have lunch with you two and then she doesn't show up! What the hell is that all about?"
It wasn't strictly true that Ron had canceled a meeting, but he had rearranged his schedule at the Prisoners' Legal Defense to fit in this lunch and, to Ron's mind, that was practically the same thing.
"I guess you'll have to take it up with her, Dad," said Max. He motioned to the waiter. "Can I get a drink over here?"
"Certainly, sir," said the waiter, his pencil poised over his pad. "What may I get for you?"
"Scotch and soda. On the rocks," said Max, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Make it a double."
"And you, sir?" the waiter turned to Ron.
"A glass of your house white," he said, never taking his eyes off his son. Max generally took after Jane's side of the family, but he had Ron's piercing blue eyes. Looking at them was like looking into a mirror.
"Very good, gentlemen," said the waiter. "I'll be back to take your orders in a few minutes."
"Since when do you drink scotch?" Ron asked when the waiter had left the table.
"I'm 25 years old, Dad, in case you've forgotten," Max reminded him. "I'm allowed to drink now, just like a big boy."
"I haven't forgotten," Ron returned. "Double scotch, huh? You think you're a tough guy? You don't know the meaning of the word!"
"No, I don't think I'm a tough guy," said Max defiantly. But he was beginning to waver. It was hard to keep up a strong front against his father. Damn that Hannah! If she had only shown up then they could stand together. But she'd wimped out. The bitch! "But I had a hard morning and I want a drink, okay?"
Ron backed off. He and Max rarely had any time alone together and he didn't want to ruin this chance for them to talk. His son had only been a boy when Ron was sent to prison and by the time he got out Max had already finished with college and was working on his MBA at Wharton in Philadelphia.
Ron gazed at Max and knew they were virtually strangers. That got to Ron. Max was much closer to his Uncle Hy -- Jane's older brother -- than he was to his own father. In fact, he'd followed in his uncle's footsteps at Wharton and was now working in Hy's accounting firm.
"Your uncle isn't riding you too hard, is he?" Hy could be a bastard. Ron knew that from personal experience.
Max shrugged. The waiter brought their drinks and Max took a much-needed sip of his scotch and soda. "Sometimes. He wants me to learn the business from the bottom up, and that means everyone dumps the shit work on me. But he's fair. He's taken good care of me over the years."
Ron winced. Max's unspoken words were that Ron should have been there during those years, taking care of his son. And all of his family. But instead he was in the Quad.
"I'm sorry, Max," Ron said softly. "I wish things had been different."
"But they weren't different, were they?" Max said more forcefully than he'd intended. He took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. "But that's all in the past. I've got my future all mapped out and so does Hannah. She's leaving for Georgetown in a couple of weeks. She's already rented an apartment."
Ron nodded. "She'll do well in law school. She's got a mind like a man."
Max laughed. "She'd jump on you for that male chauvinist pig remark, Dad! Hannah's a real hardcore feminist these days."
The waiter came and took their lunch orders -- a steak for Ron and the fettucini for Max.
"So, what's this all about?" Max asked. He knew that his father had something to tell him. The last time he'd taken him and his sister to lunch was when he'd told them that he was getting remarried. To that blonde bimbo whose son he'd gotten out of prison. The one who'd broken up his parents' marriage.
"I..." Ron hesitated. He wasn't certain how to say this. But he had to. Best to plunge right in. "Jennifer is pregnant. If all goes well, you and Hannah are going to have a little brother or sister in January."
Max stared at his father. "Shit!"
"Yes," Ron agreed. "That was my reaction, too. But what's done is done. Jenn is very happy about it."
"But... but what about me and Hannah?" Max gulped. Yeah, what about our inheritance? he thought.
"What about you and Hannah?" Ron took a sip of his wine. Then another. Maybe he should have gotten a double scotch, too. "If you're worried about the trust fund from your grandparents this won't affect that at all. You and your sister will still get your allowances quarterly. Although you should be making good money at Hy's firm very soon -- if you work hard and keep your nose clean. The same with Hannah. I have no doubt that you'll both be successful -- you're my children after all."
"I can't believe you'd have a kid with that... that fucking shiksa!" Max bleated. His eyes looked blue and icy as he glared at his father.
"That's enough!" Ron ordered. "She's my wife and this baby will be your brother or sister. I expect you to treat them both with respect at all times! Do you hear me, Max?"
"I hear you," Max said sullenly. He bolted down the rest of scotch and soda. Courage in a glass. "Mom was right. You really WILL fuck anything!"
"What the hell does THAT mean?" Ron's face flushed red with fury.
"You think I don't know that you were fucking that skinny faggot in prison? That Brian Kinney!" Max said heatedly. "Now he's out and you're probably still fucking him! Does your new wife know about THAT, Dad? What does she think about it?"
"Shut the fuck up!" said Ron, dangerously. "You don't know anything about Brian! And you can't even conceive of what he and I went through in Stanton. So keep your trap shut about something you can never understand!"
"Oh, I understand," Max exclaimed. "You can have your cake and eat it, too. You get to call the shots and have whatever you want, whenever you want! Because you're Ron Rosenblum and you know all the angles! Well, I think you're a fucking closet case, Dad! You and that Brian are all that matters to you! And knocking up some blonde slut isn't going to 'prove' that you're a real man! No fucking way!"
Their waiter rushed over to the table. "Please, gentlemen! Could you keep your voices down?"
"I'll do better than that," said Ron, standing up. He turned to the waiter, whose eyes were wide. "I'm leaving. My son here will cover the check for lunch."
Max flinched. He tried to remember how much cash he had in his wallet. Papagano's was the most expensive restaurant in town, even at lunch. He'd hate to have to call Uncle Hy to send some money to pay for this fiasco.
"I'll see you, Max," said Ron. "Maybe when you grow up and learn a few things about life. Then we'll see. It'll be my treat."
"Fuck you, Dad," Max said under his breath.
"And fuck you, too, son," said Ron. "Give you sister and your mother my love."