This Is How I Disappear

It was difficult to convince Gerard I didn’t need to shave my legs, but I wasn’t budging on this point, so Gerard relented, grumbling. “Okay,” he says now in a whisper. “Act like an old woman.”
I glare at him.
“Shouldn’t be too hard for you,” he can’t resist adding.
I smack him with my purse, and he bites back a smirk as he hobbles around the corner in view of the cops. As I follow Gerard’s lead, I notice one cop nudge the other in the corner of my eye. That one lifts binoculars, and I mask my consternation by shuffling up next to Gerard.
“They’re watching us,” I whisper to him, and to my horror, he swings his head around to stare right at the cops. He squints, then says to me in a voice meant to sound like an old man, “I’m going to go see what they want.”
I clutch his arm and glance at the cops. “No, don’t do that!”
He turns to face me and touches my arm, electrifying even though he currently looks so old. “Stay right here, Helena. I’ll sort this out.”
“Don’t you—” I warn, but he’s already limping across the street. The cops pretend to not see him, drinking their coffee and hastily starting a conversation.
“Hey!” Gerard shouts, banging his cane against the drivers’ side door. I think I suffer a heart attack at this moment.
The cops exchange weary looks before the driver rolls down his window. “Yes?” the undercover policeman asks innocently.
“What kind of creeps are you?” Gerard yells in his strained elderly voice. “My wife and I come to see our grandson for dinner and then some weirdos start spying on us?! I’ll call the cops on you! I will!” He starts to turn around as if to follow up on his threat.
“Excuse me, sir,” the driver calls Gerard back.
From across the street where I stand gripping my purse in worry, I can’t hear what the officers are saying to Gerard, but I can clearly hear his loud response.
“Let me see that,” he demands, leaning closer to the cops. I suck in a breath, sure they’ll see the make-up or a hair will come loose from under his hat. “Well in my day, police were in police cars, not lurking and spying on random people! You scared my wife! See, over there,” he says, pointing. “That’s my wife. You owe her an apology!”
I lift my head a little in acknowledgement, but don’t speak.
The cops exchange another tired glance before the driver leans out the window to call out, “Sorry, ma’am.”
I nod cautiously as Gerard hobbles back to my side. The whole time, he’s huffing and muttering unintelligible things.
“Let’s go inside already,” I beg with a last wary glance at the officers. We shuffle along to the door and look at the name placards with intercoms next to them. I spot the one labelled Mikey Way, but Gerard presses the one just above it. Nothing. He pushes it again. Just before he tries a third time, a woman’s voice says, “Hello? Who is this?”
“Oh, hello,” Gerard replies in his fake voice. “We’re very sorry to bother you, but my wife and I came to visit our grandson, and he doesn’t seem to be answering. Would it be too much trouble for you to buzz us in?”
A pause. “Who’s your grandson?”
“Michael Way,” I answer for him, pitching my voice high.
Gerard fights to hold his laughter in with a twitching mouth.
“Okay, I’ll see if Michael’s home.”
“Oh please hurry, dear,” Gerard recovers enough to insist. “It’s very chilly out here and my wife is prone to catching colds.”
“Of course,” the voice replies. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“What are you doing?” I ask Gerard pleasantly.
“Avoiding suspicion,” he replies, then glances at the officers. “They say they’re cops!” he goes on, loud enough for them to hear. I look over to see the driver throw his hands up and turn to his partner. “But they don’t look like cops to me!”
“I think that’s quite enough…George,” I say in a hoarse, but feminine voice.
Gerard grumbles senselessly at a quieter volume, until a male voice comes on the intercom. “Hello?”
“Michael, is that you?” Gerard checks, still in character.
The voice whispers back, “Gee, I swear, if that’s you—”
“Michael, let your grandmother and me in,” Gerard interrupts. “There are two men in a car with binoculars. They claim to be cops.”
The buzzer sounds and Gerard pull the door open feebly, holding it for me as I shuffle past him to the elevator and press ‘up.’
“You idiot,” I tell him with a smile as we wait. “You made an impression. That’s not lying low.”
“Correction,” he says, patting my arm. “I made an impression incognito. They won’t suspect me again.”
I don’t like his logic, I confide to my brain. It makes sense.
And who should learn from that? it retorts.
No comment.
The elevator doors ding, and open, and we enter. Gerard presses the ‘close door’ button, and the seventh floor. As soon as the doors slide shut on the lobby, I reach up to tear of the itchy wig, but Gerard catches my arm. “Not until we’re safe inside,” he orders in his normal voice. I slowly put my arm down and he lets go as quickly as he grabbed me.
“It didn’t sound like he was very happy you’re here,” I mention casually.
“Well,” Gerard says, just as nonchalant, “cop; criminal. Bound to be some tension.” He leans on the side of the elevator, and his coat falls open to reveal a dark stain on his shirt.
“Gerard, you’re bleeding,” I breathe, at his side in an instant. I peel up the shirt, but Gerard pushes my hands away with a pained expression as the elevator reaches the seventh floor.
“When we’re inside,” he repeats, buttoning one button of his coat to hide the bloodstain just as the doors open.
I recognize the man standing in front of us, blocking our way, even though his hair is now bleach blonde, and he doesn’t wear glasses. “Michael, my favorite grandson!” Gerard greets him cheerily, then wryly, “Don’t tell your brother!”
“Who’s that?” Mikey demands, glaring at me.

Notes