The Friday Afternoon Club: A Family Memoir

by Griffin Dunne

Neither were aware they shared the same doctor and they covered their mutual surprise with curt nods before Dad found a seat on the opposite side of the room and picked up a magazine. After a moment, still pretending to read an article, he heard John ask, “When was yours?” Dad put the magazine down and said, “Two years ago.

They looked at each other for a beat, neither sure what to say next, until Dad asked, “What the fuck are we doing?” That set them off roaring with laughter, and Dad got up and moved to an empty seat next to his brother.

From that day forward they talked on the phone every single morning, until the night John suffered another heart attack and dropped dead at his and Joan’s dining table.

She lay content in my arms, as if she’d finally arrived at the place she was meant to be. We looked at each other for the longest time, until her gaze wandered up toward something unseen that had entered the room. I felt it too. A presence had joined us, and I knew at once it was Dominique. A rush of warmth washed over me, and maybe over Hannah, too, because she made a tiny sound that might have been her first giggle, or could have been her way of saying hello to her aunt. “Oh, Dominique,” I whispered, “look what I have. Isn’t she beautiful?”