Night at the Museum. Leslie Goldman
the elevator and knocked on the door. Erica let him inside. She already looked upset. “Hi,” she said shortly.
Looking around, Larry realized that Erica’s apartment was the exact opposite of his. It was enormous. It was clean. It had nice furniture. It had amazing views of the city. And it was paid for.
“I’m sorry, Erica,” said Larry. “I was about to get him, but they put a boot on my car and—”
“You didn’t pay your parking tickets?” asked Erica. She didn’t sound surprised, which was kind of upsetting for Larry. It was almost like she expected him to fail. And was that fair? Just because he’d failed so many times before?
“No, the meter maid had it out for me,” said Larry. “So…did Nick…not want me at Career Day?”
Erica sighed. “He’s just a kid, Larry.”
Just then Don walked into the room. As usual, he was dressed in a dark fancy suit. Attached to his belt were lots of gadgets—a cell phone, a BlackBerry, and a digital camera.
“There he is! Great to see you,” Don said to Larry.
“Great to see you, too, Don,” said Larry.
They shook hands. Both were quiet, after that, because they’d already run out of things to talk about.
“I’ll go tell the little corn on the cob you’re here,” said Don as he headed down the hall.
“Your fiancé really manages to squeeze a lot of stuff onto that belt,” Larry observed, totally innocently.
“Larry, stop it,” said Erica.
“No, it’s cool. He’s like the Batman of stockbrokers,” said Larry.
“Bond traders,” Erica said. “He’s a terrific guy and he loves your son. So, what’s happening with the restaurant? Did you get your investors?”
“Yeah. No. Um, there were some problems. So I don’t think it’s going to happen. It’s fine. I have other irons in the fire,” said Larry.
“Uh-huh,” said Erica.
Larry bristled. “‘Uh-huh’?” he asked. “What does ‘Uh-huh’ mean?”
“Larry, come on, we’ve been through this a million times. When problems come up, you just seem to…bail,” said Erica.
“I’m not bailing. I… opening a restaurant is very complicated. It just didn’t work out.” Rather than argue, Larry changed the subject. “You think Nick would like Queens? I might try to find a place out there. Little more space, maybe an above-ground pool.”
“You’re getting evicted again?” asked Erica. She’d heard this story before. She didn’t want to hear it, again. “Larry, I don’t know how much more of this Nick can take. Every few months you’ve got a new apartment, a new career. If Nicky wasn’t involved, I wouldn’t care, but this instability…it’s bad for him.”
“Well, I’m trying to figure things out,” said Larry.
“I hope so, Larry. I’m just…I’m not sure Nick should stay with you until you get settled.”
Larry felt his heart sink. Erica sure knew how to crush a guy.
“Really?” he asked sadly.
Erica frowned as she tried to explain. “He gets attached to one place, then in a couple of months, it’s gone. It doesn’t seem fair.”
As Larry thought about this, he noticed Nick standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Dad,” said Nick.
Seeing his son made Larry feel so much better. “Hey, buddy! You ready to carve it up?” he asked.
A little while later, they were in Wollman Rink in Central Park, at Nick’s ice hockey game.
Nick skated toward the goal, pushing the puck forward. He glided across the ice quickly.
Larry cheered him on from the sidelines. “There you go, baby! Breakaway!” He was yelling more loudly than any of the other parents.
Nick pulled back his stick and took a slap shot. The puck went wide, missing the goal by a foot. Even worse, Nick lost his balance and fell.
Panicked, Larry ran out to the ice, slipping and sliding all the way over to his son.
“Nick? Nicky? You okay?” he screamed.
Nick was so embarrassed. “Dad, I’m fine. Will you get off the ice?”
Larry looked around. The game had stopped and everyone was watching him. Before he left, he leaned in close and whispered some advice. “Their left defenseman can’t skate for crap. You work that side, you got an open shot to the goal.”
Nick grinned at his dad. “Cool, thanks.”
Larry looked out to Nick’s teammates and said, “As you were, skaters! We’re good over here.”
After he helped Nick stand up, Larry headed back to the sidelines.
Well, thought Larry, I may not be good at opening restaurants or inventing things or paying my bills, but at least I give good advice when it comes to Little League ice hockey. Too bad I can’t turn that into a career!
Later that afternoon, Nick and Larry walked home through the park.
“You tore it up out there, dude. You keep working on that slap shot. I’m thinking the NHL is a serious possibility,” said Larry.
“Yeah,” said Nick. “I don’t really want to be a hockey player anymore.”
“All right, so what do you want to be?” asked Larry.
“A bond trader,” Nick replied.
Larry looked at his son. He hoped Nick was kidding. Sadly, this didn’t seem to be the case. “And where’d you get that idea?” he asked. “Reading bond trader comic books?”
“Don took me to his office on Wall Street last week,” said Nick.
Larry nodded. “Uh-huh, that’s cool. So, what? You want to dress up in a monkey suit and tie, sit in a cubicle all your life? Trust me, you can’t play hockey in a cubicle.”
“He’s got a pretty big office,” Nick said.
“That’s not the point. I thought you loved hockey,” said Larry.
“I still like it, but bond trading is my fallback,” Nick explained.
“Your fallback?” Larry could hardly believe his ears. “You’re too young to have a fallback. Where did you even hear that word?”
“Mom was talking to Don about all your different schemes.”
“She called them schemes?” asked Larry.
“She said it was time you found a fallback.” When Larry didn’t respond, Nick asked, “Are you really moving again?”
“We’ll see,” said Larry. “There are some pretty cool places out in Queens.”
“Isn’t that kind of far?” Nick looked up at his dad. “I thought your restaurant is in the city.”
“Yeah, that’s on hold right now,” said Larry. “But maybe I could open one out there.”
Nick shrugged. He looked down at the ground and kicked a small rock. “I guess so.”
It was obvious to both of them that Nick didn’t believe his dad for a second.
“Hey,” said Larry. “Hey, I want to tell you something. I