2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [104]
One night at dinner, Tom asked his father, “Did you hear about the Chinese?”
“No.”
“There’s some deal in the works where they’re going to rebuild Los Angeles.”
Brad stopped eating. He wanted to make sure what he had just heard.
“Are you kidding? Does that mean I can get my condo back?”
“Do you want it back?”
“Well, I sure as hell want the money for it.”
“I don’t know what they’re going to do. No one knows if they are planning to rebuild everything as it was or what. I just know a lot of Chinese people are going to be coming here.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it at the post office.”
“Like they know anything.”
“But what if they did rebuild? Would you rather live there than on the ship?” Brad thought a moment. And the answer was no. It would take years to bring Los Angeles back and none of his friends would be there; they had died in the quake or moved away, and it only would reek of bad memories.
“I don’t want to go back. I’m excited about The Sunset.” His son smiled. He then addressed the issue that was always on his mind.
“Dad, if you do get some money from your condo, you will help us pay back the loan, right?” His father looked at him. He glanced over at Tom’s wife, Crystal, and both she and Melissa were staring at him, waiting for the answer.
“What do you think? That’s a silly question. I know this is a hardship on you and if I get a goddamn penny it’s yours. Didn’t I give you the twenty-five thousand I got from Auschwitz over there in Pasadena?”
“No,” Tom said. “You actually didn’t.”
“Well, I will. Just leave me enough money to live on. That’s all.”
“I don’t want the twenty-five grand you just got. I just want to know that if you … never mind. I’m sure you know our situation is not so great.”
“Tom, I’m sleeping on a cot in Melissa’s room. I understand your situation. Yes, I’m good for the money. And anyway, you’ll always know where to find me. I can never disappear once I’m on the ship, right?”
“You can leave the ship, Dad, you’re not a prisoner.”
“I’m a prisoner of poverty. That’s the biggest prisoner of all.”
And then the same discussion started all over again. “Do you not want to go on the boat?”
“You know I do. I’m just still shaken by having my life uprooted, but I know it will be a good thing. And I love you for helping me. As soon as I see real money it’s all yours.”
“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it again.”
His father got up. “I’m going to lie down for a little bit. Melissa, who is that naked boy on the poster?”
“He’s a singer, Grandpa.”
“Nice shoulders.” Brad left the table. Tom looked at his wife. He was a little upset he’d brought up the money issue. She wasn’t.
“Why can’t he give us some of that twenty-five thousand now?”
“Honey, how is he going to live? You still have to buy things even if you’re on the ocean. We can’t say ‘bon voyage’ and not give him any money.”
“He can have ten thousand.”
“That’s not enough for anything.”
“What does he need? We’re paying for everything. It’s enough for snacks and souvenirs, isn’t it?” Tom didn’t want to have this discussion in front of his daughter.
“Let’s see how it goes. I really believe we’re going to see some of that condo money.”
“That’ll be the day,” Crystal said. “Melissa, get up and take down that poster. I don’t want your grandfather looking at that kid.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When President Bernstein’s press secretary announced that he would be addressing the nation, she gave no specifics. She just said it would be the most important policy speech given in this century. The White House wanted it to be seen in real time, as it was being given, not a day later or read about in a news blog. They handed out no advance copies. They wanted everyone to watch.
Bernstein was going to tell America that something was about to happen that had never happened