Free Death Benefits by Sarah N. Harvey Page A

can evaporate like that.
    A couple of blank pages follow the family portrait, and then it really is 1929. The scene shifts to a city that I assume is Edmonton. Arthur shoveling the sidewalk outside a run-down house. Arthur standing stiffly beside an elderly man in a fur-trimmed coat, a fur hat and leather gloves. Arthur is wearing hand-knitted mittens, a wool cap and a threadbare coat. He looks cold but happy. The old man has his hand on Arthur’s elbow—he’s either guiding him or leaning on him; it’s impossible to tell which. Is he Arthur’s cello teacher? A family friend? His landlord? A few pages later, I get my answer. A yellowing newspaper clipping dated 1931 features a photograph of the two of them. The caption under a photograph says: Arthur Jenkins with his mentor and teacher Laszlo Polgar . The headline reads: Homegrown Prodigy Wins Prestigious Award . The article goes on to say that Arthur has won a scholarship to study in London with a woman named Guilhermina Suggia. No one I’ve ever heard of, but what do I know? According to the article, she was a pretty big deal. She had a fling with Casals and she is described as “bohemian, unpredictable and temperamental.” Just up Arthur’s alley.
    The rest of the album is devoted to pictures of Arthur in London. At first he looks bemused and hungry and a bit scared—he’s really young to be so far from home— but by the time I turn the last page, he’s got a tux, a car (an MG, I think) and a woman who could be the volatile (and much older) cello teacher. Things are looking up.
    I’m about to move on to 1933–37 when the phone rings, which is weird. Arthur’s phone hasn’t rung once in all the time I’ve been here. If my mom wants to talk to me, she calls my cell, and no one ever calls for Arthur. Not when I’m here anyway. I wait to see whether Arthur is going to answer it, but when it keeps ringing I sprint to the living room and grab the phone off his desk. Arthur ignores it and me. He’s watching Little House again and apparently the goings-on in Walnut Grove are pretty riveting.
    â€œHello,” I say into the phone. “Jenkins residence.”
    â€œIs Arthur Jenkins there, please?” a woman’s voice asks.
    â€œMay I say who’s calling?” I ask. For some reason I think I need to screen Arthur’s calls, or should I say, call.
    â€œThis is Catherine Ramm. I’m a producer with the CBC in Toronto. We’re recording the concert soon, and I’d like to interview Mr. Jenkins for our pre-concert programming.”
    â€œWhat concert?” I ask. Arthur swivels in his chair and glares at me. He makes a throat-cutting gesture, which I take to mean that he doesn’t want to talk to Ms. Ramm.
    â€œThe concert at Roy Thompson Hall. He’s known about it for a year.” She pauses. “To whom am I speaking?” Ms. Ramm is starting to sound a bit peeved, and Arthur is shaking his head so vigorously his tuque flies off.
    â€œI am Mr. Jenkins’ personal assistant,” I say. “Royce Peterson. Mr. Jenkins is unavailable at the moment. I will have him return your call. Your number?”
    Ms. Ramm sighs and rattles off a number, which I write down on a dirty napkin.
    I hang up and say, “What concert, Arthur?”
    Arthur is still glued to the tv; Mary is leaving Walnut Grove to go to a school for the blind. I reach over and swivel him around to face me.
    â€œWhat concert?” I repeat.
    He tries to turn back to the TV , but I’ve got a good grip on the back of the chair.
    â€œLet go of me, boy,” he growls.
    â€œNope,” I say. “Not until you tell me about this concert.”
    â€œDamn people,” he mutters.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œPromoters. Still trying to make a buck off an old man. There’s a letter here somewhere. Let go of the damn chair, and I’ll find it.”
    I let him turn the chair