The Past Is a Grotesque Animal

[Joshua Bernstein]

February 1978

---

Valentine's Day expectations were decidedly inconsistent, Josh felt. In Elementary scoop you were supposed to bring cards for the whole class, but once Junior high began distributing cards to anyone you weren't romantically attracted to became feminine.

Instead you were expected to sneer about it with your friends (which of course he did) while also putting on a display for your girlfriend (which he had).

He had thought about making her a card, like Matt did for his girlfriend, but the last time he had made a card he has been in fifth grade and he'd made it with construction paper and macaroni.

He didn't think Bekah would be impressed.

"Why you're supposed to give her flowers and take her out to eat," his mother had chided when he had asked her advice. So he had bought flowers and also a book about famous women mathematicians and also made reservations at a restaurant his mother had suggested.

When he picked Bekah up he had hurriedly shoved the gifts at her. She giggled nervously and ran back inside to place them on the kitchen table before calling goodbye to her parents.


As they made their way down the stairs of the apartment building he hesitantly reached for her hand. She closed her fingers over his, and then they both looked away. Such physical contact was awkward for both of them, but they knew it was expected. Girlfriends and boyfriends held hands; if they didn't display some physical affection then they might just be friends.

Maybe.

If it was possible for girls and boys to be friends. There was conflicting information on that front.


"Uhhh. You...ahhh....dressed up. It looks nice." Josh mumbled. Although he wasn't attracted to her, not the way he was supposed to be. He just wanted to sit together and talk about politics, not kiss her or anything. But she did look nice in the blue and white dress she had picked out. Maybe if they spent enough time together thinking she looked nice would shift into wanting to kiss her.

She bit her lower lip and scratched the back of her neck with her free hand. "Thanks uhhh. You do, too."

Only he didn't think she really wanted to kiss him, either. Which was a bit of a relief, really; maybe it was possible to have a non-kissing romance. Maybe she would never be too upset he didn't want to, because she wanted the same kind of relationship he did.

His friends all really liked kissing their girlfriends, but he didn't think any of them ever thought about kissing men, either. He didn't want to ask. What if they said yes, and they liked kissing girls anyway? Then there would really be something wrong with him. Or maybe they would stop being his friend.

He wasn't sure which outcome would be worse.

As they walked their fingers loosened, and by the time they reached the restaurant their hands were decoupled.

Josh didn't notice.

[Joshua Bernstein]

February 14th 1979

---

Josh had looked forward to this day since he and Sean had finally stopped dancing around their attraction to one another. His very first Valentine's Day with Sean! He was sure that it would be nothing short of magical.

But then he just had to get the flu.

He'd been sick for the past three days, and although he kept praying that he would be well enough by The Day...that hadn't happened. He remained miserable, congested and shivering and aching all over. He'd used up every box of tissues in his dorm, but his roommate wasn't around for him to ask for more -- In fact, his roommate had very wisely vacated the dorms for the duration of Josh's plague -- and he was not going to call his parents and tell them. He didn't want them to bring him home, because he might get better.

And then he would have a date.

At first he didn't hear the soft knock on the door, too wrapped up in his aching head and his inflamed nasal passageways to really notice anything outside of himself. But the knocking persisted, and then a voice (muffled a bit, perhaps due to his illness) sounded in his head.

Josh? It's me, Sean.

Josh strained to raise his head over his covers, blinking crustily at the door. "Come in." He croaked, and whether Sean heard the verbal offer or overheard the mental echo he opened the door and stepped softly through, bearing a very large paper bag.

"I brought some soup and juice." His boyfriend held the bag aloft. "Don't get up. I'll serve you in bed."

Josh gave the other boy a grateful smile. Perhaps it wasn't the romantic date he'd envisioned, but he definitely had the Best Boyfriend in the World.

[Joshua Bernstein]

February 14th 1980

---

Valentine's Day was a day of romance and devotion and cuddling. For heterosexual couples this meant showering one another with affection in public.

