The Two-Family House: A Novel (16 page)

“What situation?”

“Stop it!” The children looked over from their spot on the miniature bridge that crossed over the pond. They had gotten tired of chasing the ducks and were dropping their crumbs now from the bridge into the water. Rose lowered her voice. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. This move will be the best thing for all of us. If we have more breathing room we’ll all get along better. Abe and Mort too.”

It was warm for April, but Helen pulled her sweater over her shoulders. She was shivering. “But we won’t even be on the same street. You and I won’t see the children. Days could go by without us seeing them … weeks.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand the thought of not seeing Teddy every day. Don’t you want to see Natalie?” Helen beseeched her, but Rose was unmoved. After a few moments she took Helen’s hand, just like she used to, back before the babies were born, back when they were still like sisters. “I need to do this, Helen,” she said. “I don’t know how much longer I can continue on this way, all of us in one house. Some days I feel like I’m losing my mind. Please don’t try to stop this.
Please
.”

Helen nodded then—a barely perceptible movement. Still, she knew Rose had seen it because the next instant, Rose let go of her hand. She dropped it swiftly, with complete disregard, as if it were the hand of a stranger or of someone unclean.

Chapter 30

JUDITH

In the excitement surrounding her father’s big announcement, Judith forgot about the letters. It was only when she was in science class the next day and took out her textbook that she saw them in the bottom of her book bag. Her heart began to pound. Should she open them at school? No, it would be safer to wait until later, at the library.

In a few hours she was back upstairs in the dusty reading room, basking under the murkiness of the lone fluorescent bulb. She settled herself at one of the empty round tables and pulled out the letters.

Other than an occasional birthday card from a distant relative, Judith rarely received mail. Seeing her name typed across the creamy white envelopes was a thrill in itself, so for a few minutes she was content just looking at them. No matter what they contained, she was buoyed by the knowledge that she was important enough to receive letters like these, and that somewhere, someone in a college admissions office knew her name and cared enough to write to her. Her name was on a list, and whether the list meant rejection or acceptance, in the moments before she opened the envelopes she was overcome with relief that she existed somewhere outside the boundaries of her everyday life and that her name and person were as indisputably real as anyone else’s.

But relief didn’t satisfy for long. Soon she was tearing at the envelopes. Barnard was first.
We are delighted to offer you admission to Barnard College as a member of the class of 1956.…
Next, Bryn Mawr:
It gives us great pleasure to inform you that your application for admission has been approved.…

She read and reread the letters, looking for some sign of trickery or fraud. Were they real? Did this mean she could go to college? What should she do now? Who should she tell?

Judith’s initial thought was to bring the letters to Mrs. Morhardt, but it was Friday, and she wouldn’t see the school counselor until Monday morning. She could tell Harry, but she was still feeling guilty about lying to him the day before. Of course her parents would have to be told. She hadn’t told them she was applying to colleges. She hadn’t mentioned that graduating early was even a possibility. What would they think? The library clock read 5:03. She’d find out soon enough.

At dinner everyone was still talking about the news from the night before. What did the new house look like? Were there other children in the neighborhood? Would they walk to school or take a bus?

Judith was surprised by how happy her mother seemed about the move. There was something about the way she acted that reminded Judith of the months right before Teddy was born. Her mother had been so hopeful then. Maybe the move was just what she needed. Maybe her worrying would stop when they were living outside of Brooklyn.

There was even talk of her mother learning to drive.

“You do have a good sense of direction, Rose,” her father said, rising from the table. Judith’s mother smiled at him as if he had just said the most romantic thing in the world. I suppose now is as good a time as any, Judith thought. When her siblings left the kitchen she cleared her throat. “May I please speak to you both? It’s important.”

It was not common for Judith to ask for an audience. Her father nodded and sat back down.

“I need to show you something.” Judith got up from the table to retrieve the two letters and then placed them in front of her father.

Mort inspected the envelopes. He read the first letter carefully, then turned his attention to the second. Judith waited for him to smile, to congratulate her, but he didn’t. He passed the letters to Rose and asked, “Did you know about this?” Her mother shook her head no, her expression unreadable.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” Mort demanded. Judith was surprised by the severity of his tone.

“The letters just came yesterday.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to share?”

“I don’t understand—”

He was impatient. “Are you expecting any more letters?”

“No.”

“These are the only colleges you applied to?”

“Yes.”

“Who else knows?”
Why is he asking so many questions?

“No one. Well, the school counselor, Mrs. Morhardt. She’s the one who encouraged me to graduate early and to apply to colleges.”

“You didn’t think it was important to tell us?”

“I didn’t think it would amount to anything. I didn’t think they would accept me.”

“You purposefully deceived us.”

“No! I didn’t tell you because—”

“Because you didn’t want us to know.” Her father punctuated the sentence with a bang of his fist. The table shook with the force of the blow and Judith pushed her chair back a few inches. She had known that her parents might not react the way she wanted them to. She had anticipated that they might object to her going to school in Pennsylvania. But she always assumed they would be proud of her. She would be the first of their family to graduate from college. Weren’t they supposed to be excited?

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, “the way you surprised us with the moving news.” This wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t a lie. Still, one look at her father told Judith that she had said the wrong thing. He looked like he was about to explode.

“Do you understand how embarrassing this is? That our daughter went behind our backs without our permission?”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re making it sound like I committed a crime!”

Judith’s mother finally chimed in. “How could we let you move all the way to Pennsylvania? You’re only seventeen years old!”

“But I wouldn’t be living by myself. I’d be in a dormitory with supervision and curfews.”

“A curfew does not take the place of a mother.”

