“Indeed I do. As a matter of fact, if you don’t mind comparisons, I think it comes as close to Sholom Aleichem as anything I’ve read in a long time.”
Doris laughed. “Thank God you didn’t say Tolstoy.”
“Well, Sholom Aleichem wasn’t exactly a piker either.”
“Thank you, I accept that as a great compliment.”
Aaron was seated next to Doris at the dinner table and she found herself enjoying his company, to say nothing of his good looks. In fact, she hadn’t met a man this good-looking in a long time, or even seen one. He was of about average height, but was well-built and gave the impression of being taller. He had a thick crop of salt and pepper hair and the loveliest brown eyes. When he reached for his knife and fork, the cuffs on his sleeves rose above his wrists and exposed what promised to be masculine, hairy arms. Doris was surprised to find herself even thinking about such a thing…
The evening passed much too quickly, and since Doris had an early interview, she begged to be forgiven for leaving before the party was over.
After a very busy day, when she returned to her suite she found several messages. And one was from Mr. Aaron Brauch. As she sat down and kicked off her shoes to relax for a moment she thought, Oh, go ahead, Doris, what the heck, be brazen, call. She dialed for an outside line and then quickly hung up. Doris, don’t be brazen…Look, maybe you’ve never had a huge lot of fun in your life, but then you never got into trouble either. So be a good girl, put yourself together and get on with your appointment tonight.
Her appointment that night was with her publisher and some “media” people…Watch it, you could get to like this life…but it was also very tiring, especially after the kind of existence she’d led. When she returned to the hotel after dinner she removed her makeup, took a fast shower and hopped into bed, thinking how glad she was that tomorrow was Sunday. A day of rest…
But Doris’ morning of sleeping in was interrupted at ten o’clock. When the phone rang she wasn’t sure if she didn’t want to just pull the cord, but then she realized it could be Henry’s housekeeper. Sleepily, she took the phone off the cradle and said, “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?”
“Who is this?”
“Aaron Brauch. Did I wake you up?”
She shut her eyes and shook her head. “Well, as a matter of fact, Aaron Brauch, you did.”
“I’m very sorry about that—”
“You don’t sound a bit sorry.”
“I really am. But now that you’re up, how would you like to go roller skating?”
This I’m going to put in my next book. “Roller skating? Are you out of your mind? I take my car to mail a letter across the street. Athletics don’t happen to be one of my passions.”
“Don’t knock it if you’ve never tried it.”
“I’m not knocking it, but I’m not going to try it either.”
“Okay, if you want to be difficult, how about lunch?”
“Now
that
was a good suggestion. You just made yourself a deal, Mr. Brauch. Food used to be one of my big hobbies, but I’ve reformed.” Sort of…
“You haven’t given it up entirely, have you?”
“Not likely.”
“Where would you like to go to lunch?”
“Tavern on the Green? It’s been a long-time fantasy of mine.”
“Well, fantasize no more, my dear. Is twelve-thirty all right?”
“Could we make it closer to one?”
“Pick you up at one…”
Sure enough, one o’clock came and Aaron Brauch was standing in the lobby, dressed in a Russian-style beaver hat and a fur-trimmed overcoat. The smile on his face was genuine. He seemed pleased to see her again, and she certainly didn’t find that offensive. In fact, there was a distinct excitement about just walking alongside him as they walked out of the lobby and hailed a cab.
Seated in the restaurant having Bloody Marys, Doris said, “I don’t know whether you know or appreciate it or not, but you live in the most fabulous city—”
“You like Manhattan?”
“I adore it, there’s an excitement and energy I can’t describe. The other day I stood at Rockefeller Center and looked from the skaters below to the skyscrapers above. An awesome sight.”
“You come from a magnificent city too, you know. Probably one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I go there quite often.”
“I can’t argue with that, but there’s a magic about this place I’ll never forget—”
“And there’s a magic about you that nobody could forget—”
“Aaron Brauch, I’ll bet you say that to every rubberneck lady author you take to lunch.”
“No, as a matter of fact, you’re the first author I’ve ever had lunch with. Not the first lady, true…but none as special as you—”
Doris was actually blushing. “You’re not going to believe this, but you’re embarrassing me.”
