Dr. Rosen is sitting in a wheelchair near the hospital bed and talking into a cordless phone.
“Arnie?” blurts Monae. “Visitors. Christine’s police officer friends.” She reaches for Ceepak’s bagel bag. “Let me put those in the kitchen …”
She leaves and Dr. Rosen raises a hand to let us know he’ll be with us shortly.
The former dentist looks a little weary and shrunken as he slumps forward in his wheelchair. He’s wearing a navy blue Adidas jogging suit and Velcroed running shoes. His hair is white and neatly combed to the side. His upper lip sports a trim and very dignified mustache. There is an oxygen tank strapped into a hand trolley next to his wheelchair. Clear plastic tubing runs from the canister’s regulator valve up to a thin nosepiece jammed up into his nostrils.
“Michael?” Dr. Rosen says to the phone. “I have visitors. Exalted members of the local constabulary.”
He shoots us a wink. And I can tell, the guy might be ninety-four, but he’s still sharp, with it, and kind of funny.
“Okay, Dad,” says the voice on the speakerphone. “But seriously, call the guys at Best Buy. They’ll come over and install it for you.”
My eyes drift over to an adjoining room where I see the unopened cardboard carton for a Panasonic TC-P55ST50-their 3-D, high-def TV with a 55-inch-wide plasma screen. I also see unopened Amazon and Barnes and Noble boxes stacked on the couch. And on the floor.
“It’s a very generous gift, Michael,” says Dr. Rosen. “But …”
“No buts. I gave Best Buy my credit card number. They’ll hook up the satellite dish, too.”
Okay. Now I’m drooling like Homer Simpson in a doughnut factory.
“But,” says son Michael on the speakerphone, “the guys from Best Buy can’t do your exercises for you. Did Monae set up the recumbent bike?”
“Yes, Michael. She and Christine put it in my bedroom.”
“Good. It’s a Monark. Excellent for rehab patients.”
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“The girls did a Google on the bike. Did it really cost you twenty-six hundred dollars?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my accountant. I just told my people to get you the best low-impact exercise machine on the market because your doctors want you exercising.”
“But twenty-six hundred dollars …”
“Call it an early Father’s Day gift. Oh, here’s another one: I’m flying home to New Jersey next weekend!”
The expression on Dr. Rosen’s face?
I don’t think he’s looking forward to his son’s visit.