“Not without Louie.”
Molly swallowed hard. “Listen, Sara, you’re a big girl…so now I’ll tell you. Louie’s trying to get into a new business and we agreed that maybe it would be best if you and I stayed here until he got things settled. Also, I want to help him, so I thought it would be good if I took a job. I used to be a good hat designer, you remember?” Molly hurried on. “You see, a wife should help her husband.”
“But couldn’t you design hats in Monte Carlo?”
“Would Louie let me do that! No, not there. It would embarrass Louie, hurt his pride because his wife had to work. Men have a lot of pride, darling. I had to plead with him to do my part.”
Sara didn’t believe a word of it…Her mother was going to get another divorce, and all because of her. She was in the way. It was her fault that her mother was giving up the man she loved…sacrificing her life. Poor Louie had been so good to her, sent her all those beautiful presents from Johannesburg when she was in that expensive boarding school. Louie had given her all that and now mama had left him. She just knew it. If only she hadn’t written that letter about Mrs. Bromberg. But what else could she have done? She would have been thrown out into the street. Still, Sara felt a huge guilt…
“Are you listening to me, Sara? Everything will be all right. Now eat, it’s getting cold and we don’t want to come in the middle of the first act.
Swan Lake
is your favorite ballet.”
She really didn’t want to go, not with all she had on her mind…
The next few weeks found Molly and Sara living in a moderately priced
pension
in a moderately exclusive district. Sara was enrolled in school and Molly went in search of a position—but it seemed there was no need for her services. She even considered working in a clothes shop as a salesgirl, but after an exhaustive search, that too proved fruitless.
Now the enormous determination she’d had when leaving Louie was beginning to crumble and she began to regret her decision. She’d had no idea how important Louie was in her life, how much a part of her he had become. She was beginning to discover that life without Louie was lonely, terribly lonely. As much as she adored Sara, the girl did not fill up the void. For all his instability, Louie was gay, exciting, gregarious, caring—and above all, he loved her the way a man should love a woman. She missed sharing life with him and she missed their intimacy and the loving touch of his hands, the feel of his body…
That night she decided to write, but she would take it very slowly. She knew Louie would be thrilled to hear from her, but let him worry a little. She would tell him what a marvelous job she had, how busy her social life had become…
When Molly received Louie’s letter she cried. It was hardly the response she had expected; she’d been so sure Louie would beg her to come back. But as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, she suddenly knew that Louie was on to her game and the realization was galling. All right, Louie…we’ll play this out to the end.
Louie was walking across the lobby toward the restaurant when the clerk called out to him.
“A letter arrived this morning,
monsieur
.”
Louie recognized the handwriting immediately. It was from Molly. If he needed anyone in the world, it was Molly. The months she had been away seemed like forever. But when Louie read this letter, he was shocked. She really meant to leave him, permanently…Maybe she had met someone. Molly was quite a beautiful and sensual woman. Damn it, he was going to get her
back
, no matter what. He no longer cared about winning the game they were playing. He only wanted to win Molly.
Dear Molly,
We’ve been apart now for too long and I’m not going on with this nonsense. I love you more than ever before…I reach over in the middle of the night hoping you are there, then I awake to the realization you have left me.
I wasn’t the worst husband in the world. And if I haven’t been the best father, you know it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be. We’ve been through all the whys and wherefores, so I’m not going to go into them. I did the best I could, and in your heart you know it.
I’m not going to beg, but if you are the woman I know you are, you will come back to me, where I know you belong. I never make idle promises and I will not do that now. I have done a great deal of soul-searching. I’m going to sell the horse and I promise never to gamble again. My position at the casino will be more than enough to afford us a gracious living.
I ask only one thing from you, and I know you will see the wisdom of this. For the time being, put Sara in a very good school, then come back and look for a lovely small house. Furnish it any way you like, then we will send for our lovely daughter. Once and for all, we will be a family. That is my vow. But Molly, I need your strength to inspire me, to keep me from slipping back. Remember one thing—I love you more, both of you, than words can say. I will write to Sara to assure her that it will not be too long before she joins us. This I pledge.