Josh had spent the day deeply envious of his straight classmates. Flower bouquets delivered and carried about during classes, holding hands, kissing on the quad. All of these simple displays were denied to him while in public. There were places they could go, of course. Off campus places. And while sometimes he enjoyed going to gay affirming spaces, because he so badly wanted to just be safe and accepted while not hiding his relationship, sometimes he wanted to be able to have a typically Romantic night without having to seek safety.

Sometimes he and Sean went on dates in public, but then they had to be so very careful about their behavior and words. And he didn't want that on Valentine's Day, either.

Instead he and Sean had chosen to stay in for the evening. This was made all the easier by the fact that they lived together now, so there were no roommates or family members who needed to be distracted for the duration of their date.

Josh had borrowed a tablecloth from his mother (without asking her; he hoped he could get it back without her noticing) and ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant between his classes and their apartment. He'd picked it up on the way home. Sean had provided the candles, the floral centerpiece, and the dessert.

"Do you want to watch our movie later?" Josh asked hopefully after they had finished with dessert. Although he wasn't much interested in movies on his own, this one was special.

Sean smiled and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Of course, Slim. And we can provide our own finale."

Josh grinned in response. "I couldn't think of a better way to end the night."

[Joshua Bernstein]

Feb. 6 1978

---

In all his nearly 18 years of life, Joshua Bernstein had never experienced a snow day. Snow was an expected condition in the winter, no more worthy of shutting down schools than the rain.

The only attention he had paid to the local weather station warning of severe snowstorms was to exclaim indignantly about the homeless. His family regularly donated blankets, jackets and warm socks to the homeless come winter time, and with the promise of a snowstorm on the horizon they had done so again that weekend. It would negatively impact the homeless, because any extreme weather state would negatively impact the homeless.

But he hadn't thought it would impact him.

: "What do you mean we don't have school today?" He frowned over a grapefruit at his mother. She was puffing away at her cigarette, which he knew meant that she wasn't especially happy about this situation either.

"I hope they're wrong about the weather," She sighed, leaning against the table, her elbow weighting down the newspaper she was reading.

Talia scrunched her face up at the smoke. "If it's really that bad then why didn't daddy stay at home?"

Josh nodded in agreement. There had already been several snowstorms this year alone, and they had still gone to school.

Their mother shrugged expansively at the question. "If he needs to come home, he'll get home," She assured them. Although she said she wasn't concerned about the weather she still wouldn't allow them out of the house, to Josh's annoyance.

"But it's a snowday!" He whined. "I want to build snowmen!" He envisioned crafting snowmen on the sidewalk with Donald and Becca, perhaps giving them a sign or two to hold.

His mother shook her head firmly. "Absolutely not. Today is an indoor day."

Josh heaved a sigh of frustration and flopped onto the couch.

"Why don't you read a book?" His mother suggested gently as she turned on the television to the news. "Or study?"

Josh grumbled under his breath and stomped to his room, passing Talia on the way; she was hauling her fabrics and sewing machine into the living room.

At lunch time Matt called. "Dad isn't home yet?" He asked after everyone else in the family was accounted for. "I heard on the news people were being sent home..."

He confirmed that Buffalo was also experiencing an exceptionally difficult snowstorm. "I have food and water and blankets," He added before his mother could ask. "Stay warm!"

Josh stared out the kitchen window, watching the blur of snow tossed about by the wind. Although they were safe inside and lunch was warm -- tomato soup and grilled cheese, a household favorite -- he shivered. The outside world was blanketed in white; it was almost impossible to tell that a city was there at all. Only white and more white, in different formations and heights. Powerlines dipped low from the weight of snowflakes that individually were microscopic, the tops of cars could barely be seen.

After lunch all three of them huddled in the living room together. Talia sat on the floor,carefully tending to her latest sewing project. Josh was idly attempting to revise an essay due in a few weeks, but the television was a distraction. His mother smoked, and watched, but she didn’t say much, which was always a sign that she was worried.

Their father wasn't home in time for dinner. Talia devoured her stuffed cabbage rolls; Charlie only nibbled at hers. Josh didn't feel much like eating, either; her worry was contagious.