“Never get embarrassed at the truth—”
“You’re right, but I wasn’t exactly raised on compliments by—”
“By men?”
“Yes…well, sort of.” No one would guess she was a middle-aged grandmother with a successful career. She was acting more like a schoolgirl with her first crush. My God, Doris, you’ve lived in a cloister for too long…
Quickly changing the subject, she said, “How about lunch?”
“Would you like another Bloody Mary?”
“Please, but I tend to get sloshed on two drinks, so I really think we should have something to eat.”
“Do you have a preference?” Aaron asked. “The eggs Benedict are very good.”
She heard the echoes of Santa Cruz in the far, far distance…her first date with Henry, when he had suggested what she order at that restaurant on the pier. “Sounds marvelous,” Doris said, and felt herself beaming like a ridiculous teenager. Good Lord…
Lingering over coffee, he asked her how she had started to write.
“I just didn’t have anything to do one day, so I got up and I said, ‘You know, Doris, I think you should write a book, either that or get into basket weaving.’”
He laughed. “I’m glad you didn’t opt for the basket weaving. Otherwise I might never have met you.”
“You think you would have missed so much?” Now, for God’s sake, she was even fishing.
Doris…
“I do.”
“You do? Oh, yes…well, what about you?”
“What about me? Am I married? No, divorced, for ten years now.”
“How did you get away with that?” And now she was flirting…?
“Never met anybody I was interested in.”
“Do you have a family?”
“Yes, two grown daughters. One in Florida and the other in Westchester.”
Aaron watched as she stirred the remains of her coffee. “Do you see them often?” she asked, suddenly subdued.
“As much as possible, but they have lives of their own and I have mine. Occasionally I get a terrific desire to visit my grandchildren. I have four of them now.”
Without looking up, she said, “Well, you’re one up on me, I have three.”
“I noticed a change in that beautiful face,” he said, watching her intently.
“I’m not much of an actress…I have a son and daughter-in-law living in Israel. And would you believe it? I’ve never even seen my granddaughter, and she’s almost fourteen.”
“How is that? Israel isn’t that far away, you know.”
“Oh, you keep promising yourself you’re going next summer, and next summer never comes around.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “Well, Israel will be there this summer. Just got to make up your mind to go.”
Looking up at him now, trying to be offhanded, she said, “I think maybe I’ll take your advice. You’re not in the travel business, are you?”
“No, advertising.”
“That must be fascinating.” Dumb remark, Doris, but it beats thinking about how much you miss your kids.
“Like they say, it’s a living. Tell me about you, how did you really get into writing?”
“Oh, it’s just something I started when I was about eight. I started doing plays, but the publishers were unreasonable…they just didn’t line up to buy the inspiration of an eight-year-old.”
He smiled. “No, really…how did you get started?”
“There was a point in my life when I needed an outlet and more income and it just seemed natural to roll a piece of paper into the typewriter. Like you say, it’s a living.”
“I think you’re being a touch too modest. Your book’s a tremendous success.”
“And no one was more surprised than me. In fact, I still can’t believe the reviews. And imagine getting published with a name like Doris Levin. I thought of changing it to Doris Day, but I was afraid they’d send her my royalties by mistake.”
“Tell me about your marriage…”
Just like that? Tell me about your marriage? Doris sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Where would you like me to begin?”
“With now.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Well, I have an enormously sweet, kind husband. I guess when you’ve been married since you were eighteen you get sort of…I mean I think that marriage becomes a little bit of a habit—”
“Are you in love?”
What is this? An interview for
True Confessions?
“Of course I love him. My God, it seems like I’ve been married all my life.”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing. You didn’t really answer the question.”
“Yes.”
Her tone and abrupt answer told him otherwise. “How come he allows a beautiful woman like you to take off on her own? Is he that sure of you?”
“He doesn’t take me for granted, if that’s what you mean.”
“So how is it he lets you wander off by yourself?”
“He doesn’t enjoy flying—and I think I’d like to get out of here and take a good long walk.”
