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Admissions Test |
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He’d expected that raggedy cacophony of caked dust, mildew and plastic food instead of the tart smell of ammonia. Sitting on the couch, he almost instantly wants to fall asleep. Each conspicuous second in this lime green cave with its faded, angular furniture and peeling lead-based paint makes Allen want to skip his meeting and run for the door. Instead, he stands up and wanders over to the bookshelf, thumbing through thoroughly outdated trade publications relating to the pulp industry with titles like Canada: The Last Frontier? He leans down a little farther and discovers an aged decanter filled with scotch. Curious, he touches the bottle and leaves a permanent fingerprint in his wake. He blows on the bottle, causing a short eddy of decaying skin follicles to fly up into his face. He rubs the excess dirt from under his nose and turns back towards the room, fixating on the sepia photographs on the walls. A stale black woman with ambitious wrists who is dressed in white enters from the kitchen and says, “Oh, he’s so excited to see you! He even shaved today because he knows that you’re here. He’ll be right out. We’re just finishing getting dressed.” The exuberance of her voice surprises him; he wanted her to be a short order cook. He nods and says thanks, resuming his seat on the couch, looking everywhere in the room except the wide-open door into the kitchen, with its too-clean linoleum floor and achingly florescent light. Leaning back, he spreads his legs in an attempt to make the couch appear more comfortable. From the next room, he can hear the chirping: “Oh, you look so handsome! He’s so excited to see you out there! This is going to be such a fun day!” Allen stands as Grandfather waddles into the room, right foot, left foot, while the nurse leans into the doorjamb, her eyes floundering between pity and prospect. He rushes towards Grandfather and lands his hand on Grandpa’s elbow, but Semyon neither wants nor needs moral support. He supports himself on the sloped armrest and lowers himself to seat level. Semyon looks at the empty seat next to him, the last remnants of the pigment in his blue eyes unsuccessfully trying to leave. “He shaved for you today, you know. He never shaves.” Allen takes the seat to the right of Semyon and says, “Hi, Grandpa.” Semyon’s lips part and some air escapes. He grimaces, still fully in control of his facial muscles and cross with himself. “I’m doing really good in school, Grandpa. If I keep it up, they tell me that I might be able to get into an Ivy League school, like Harvard or Yale or at least Penn.” The fading eyes commit the lines of Allen’s forehead to memory, the mouth still open, wisps of air flowing in. “I have a girlfriend, too. I really like her. Her name’s Larissa, and we’ve been going out for at least three or four months now, I’m not sure, but I really like her. I’d love it if you could meet her too.” The only time Allen remembers Semyon talking about women – he never talked about Allen’s Grandmother, Nana Kiska, who conceded years before Allen’s arrival – was the woman he met in Shanghai during the post-war years who refused to lay him because she was tired from working all day. A snare drum boasts its way from Semyon’s mouth, a sound completely unlike the raspy cough that usually substituted for speech. His head droops and he can only raise it enough so that the eyes can finish their topological map of Allen’s chin, itself a wobbling mass of poor bone structure and faint acne scars. “He’s very tired. I should put him back into bed. He used up all of his energy getting ready to see you,” the nurse walks to the couch and grabs Semyon bluntly by the arm, helping him to his feet. Semyon keeps his eyes trained on Allen’s, who notices that, while shaving, Semyon missed a spot right above his upper lip. The nurse starts to lead him back to the kitchen and Allen stands. Semyon has trouble walking backward and so he turns away from Allen, who waits until Semyon reaches the door before he says, “Bye, Grandpa. I love you. I’ll call soon.” Semyon turns around slowly and beckons Allen closer, supporting himself on the nurse. Allen approaches Grandfather slowly. When he reaches him, Semyon touches his arm and whistles something unintelligible through his teeth, tongue sticking out a little too far for Allen’s comfort. Allen hugs him lightly, not wanting to crumble the structure, when the nurse says, “Really, Mr. Pltokyin, you’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed for some rest.” Semyon turns back towards the kitchen and walks out of the room. Allen lets himself out, rides the elevator to the ground and finds a park with benches where he can sit. From his perch, he can see Grandpa’s apartment window but it’s too high up to see what’s going on inside. He exhales and turns his cell phone on, which chimes and tells him that he has four messages plus six text messages.
On the train back to school, he calls Larissa before he returns any of the messages. “Larissa, hey, what’s up? It’s Allen.” “I know that, silly. Think I don’t know your voice by now?” Allen: “You never know, you might have some other sexy suitor out there and I wouldn’t want you to get us confused.” Larissa: “Yeah, thanks for the concern. Hey, where are you today, anyway?” Allen: “I was in the city visiting Grandpa.” Larissa: “Oh, yeah. How was that?” Allen: “Ok, I guess. He’s not doing too good or anything.” Larissa: “Too well.” Allen: “Right, right, too well.” Larissa: “You really should pay attention to this stuff, you know. It’s important. How are you ever going to pass English and get into Harvard or wherever if you can’t even speak properly?” Allen: “I know, you’re right. Whatever. Hey, did you start working on the Bio homework yet?” Larissa: “Yeah, I did it this morning. It was pretty easy. Just one question on homeostasis that took a little while, but it wasn’t that hard. Just annoying.” Allen: “Oh, that’s good. I haven’t had a chance to get to any of that stuff yet.” Larissa: “I’m a little worried about my French test on Thursday. I haven’t had a chance to really start studying yet.” Allen: “Aren’t you getting like an A+ in that class?” Larissa: “Yeah, so? It’s not like they’re automatically going to give me another A. I still have to work for it.” Allen: “I guess that’s true. Did you hear about Tyler and Cassie?” Larissa: “You mean the break-up or how they got back together?” Allen: “They got back together?” Larissa: “Yeah, after they broke up last night because Tyler was such a jerk to Cassie-” Allen: “I heard that Cassie was being a total bitch to Ty.” Larissa: “Well, that’s just wrong. Tyler, like, he tried to feel Cassie up while they were watching a movie in the chapel and-” Allen: “I heard that Cassie slapped him and that’s why they broke up.” Larissa: “Stop interrupting me. It’s really rude, and I don’t appreciate it.” Allen: “Sorry.”
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