"He should have called," She muttered under her breath while they cleaned up after dinner. She washed the dishes in the sink, and Talia dried them. Josh began to put the leftovers away.

As he opened the refrigerator the lights flickered, and then they were plunged into darkness. The water from the tap continued to pour for several seconds, but then slowed to a drip.

Charlie's voice quavered as she turned the sink off. "I'm going to get the flashlights."

The Bernstein family kept several flashlights in the coat closet by the front door; they were rarely used, and Josh didn't think about them much anymore now that he didn't want them to practice shadow puppets with. But he was glad now that they had them.

His mother handed one to each of them. Each stream of light only illuminated directly in front of the person holding it, but this was better than nothing.

“Talia?” Charlie pulled open the drawer closest to the fridge, rummaging through until she found a solitary key attached to a peace sign keyring. “I need you to go check on Ms. Fermi.”

Ms. Fermi was an elderly woman who lived several doors down. She had neither married nor had children, and had always lived alone as far as Josh was aware. His family had looked out for her for as long as he could remember, making sure that she hadn’t fallen or that she didn’t need help with groceries or asking for repairs from the superintendent.

Talia accepted the key dutifully and slipped into the hallway.

Charlie sighed as her youngest child disappeared into the darkness. “Oh, boopkie.” She murmured, gesturing toward the hallway with her flashlight. “Help me fetch the extra blankets out of the linen closet.”

As he was the taller of the pair he pulled the blankets from the shelves while she shone her light into the cavernous dark. He carefully piled each blanket onto the floor, one on top of the other, until there was a tower of blankets.

“Where do you want to put them?” He asked.

Charlie stared a bit at the pile of blankets, gnawing her lower lip in thought. Finally she said, “Let’s take them into the living room. We can divvy them up once we know if Ms. Femi needs any or not.”

Josh nodded and grabbed a handful of blankets from the pile; his flashlight, tucked into trouser pockets, threw light onto the ceiling.

As they placed the blankets on the sofa a knock sounded at the door. Charlie and Josh exchanged a look; Talia wouldn’t knock. She hadn’t even locked the door behind her.

They hurried into the hallway together, opening the door with bated breath.

It was Becca.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernstein. Josh.” She scratched behind her ear nervously. “I’m sorry to bother, but neither of my parents came home and..and….”

“Come in, dear,” Charlie swept her son’s girlfriend into the apartment with one hand, shutting the door behind them. “Did you eat? I’m afraid I can’t warm up dinner, but I can’t imagine it’s gotten very cold yet, what with the fridge being off.”

“Dad isn’t back, either,” Josh offered. One hand swept the flashlight up to the cabinets while he fetched a plate, and then down to the drawers for flatware. “Did your parents call?”

“Mom called to say she was leaving the office but that was hours ago…” Becca sniffed, hands clasped in her lap.

Charlie placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, “We can call her office in the morning. Perhaps she wasn’t able to leave after all.”

Becca lifted her face to look the older woman in the eye. “Do you think the power will be back on by then?”

Charlie nodded certainly. “Of course.”

Josh arranged leftovers from dinner on the counter, filling up Becca’s plate. “They can’t leave us without power during a snowstorm.”

Unfortunately, they very well could. Snow drifts blocked the streets, piled so high that nobody could get through. No company was willing to send their electricians out to work in such conditions; even had there been access the snow would have hindered their operations, and the winds might have knocked the power out again anyway.


The storm continued unabated the next day. Nothing could be seen out the windows but a howling maelstrom of white. Talia lead Ms. Femi to the Bernstein’s apartment the next morning, and the group huddled together in the living room. They brought the blankets and pillows from the bedrooms to keep warm despite the lack of heating; food had to be eaten room temperature.

There was still no electricity, and so no word heard from any of the missing adults.

Although it was daytime the storm outside darkened the whole world; they couldn’t read or study or watch television.

And so they sang. They sang Shema Yisrael, and they sang Where Have All the Flowers Gone. They sang Dayeinu and they sang This Land Is Your Land. And still the storm blew on.

Two days after it had arrived the storm finally dissipated. Several hours later the electricity hummed back into existence. The world outside was a frozen wasteland -- and remained so for over a month.