Aaron paid the bill and they walked through the crisp, cold streets of Manhattan. Doris was relieved to find that the Big Apple seemed to have a tranquilizing effect on her emotions. Aaron’s questions had certainly stirred them, arousing all kinds of feelings, feelings she had tried so hard to divorce herself from on this trip.
When they returned to the Plaza Aaron asked, “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
“Nothing. But I’ve really had a very big week and…well, I just sort of feel like playing hooky this evening.”
“Hotel rooms can get very lonely on Sunday night—”
Any room, anywhere can get lonely on Sunday night, she thought, and on Monday and the Fourth of July and…
Sensing her mood, he said, “Look, why don’t you do this. It’s only four now, so relax and let me pick you up at eight. You’d be surprised what four hours can do to change a lady’s mind.”
She looked at him as a small warning signal went off in her mind. Break if off, Doris, right now. You’re much too attracted to him and you know it. Now be a smart girl and say…“Thanks a lot, Aaron, but I’m going to beg off tonight—”
“Tell you what. I’ll call you at seven. See how you feel. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Now would you call that a compromise?”
“Okay, I guess so…and thank you for the delightful day. I mean that…”
When anything really bothered Doris she found that soaking in the bathtub was the best place to think. And think she did, about Aaron Brauch. She couldn’t get over the way he had affected her. Even in the short time she’d known him, they seemed to have more in common…than she and Henry had had in forty-six years. That wasn’t a very admirable thought, and in a way it was superficial, but face facts, Doris…Aaron was on the same wavelength with her…he enjoyed doing all the things she dreamed of, adored the theater, the arts, traveling, exploring…He’d had enough guts to walk away from a marriage, in spite of having two daughters, when he knew it wasn’t going to work. His wife was remarried, his children seemed to be happy mothers and housewives and his life had apparently turned out to be very satisfactory. No guilt, no recriminations…But for all her supposed strength she’d never have the guts to do that…What do you think you’re doing, Doris? Pipe dreams among the pink bubbles? But you know the answer, you need the same thing you’ve always needed. It isn’t the success that’s so important but the need to share it with someone. That’s really what it’s about…What are you going to do, go on talking to pillows for the rest of your life? Why don’t you face it, Doris. You’re not sure if it’s love, but you certainly do want to have an affair with this man. But that’s pretty silly, isn’t it? Of course, it is…sixty-four years old with three grandchildren? And then when the affair, if there is an affair, is over, do you just go home to Henry and pretend nothing happened?
Suddenly she realized the water had turned tepid and the bubbles were beginning to disintegrate.
When she got out of the tub and started to dry herself, she glanced at her nude body in the full-length mirror and stood looking, as though she were really seeing herself for the first time. Doris, you’ve emerged on the scene at sixty-four in better shape than some I’ve seen at thirty-four. So don’t ask yourself if you’re desirable. That’s just being stupid-coy. So you’re a late bloomer…okay, so now what…?
Slipping into her robe, she went back into the bedroom and looked at the bedside travel clock. A quarter to six…Okay, kiddo, get yourself together because Aaron’s going to be calling by seven. Besides, you don’t have to make any rash decisions tonight. He only asked you out for dinner and that will be just about the most wicked thing you ever did in your whole unwicked life…
Slipping into the black brief girdle, then fastening the black lace bra, she thought, Boy, those aren’t the worst-looking boobs in the world. Then she slipped on the sheer black hose and silk pumps. As she attached the garters to the top of her stockings, once again she looked at her image reflected in the mirror. Putting one foot on the desk chair she sang like Marlene Dietrich, “Falling in love again…” Okay, Marlene, she said to herself, let’s get the show on the road.
Going through her closet, she reached for the cocktail dress. It was black, revealing her hard-won curves. She loved it, completely backless and high at the neck. She looked at her firm arms in the sleeveless dress. Not too bad for a fat little kid who couldn’t get on the basketball team. Boy, what would the kids in West Oakland think of her now? She was a star. Thin…
When the phone rang promptly at seven, she wasn’t so much startled by its sound as she was by the excitement she felt as she picked up the receiver.
“Hi. Do you feel rested?”