With all my devotion,
Louie
Amid tears and promises, Sara was once again installed in a boarding school. It wasn’t the most expensive or exclusive, but it had a lovely homelike atmosphere—which helped keep down Molly’s guilt. At least Sara would be well cared for and, above all, not abused.
Molly’s reunion with Louie set aside any trepidations she had felt about their future. This was where she belonged. Louie was her home.
For several months they were very happy together and spent much of their time planning for the day when Sara would be able to join them. But Louie, inevitably, was growing restless; abstaining from gambling was almost more than he could bear. The expenses of decorating the house they had bought were growing, and still he bought more, wanted more…always more.
Eventually, in spite of himself, he went back to gambling…
Sara, of course, never knew about the unending cycle of arguments, tears and reconciliations between Molly and Louie. Over the next four years she received letters from Monte Carlo, Paris, New York, and finally she heard that Louie had bought a small but exclusive hotel in Seattle, Washington. It was only much later that she learned that her mother’s love for Louie had finally run its course. Molly had lived through too many failures and broken promises with Louie; with no change in sight, his charm had finally worn very thin.
When she left him this time to set out for Oakland, California, they both knew it was truly over. Her brother Morris and his wife lived in Oakland, and she would find a job. In the meantime she had just enough money for Sara’s passage to America and her own fare to Oakland.
At first Sara had dreamed about all the places Molly and Louie visited, about how happy she would be when she was reunited with them and about all the luxuries they had promised her. But her fantasies and her faith in Molly’s promises gradually faded. With all of their traveling and expenses, somehow there was never enough money to send for her.
Sara had never expected to stay at the school for very long and so she had kept aloof from the other girls. By the time she realized that she might be there for a long time, it seemed too late to make friends with them. Besides, the visits from their parents and the tales of their holidays with their families only seemed to reinforce her feeling of isolation, of not being wanted.
When she received her mother’s letter, postmarked Oakland, California, U.S.A., she was no more curious about where Oakland was than about the contents of the envelope. For ten years now she had read variations on the same letter, and the old phrases meant nothing compared with the hope life had suddenly presented her. Sara had finally reached out for the one person who might still want, her, and for once she had received a promise that was not empty. She tossed the unopened envelope aside as she sat down to write to her mother about it.
Dear mama,
I can’t go on living the way I have, without any hope. My father’s relatives here in Brussels have given me his address and I have been corresponding with him. He not only wants me, but has sent money for me to come to America. I feel at long last I will have a home where I am loved.
My childhood has been spent in the most dreadful anticipation. However, now that I am a woman of fifteen, I have accepted the fact that you never meant me to live with you. I always knew down deep in my heart that you and Louie thought I would be in the way. Now I must try and make something of my life, and papa will see to that. I only wish it could have been sooner.
I want you to know I still love you and always will. But now you and Louie won’t have to sacrifice for me anymore. I hope you are well and doing fine. I will write to you when I arrive in New York, which is where papa lives. Incidentally, he has remarried and is very happy, as I am sure you are.
With deepest affection and love,
Sara
When Molly received the letter, first shock, then tears came. And came and came, until she thought she would die.
Her daughter, it seemed, had become a stranger.
S
ARA WAS MET BY
her father in New York. Between her memories and her fantasies she had pictured him as a handsome dark-haired gentleman, with lovely, smiling eyes. Although the change in his appearance was more than surprising, the realization was forgotten as they embraced, unaware of the milling crowds at the pier.
Soon Sara saw the sights of New York for the first time as she and her father walked to the subway that would take them to the East Side. Down there it was like a carnival: pushcarts on all the sidewalks, half-naked or raggedly clothed children running in the streets, men dressed in long coats and black large-brimmed hats that topped the curls in front of their ears. Mothers sat on the doorstoops in front of decaying buildings. There were mattresses on the fire escapes and clotheslines festooned from one building to the next. The air was filled with smells of fermenting garbage, dill pickles, herring, and the large twisted pretzels made of soft dough and sprinkled with salt crystals. The vendors’ cries echoed in the streets and Sara heard odd chants from open windows. How extraordinary, how truly extraordinary…
“Sara, before I take you home, I would like us to have a few moments together.”