But for now they were grateful for the return of heat and light.

“This calls for a warm meal,” Charlie announced, bouncing to her feet and heading towards the kitchen.

Ms. Femi shuffled after her, insisting that she ought to help while her hostess assured her that she could never accept the help of a guest.

Soon enough they all sat around the table sipping hot tea and dipping toasted bread into steaming chicken soup. While they were eating the phone began to ring insistently.

“Becca! It’s your mother, she and your father just arrived home and wanted to know if Josh knew where you were.”

Becca hurried to take the phone Mrs. Bernstein held out to her, assuring her parents that she was safe. Then she thanked her hosts and took her leave.

Charlie stared at the door after her, shoulders slumping.

“I wish--” Josh began, and then the door creaked open and Bobby Bernstein stepped through. He was dusted in snow from hat to brogues but was smiling as he set down his briefcase by the coatrack.

He shook the snow from his coat and hung it up and then pulled his family into a hug.

“I’m home.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Not long after this entry.



It was nearly nine o clock, but Josh had only just stuck his dinner in the microwave when an urgent rat-a-tat sounded from his front door. He frowned in puzzlement. He was expecting neither visitors nor packages (although packages would surely never be delivered so late!) and so he couldn't fathom who might be at his door.

Perhaps a family member had dropped by for an impromptu visit? But it was so unlike them to not even call! Did one of his friends need something and the phone couldn't do?

When he opened the door, however, the woman there was someone he didn't recognize.

"This is yours." She announced, shoving a letter in his face. "It was in our box."

Mail was delivered to the bottom floor, stuck into metal boxes near the entryway. Each resident had a key to their mailbox, so that nobody could abscond with someone else's mail.

Having a key did not prevent the mail carrier from occasionally stuffing a letter in the wrong box.

"Oh." Josh blinked, and then looked down at the letter. His name was unmistakable, as was Sean's return address.

"Thank you, ahhh...?"

"Trina." She pursed her lips and then looked him up and down. "You just moved in, didn't you?"

Josh nodded. "Yes. I'm Josh, by the way. Josh Bernstein. Do you want to come in..? I can put on coffee."

She waved a hand dismissively. "I gotta get back, Katy'll worry if I stay away too long. But stop on by tomorrow! We can have ya over for dinner. We're just down a floor, 203."

Josh's face lit up at this invitation. "What time should I be there?"

Trina stuck her tongue between her teeth as she mentally calculated. "You can come over around six. I'll let Katy'n'Davy know to expect you."

"I'll be there!" Josh promised and Trina smiled.

A new apartment, and now new friends.

Perhaps this was the fresh start he needed.

[Joshua Bernstein]

As soon as Josh closed the door the microwave beeped. He tucked the letter from Sean under one arm as he hurried back into the kitchen and flung open the microwave door. The smell of tomato bisque elicited a growl from his stomach, and he eagerly reached out to grab the bowl only to recoil moments later, shaking scalded fingers.

He scowled at the bowl before retreating into the main room of his loft. He settled down onto his couch, and then stared at the envelope for a long moment, running one hand along the familiar handwriting. How many years had this very handwriting been the same handwriting on his science notes, notes written after class specially for him by someone much better at the subject than he?

Now all his notes were in his own handwriting only.

A knot formed in his stomach at this thought.

Maybe he ought to find a study buddy, if this thought made him so sad. It shouldn't be that difficult.

He carefully slit open the top of the envelope while mentally cataloging his fellow law students. Who might want to study with him? What about Oxana? Maybe Heidi? Joseph? Tsuyoshi?

He reached into the envelope and tugged the letter out.

Maybe Simon, he always said hello when class started.

He smoothed out the letter before reading:

Dear Josh,

I hope law school is treating you well. Residency is going well for me, although hospital schedules remain taxing. I have Sunday off a week from now, and I was hoping to have the gang all together again. Greg already said yes.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,
Sean

Josh placed the letter on the arm of the couch and sighed heavily as he went to fetch his bisque.

He needed to start over, but he couldn't start over without Sean as his best friend.

