One Last Thing Before I Go

of LCD screens showing a rolling blue surf on a white beach.
    The guests have all been given coral necklaces to wear over their blazers and dresses, and a specialty bar mixes Bahama Mamas and other rum-based island drinks. Silver has played functions like this a million times, to the point where he recognizes the steel pan players and the bartenders, the women sitting at a station in the corner putting beaded braids into the girls’ hair. It never fails to stupefy him, the things people will spend their hard-earned money on. Still, the Bahama Mamas are hitting the spot, and the buffet is first-rate, so, all things considered, he really can’t complain.
    He was reluctant to come along, had in fact flat-out refused when Ruben showed up at his apartment to shake him out of his bed and into the shower. “Come on,” he said, standing over his bed. “You promised me.”
    “No, I humored you.”
    “Same difference,” his father said, yanking the comforter off of him. “My God, this thing needs to be burned. Don’t you ever send anything out to be cleaned?”
    “I’m not feeling well,” Silver said, curling up into a ball.
    “My heart bleeds pink borscht for you,” Ruben said. It was a favorite expression of his, one he used repeatedly in sermons.
    “I need to sleep.”
    “You’ll sleep when you’re dead.”
    “Death jokes. Nice, Dad.”
    “When in Rome.”
    “Go away.”
    “Come on, it will be fun. You could stand to socialize a little bit.”
    “I won’t know anyone.”
    Ruben sat down on the edge of the bed to tie his shoe. “You’ll know Casey.”
    Silver opened his eyes and looked up at his father. “Casey’s coming?”
    “Apparently she used to babysit for the bat mitzvah girl.” He shrugged. “Small world.”
    Silver sits up, suddenly alert. “Does she know I’m coming?”
    “No. We can surprise her.”
    Silver thought about it for a moment. “I should probably take a shower.”
    Ruben smiled warmly. “I think that would be wise, yes.”
    * * *
    They ran into Casey almost immediately, who took one look at him, then rolled her eyes angrily at her grandfather and said, “Seriously?” before turning on her heel and walking away. And now Silver locates her on the dance floor, falling into step with the younger girls and the absurdly sexy dance motivators, tearing up the floor with “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” She grins widely, enjoying herself as she moves across the floor, slapping her heels and spinning around in step, taking great care to avoid any and all eye contact with Silver. For his part, he’s happy to see her smiling and dancing, even if there’s an ironic texture to her glee.
    There is no seat for him; he has crashed the event with his father and mother. But Ruben is almost constantly being drawn into conversations with his congregants, so Silver slides into his father’s seat, next to Elaine, who has pushed her chair back and is taking miserly sips of a colorful drink. She smiles at her son and moves her chair closer to his, so that she can lean against him.
    “What happened to your nose?” she says.
    “Rich punched me.”
    She gives him a stern look. “Well, someone was bound to.” Then she looks away, forcing herself to change the subject. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it,” she says, her eyes wandering the room. “I mean, what are they going to do for her sweet sixteen?”
    He looks at his mother, taking note of how the lines around her eyes now break off and descend in angled streaks down her once plump cheeks. Her lips are thinner than he remembers, as if years of pursing them have worn them down, and her hair, he realizes with a shock, is now completely silver, and he wonders when that happened.
    “What is it?” she says, noting his look.
    “You look older.”
    She is momentarily surprised by his candor, and her hand comes up to touch her face. “You try having you for a son.”
    “I’m sorry, Mom. For all of it.”
    She takes his hand. Her fingers are cold and damp from holding the drink. “You want to make it up to me? Live long enough to take care of me when I get really old.”
    Silver nods, and sits back in his chair.
    “You’re not going to really make me come to your funeral, are you?” she says. “Because I can tell you right now, if you let this happen, I will not come to watch them put you in the ground. I’ll go get my nails done. The list of things I wouldn’t do for you is pretty damn short, but that’s number one on it.”
    He rests