Oh, how she adored Harry’s smile, his pink cheeks, his almost silver hair, his cuddly round tummy…He reminded her of
Père Nöel
at Christmas time in Brussels. “Oh, yes, papa, I would love that.”
They went to Esther Sandsonitsky’s restaurant. When Esther brought their ice cream soda and apple strudel, Harry said. “This is my daughter, Esther, can you believe it?”
Esther smiled. “It’s always nice when children come home to their parents.”
As Esther walked back to the kitchen, Harry said, “I…I can’t get over the miracle of this. I know I sound like a phonograph record going round and round…but how did this happen to me?”
“It’s a miracle, papa. More for me than for you—” She could scarcely take her eyes from him. It was as though they had never been apart…“Miracles do happen, papa.”
“Darling, I want to say a few things to you before I take you home to meet my wife.”
“Yes, papa?”
“Well, my wife—her name is Lisa—is really a very nice lady. But she’s just a bit aloof when you first meet her. She’s German and doesn’t show her feelings too much…It doesn’t mean she’s not loving, but she has a…a dignity about her that you might take the wrong way if you don’t understand her.”
Sara thought fleetingly of Mrs. Bromberg, then said, “Papa, will you be honest with me? She didn’t want me to come, did she?”
“That’s not true…She was very happy when I told her—”
“Then why should you feel you have to explain her to me?”
“Well, the truth is…your mother is a very warm, outgoing person and I don’t want you to…to…”
“Compare them?”
“That’s
exactly
what I mean.”
“Well, you’re right about my mother. But as you know, I’ve never been with her long enough to feel her great warmth. I don’t want to say anything unkind, papa, but the truth is, she was no more a mother to me than I imagine she was a wife to you—”
Harry tried not to show the bitter memories. “Well, honey, be that as it may, I suppose we can’t help being what we are. I just want to say that my wife will be delighted to have you…”
Poor papa really couldn’t tell her she wasn’t wanted. “I understand, papa. Be assured I will be most courteous and obedient. I intend to do my part and make life as pleasant as possible.”
Her father looked at her. At fifteen Sara was indeed a woman…she understood things, apparently had guessed that he’d had to cajole Lisa to allow Sara to come. “You’re a very understanding young person, Sara.”
“Well, papa, I’ve had the advantage of knowing all different kinds of people. Don’t worry, papa, I’ll get along with your wife…just trust me.”
He smiled. “I do, darling…I think I told you she had a delicatessen on Rivington Street, and after school maybe you could relieve her.”
Sara smiled back. Mrs. Bromberg was apparently alive and living on Rivington Street…“Of course, papa, I will be more than happy to relieve her.” …
Harry’s description of his wife was fairly accurate. If she was much prettier and perhaps less formidable than Sara imagined, the new Mrs. Harry Edelstein was still a woman who tolerated no challenges to her supremacy. Yes, this was Mrs. Bromberg—a little slimmer, but…
The familiarity hardly made the adjustment easier. Sara could not get used to the noise, the smells…once more she was obliged to be patient. In a few years, she told herself, she would be able to get a job and live uptown. The lower East Side was not for her. She was going to be somebody. She started to study typing…but that dream lay far in the future. Papa had wanted her, and for now that knowledge would have to be enough…
On the first Saturday when she went to
shul
and sat next to Lisa she felt peculiarly out of place. It was not like the synagogues she knew; it was more like a store with a loft where ladies sat upstairs and the men downstairs. Everything was strange, everything…except uptown. For a long time she couldn’t fathom why people living so close to great art and the best in theater never made an attempt to go. True, it cost money, but the people she lived among now never even did the things that were free, like walking in Central Park. She was a newcomer and she had already seen more of New York than anyone she had come in contact with. Of course, papa was different. He had seen more in his time, and now his days were spent slicing Lisa’s pastrami and corn beef just to make ends meet. Poor man…What was he really suited for? Oh, papa, Sara thought, if only you hadn’t been so impetuous when you were young. I might very well be an heiress instead of a maid. But she at least knew there was a world out there, and that one day she was going to have it…