And it would be difficult to remain friends when he couldn't even face the other man. So although he still felt guilty, he should go.


He was a terrible boyfriend, but he could be a not terrible best friend.

[Joshua Bernstein]

November 1976

---

Josh and Donald sprawled across the floor of Josh's room. A math book lay open in the space between them, and both boys had notebooks across their knees. The sheet of paper Josh was working on was covered in grey streaks, and his expression was one of enormous frustration.

"It isn't that hard." Donald offered, glancing over at his friend's work.

Josh grunted in annoyance. "Then explain it!"

"Nuh-uh! That's Becky's job!"

Josh narrowed his eyes at the other boy. "She's my girlfriend, not my tutor."

Donald's pen flew across his page, leaving a trail of confident numbers and symbols in its wake. "Did you ever kiss her again?"

"She didn't want me to!" Josh reminded Donald, sighing and erasing yet another digit.

"Because it was in the hallway at school. Come on, Josh, you can kiss her other places. On the subway, in your room, in her room...."

"My parents won't let her come into my room!" Josh exclaimed, aghast at this suggestion. His mother very much wanted him to kiss girls, but bedrooms were not co-ed.

"If you aren't kissing her she isn't much of a girlfriend." Donald shrugged. "She's my friend, and I don't kiss her, but if she was my girlfriend I sure would."

"You have your own girlfriend." Josh snapped his notebook shut for emphasis. "I need a break, all these numbers are starting to look the same. Let's see if mom's got the cookies out of the oven yet."

Donald accepted this change of topic by shifting his own notebook off his lap and onto the floor beside him. "Mmmm. I'll never say no to cookies," He agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Josh smiled as he lead his friend into the hallway. "Mo~m! Can Donald and I have a snack?"

[Joshua Bernstein]

July 19th 1981

---

Atlantic City had once been a grand place to visit, or so the history books said. Much of it was desolate now, although the introduction of casinos had given it a resurgence. Not enough of a resurgence for it to compete with New York City, but then what could compete with The City?

Josh had little interest in gambling, but he also had barely seen Donald over the course of college, and so when his high school best friend had asked if he wanted to come, he had said yes.

He had reluctantly left Sean's side for this venture, but not an hour into the trip and he already missed his boyfriend. Worse, Donald wasn't even as much fun as he remembered. Instead his friend spent the entire time complaining about women:

About how his string of ex-girlfriends were all crazy. Christina had broken up with him for no reason, and Ruth had been friends with her ex-boyfriend and so couldn't be trusted, and Leslie had stopped talking to him for no reason. And all the girls he wanted to date, well, he didn't seem to like them very much, either, because Sue didn't have the guts to tell him she wasn't interested and had let him hang around her for months before he found out she liked someone else, and Tangela didn't realize that not many other guys would like a girl who wore so much makeup, and Stella was a little chubby but he could overlook that.

But he still cared about anti-violence causes, and he hated Reagan, and he thought that war and capitalism were destroying America and America was taking the rest of the world with it.

And when those topics came up, Josh chimed in with vehement agreement. But when girlfriends came up he felt increasingly uncomfortable, and when Donald asked about his own love life he remembered several years ago when the other young man had told him that Bekah was too pretty to be a lesbian.

Josh swallowed and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "I'm enjoying not having a girlfriend."

Which was not, exactly, a lie.

When they were in middle and high school he hadn't told Donald because he didn't want to face his friend's disgust. But now he wasn't sure that disgust would be the end of this.

"Oh. Hey, there's a tattoo parlor. I always wanted a tattoo."

Tattoo parlors were illegal in The City.

"I think I'll get one, too," Donald agreed, following Josh towards the neon signs that marked the parlor. "Best friends gotta stick together."


But the whole time he was in the chair Josh thought and thought of excuses to go home early.

And he knew he wouldn't say yes next time Donald wanted to meet him.

[Joshua Bernstein]

November 1978

---

Light spilled across his notebook from his desk lamp. Beside the notebook was a stack of blank index cards; he occasionally chewed the end of his pen before scribbling terms across each card, then placing the newly created flashcard in a pile at the top of his notebook.