“Of course it doesn’t, I’m just trying to explain—”

“You can explain to Mrs. Morhardt, then, on Monday morning,” Mort interrupted. Judith did not like the tone of finality in his voice. What had he decided?

“What should I tell her? She thinks I’m graduating.”

“Then tell her you’ll be graduating. And that you will be joining your cousin Harry at City College in the fall.”

“But—”

“It’s your choice. You can go to City College in the fall, or you can go to high school for another year. It doesn’t make any difference to me. If you choose to go to college you will live at home, and you and Harry can take the train together into Manhattan for your classes.”

“What about Barnard? It’s in New York too. I’ll live at home and—”

“Why should I pay for you to attend a private college when City College is free?”

“They have a wonderful writing program there and Mrs. Morhardt said there are scholarships.”

Her father looked at her with absolute contempt. “Do you honestly think you’re going to be some sort of famous writer?”

Judith didn’t answer, so he continued, “Half the girls in your school will be headed to a steno pool when they graduate and the other half will be headed down the aisle. You are one of the few who will have the privilege of a college education. I hope you know how lucky you are.” He got up from the table. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, taking his coat from the peg on the wall. He opened the kitchen door and walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Judith’s mother folded the letters neatly and placed them in their respective envelopes. She passed them across the table to Judith without a single word, rose from her seat and went into her bedroom.

Judith contemplated ripping up the letters or throwing them away, but she couldn’t bring herself to destroy them. The college stationery was too elegant, the envelopes too crisp. She ran her finger over the raised crest on the Barnard letter. Had she been naive to assume she belonged there? She felt foolish now, and relieved she hadn’t told any of the girls at school her secret.

She would write to the colleges tomorrow. She would tell them how sorry she was that she could not attend, but that personal matters prevented her. That was the right thing to say, wasn’t it? But she would keep the letters. She’d put them somewhere safe, maybe in a scrapbook or a keepsake box. And one day, when she was an adult with her own house and her own family, she would take them out and pass them around, and the people who loved her would look at them and be proud.

Chapter 31

ROSE

(June 1952)

Rose didn’t understand why Judith needed to leave for the graduation ceremony so early. If it didn’t start until ten, why did Judith insist on leaving the house at nine? “The students have to get there early to line up,” she explained to Rose. “We’re not allowed to sit with our families. I’ll see you there.”

Rose sighed. There were so many things about Judith that she didn’t understand. For one thing, she couldn’t comprehend why her daughter got so upset when Mort told her she couldn’t go to Barnard. Was it really worth it to pay all that extra money just for a fancier diploma? For that matter, why did Judith have to go to college when she was still so young? What was the rush?

“I feel like I’m going round in circles in high school,” Judith told her. “I just want the next part of my life to start.” Judith probably thought her mother had no idea what she meant. But it was the first thing Judith had said in a long time that made sense to Rose. For years, she had felt like she was running around in circles too. She had spent the first part of her married life wasting energy on an impossible task. It was only now that she realized how unattainable her goal had been. Mort would never be happy. There was no test she could pass that would change him.

In the years that followed, Rose nursed her grief with a heady tonic of remorse mixed with the resentment that stemmed from the burden of Helen’s constant surveillance. There was no comfort for her in this bitter concoction, but she nearly drowned herself in it just the same.

If Judith’s new start would be going to college, Rose’s new start would come from leaving the house on Christopher Avenue. As she cleaned out the closets and got rid of her family’s worn-out belongings, she pictured an internal purging as well, of her own worst thoughts and habits. When she taped up the boxes of china and crystal her mother had given her, she was Pandora in reverse, putting away her worst anxieties and failures, withholding only hope. She understood the desire for a clean slate more than Judith would ever know.

The graduation that morning was to be held in the high school gymnasium, and there were barely enough seats for everyone in the crowd. It was warm for June, and sitting with Teddy on her lap only made Rose feel more smothered.

Finally the principal stood and tapped the microphone at the podium. When they were done hearing from him, the school district superintendent and a multitude of class officers, they still had to suffer through the presentation of student awards by Vice Principal Kaplan. There was an award for service to the school, service to the community and another for the best scholar-athlete. By then, Rose was more than ready for the ceremony to end. She groaned silently as another speaker she did not recognize stepped up to the podium. “Good morning. My name is Abigail Morhardt, and I am the college counselor for William Wheeler High School.” Her name sounds familiar, Rose thought
,
but she couldn’t place it.

The attractive woman in the elegant cream suit continued, “Principal Singer asked me to present the final award to the valedictorian of this year’s graduating class. For three years, I have had the pleasure of watching this young woman develop her academic talents. After reading one of her freshman essays, I knew that she was a very special student. She has managed to complete all school course requirements in only three years, and I am so pleased that she will be continuing her journey this fall at City College. Ladies and gentlemen, I am thrilled to announce the valedictorian of the class of 1952: Judith Berman. Judith, please join me at the podium to accept your award.”

Rose looked over at Mort, hoping he wouldn’t be angry that they hadn’t known about the award beforehand. Mort didn’t look upset, but his face was difficult to read. He was straining his neck, trying to get a glimpse of Judith, but the graduates were sitting in alphabetical order at the front of the gymnasium and it took Judith a few minutes to make her way out of the crowd. When Rose finally saw Judith, she was relieved. The look of shock on her daughter’s face was unmistakable. It was clear she had no idea about the award. Rose watched as Mort leaned back in his chair.

When Judith finally made it to the podium, Mrs. Morhardt shook her hand vigorously and whispered something in her ear. Judith smiled shyly and cleared her throat into the microphone. “This is a tremendous surprise and a great honor. Thank you all so much.” Principal Singer stepped forward and handed Judith a wooden plaque, which she carried with her on the way back to her seat.