"Adrenergic, afferent, agonist," He muttered under his breath. "Ugh, why did I sign up for anatomy?"

He didn't look up as the door to the dorm creaked open.

"Alaeque, albuginea, allantois..."

"Hey."

The greeting, however, gave the freshman pause; he and his roommate rarely spoke.

"Yeah?" He asked cautiously, swiveling in his chair to face the other youth.

"That girl you hang out with, the senior, what's her name?"

"Daphne?"

There were other women among The Radicals, but he spent the most time with Daphne.

"Is that her name?" Aaron flung himself onto his bed. "She's so foxy. Can you introduce us?"

Josh scrunched up his face as he tried to imagine cool, smart, passionate Daphne interacting with his womanizing roommate. "Suuuuuure." He drew out the syllables in uncertainty, but Aaron didn't seem to notice.

"Right on! Tomorrow?"

"Ahhh...well...you can come to our protest meeting if you really want..."


"Yessss. Foxy free lovin' hippie girls!" Aaron exclaimed with so much glee that Josh was sure he was going to regret this offer later.

But he gave the other boy a pained smile before turning back to his flashcards. "Keen."

Daphne was going to be thrilled.

[Joshua Bernstein]

October 5th 1979

---

Josh propped his chin in one hand, the other tapping against his glass of water. Although he wouldn't have sought out jazz music on his own he had to admit that the beat was infectious; if Sean had been a dancer he would have dragged his boyfriend out onto the dance floor.

Most of the clientele were other gay men, which was a relief. He would have agreed to support Dwayne's band either way, but he treasured each moment he didn't have to pretend he was straight.

"So do they have any recordings?" Daphne leaned across the table to address Harvey.

He shook his head ruefully, his earring flashing in the light. "Recording equipment and studios cost too much. But live gigs aren't too shabby."

Mike slung one arm around Harvey's shoulder with a smile. "We could raise them the money. Bake sale, anyone?"

Beside Daphne Agatha raised a critical eyebrow, and Daphne laughed.

"Who would buy baked goods from you?"

"I would!" Josh offered. "Especially for a good cause."

Harvey sighed in exasperation.

"It was a serious suggestion!" Mike looked hurt at this dismissal.

"I would buy your baked goods," Josh repeated. "Those brownies you brought to the last meeting were ace." He gave the other sophomore a thumbs up for emphasis.

"Don't look so sour," Harvey tapped his boyfriend on the nose. "Come on, let's show Dwayne how much we love their music."

Mike allowed himself to be dragged out onto the dance floor.

"We should do that." Josh commented, but Sean shook his head. "You know I don't dance."

Daphne stood, and held out a hand to Josh, "But I do."

Josh grinned and grabbed her hand. "But I'm still saving the last dance for you, Sean!" He called as he was lead out onto the dance floor.

[Joshua Bernstein]

December 1975

---

Josh had always done well in school. Math and science had been a bit of a struggle, but a struggle meant that he made Bs with copious amounts of studying rather than the straight As he wanted.

Home Ec was neither a math nor a science, and so he had been filled with confidence. He would do well in this class, because he always did well in his classes. He had chosen a seat up front, because that was where the Responsible, Good students sat, and despite the fact that he and his best friend were known to sneak a joint now and then, he was a Responsible, Good student.

What he had not realized was that Home Ec used math.

He had difficulty following the patterns during sewing sessions. He couldn't quite figure out where to place his fabric on the machine, and he couldn't seem to thread a needle without poking his thumb repeatedly, and figuring out which part of the pattern to cut on and which was extra from a different size was nearly impossible.

He had difficulty following the recipes during cooking sessions. He confused teaspoons and tablespoons, and he could never seem to fill up to exactly the line when using measuring cups, and he had no idea how to even begin estimating what a pinch out to be, and it took him so long to get all his ingredients stirred together that when whipping he ended up making his cream too stiff.

By the end of the first semester he didn't understand any better than he had the first day, and for the first time in his life he was dreading finals.

[Joshua Bernstein]

July 21st 1981

---

Their trip together had been noticeably strained. The Josh that Donald remembered was more enthusiastic, an eternal chatterbox. Since college they had largely communicated over the telephone; he hadn't noticed any difference then.

But since this trip together his friend seemed different, somehow. Each discussion of girlfriends saw the other youth clam up, shoulders hunching defensively. He had wished for a friendship that would last forever, the sort of childhood friendships one saw on television.

They had grown up together, but it was clear that college had seen them grow apart.

The only topic that did bring out Josh's enthusiasm was his roommate, and Donald had, over the course of the last several days, slowly pieced things together. Little details from high school fell into place, harmless details he had shrugged off as his friend being overly focused on politics:

His and Beckah's disinterest in more than holding hands, his admiration for Rock Hudson, the fact that he had deflected on topics related to girls and girlfriends from middle school up until the present. He was twenty one, but he hadn't had a girlfriend since high school. He hadn't ever so much as mentioned a girl he might have been interested in.

But he had brought up Sean Freshman year.

And he continued to bring up Sean, and all his wonderful attributes all these years later.

And when they said goodbye, he could tell that Josh was relieved to be going; the other man had never been very good at hiding his emotions.

And although Josh said "See you around!" Donald knew that this was the last goodbye.

[Joshua Bernstein]

1966

---

Mrs. Bernstein cradled the phone receiver against her ear. "Yes, chicken pox. I'm very sorry, but since he had a playdate with Mitchell over the weekend I wanted to be sure you knew."

Josh huddled miserably on the sofa, covered in a mound of blankets. He itched all over, but each time he tried to scratch his mother placed a hand against his and gave him a stern look.

He whimpered and slouched further into the blankets. From the other room Talia began to cry, a sign that she had awakened from her nap.

His mother sighed, "I have to go, Talia'll be ready for a snack. Trying to keep her away from Josh has been a nightmare."

There was a pause, and then she added, "Mmm. Yes, you too! Take care."

She brushed a hand against his forehead as she passed. "I'll bring you some soup once I've fed your sister," She whispered, "So close your eyes and get some rest."

[Joshua Bernstein]

May 29th 1965

---

His mother was in the hospital. She was supposed to come home on Monday, but that was two whole days away!

He missed her.

He missed her despite the fact that he had been surrounded by people nearly the entire time. He wasn't allowed to come with his father to the hospital to see her, and so he and Matt had bounced around between different families. His babysitter, Shulamit, had helped out some, and Ms. Fermi from down the hall.

Today after Shul he and Matt had gone home with the Jodorowskys, whose daughter Dawn was the same age as Josh. Although Mrs. Jodorowsky's cholent included zucchini in it, Josh's initial skepticism was proved unfounded; while she wasn't his mother, her cooking was not too bad after all.

Matt ate half a bowl, and then asked to be excused.

Josh asked for seconds.

[Joshua Bernstein]

May 1983

---

He cut his hair short.

"I like it," Sean told him. Josh wasn't so sure.

His parents had given him money to buy a suit. "A nice one," His mother had emphasized. "You get it tailored if you have to."

He stood in the mirror and stared at his reflection uncertainly. He had stopped shaving, because he thought facial hair would make him look older, but he had yet to grow anything more than a five o clock shadow. He felt like a little kid in his daddy's suit, except that this suit was tailored to fit him.

"You'll do fine," Sean assured him when he expressed doubts about this interview. He wanted to believe this, wanted confidence that he would land a summer internship. But his grades had been so poor lately. He had only acquired his baccalaureate by the skin of his teeth, and this was a circumstance that had never happened to him before. He didn't know how to cope with that.


He didn't know how he was going to acquire his J.D. when he could barely pass basic, core classes.

Who did he think he was fooling? The interviewer would know he was a fraud.

He could feel anxiety well up within him as the date of the interview crept closer and closer.

He felt anxiety during the interview itself.

And when he was rejected from his first interview his mother said, "Don't worry, there are plenty more firms." And he knew, because he had put in applications at all of them, and had more interviews lined up.

But he also knew another thing:

He needed to improve his grades or his dream would be over before it even started.