Read The Two-Family House: A Novel Online
Authors: Lynda Cohen Loigman
HELEN
(November 1956)
It had been nine years since they were all together for Thanksgiving. Helen wondered if Rose remembered. After Natalie and Teddy were born, Rose’s family started going to her aunt Faye’s for the holiday. But Faye’s husband, Stuart, had retired over the summer, and Faye and Stuart decided to spend the winter in Miami. When Helen called with an invitation, Rose had no excuse.
At first Helen had been thrilled. After a week passed, however, her excitement turned to regret. She was nervous. They had shared other holidays over the years—there had been Yom Kippur break-fasts, Fourth of July barbecues and Passover seders—but those had always included other relatives or friends. Thanksgiving would be just the two families. Even Sol and Arlene couldn’t make it—they had gone to Arlene’s brother’s place in New Jersey.
Luckily Helen didn’t have to worry about the food. Her Thanksgiving menu hadn’t changed much in the past eight years. That was one of the best things about the holiday, she decided. People didn’t want to be surprised—they wanted the classics: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, apple pie.
Judith always loved my apple pie.
Helen had seen Judith a few weeks earlier when she’d dropped off a birthday present for Dinah at the house. Helen wanted to stay and talk to her, but there hadn’t been time. She was glad she would see Judith today.
“Natalie! Come help me set the table!”
“Coming!” Natalie appeared a few moments later wearing denim overalls handed down from one brother and a faded green T-shirt handed down from another. Helen wasn’t surprised.
That’s what happens when you have four older brothers.
“Hey, Mom, what’s this?” Natalie was rummaging through the drawers of the breakfront in the dining room searching for extra napkins. She held up a small cardboard box. “I found it under the napkin rings.”
Helen looked up from the silverware she was arranging. “I don’t know,” she said. “Let me see.”
Natalie passed the box to her mother. Inside it were four neat stacks of small cream cards. “They’re place cards. I think someone gave them to me at my bridal shower. I can’t believe I still have them.”
“Can we use them?”
“You mean for today?”
“I’m going to write all the names out in orange for Thanksgiving. It’ll be so pretty!”
Helen laughed. “All right, if you really want to. But you’d better get started. Everyone will be here in a few hours and you still need to change out of those overalls.”
Half an hour later Natalie brought the finished cards into the dining room and started placing them on the table. “Mommy,” she asked, “who should I put next to you?”
“Oh, I don’t care. Just put me near the kitchen. And separate your brothers a little bit. If they’re all together they’ll kill each other.”
“I know. I put Dinah between George and Joe, and Mimi between Harry and Sam.”
“That was good thinking.”
“Yeah, but … where do you think I should put Aunt Rose?”
Helen knew what Natalie was hinting at from the way she asked the question.
Is it that noticeable? Even to Natalie?
To be honest, Helen hadn’t thought for one moment about sitting or not sitting next to Rose. She had been too busy cooking. But now there were place cards, and she worried that Rose might think she had orchestrated the seating arrangement. “Why don’t you sit next to Aunt Rose?” she told Natalie.
“I can’t. I’m sitting next to Teddy on one side and Uncle Mort on the other.”
Helen was touched. “Oh honey, you can put Uncle Mort next to me. You don’t have to sit next to him.”
But Natalie was matter-of-fact. “I want to sit next to him.”
“You do?”
“Sure! Uncle Mort is really funny.”
“He is?” Helen was shocked.
Natalie nodded. “He told us a crazy story about mathematicians and cake. He was making it up but he acted really serious so we believed him. Mommy, what’s that called again, when you act serious but you’re really not?
“Sarcasm?”
“Yes! That’s it! Uncle Mort is great at sarcasm. Plus, he’s a really good teacher. On Thursdays after dinner, he teaches me and Teddy from his old math books. He makes up special problems for us because the books are too hard.”
Helen was speechless. Mort was teaching them math? Mort was funny? How had such a grim and humorless man captured Natalie’s affection? Helen didn’t want to think about it.
“Mommy?” Natalie’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Should I put Aunt Rose next to George?”
“That’s perfect, honey. Put her there and you can put Judith between us.”
Natalie switched two of the cards. “All done!”
Helen pulled her in close for a hug and kissed her on the top of her head. She breathed in her daughter’s scent—a mixture of cinnamon gum and Ivory soap. “I am so thankful for you,” she whispered in Natalie’s ear. Natalie kissed her cheek and promptly wiggled out of the embrace. Then she made a quick dash for the platter of pumpkin bread at the center of the table. “I’m thankful for pumpkin bread,” she said. She crammed half the piece in her mouth, waved to her mother and skipped out of the room.
JUDITH
Judith was uncomfortable sitting between her mother and Aunt Helen. It was reminiscent of the dinner they shared so many years ago at that Italian restaurant in Manhattan—the place where the owner was a “friend” of Helen’s brother Sol. Judith remembered her mother and aunt quarreling over where she should sit at the table that night.
Back then, when Judith was only twelve, she assumed that Uncle Sol’s restaurant “friend” was just that. She never wondered why he agreed to give so many strangers a free seven-course meal. Harry had explained the truth of it to her on one of their first train rides together into the city for classes, and Judith had been angry at herself for being so naive. How could she not have realized that the man owed Sol money? Harry had shrugged and told her not to worry about it.
You were little
, he had told her.
What does a little girl know about bookies?
Still, the realization bothered her. What else had she overlooked?
A few weeks later on another train ride, Judith had finally summoned the courage to ask Harry the question that still plagued her:
Do you know why our moms don’t get along anymore?
But Harry had no insight to offer on the topic. In fact, he seemed barely aware of it.
* * *
“Who wants dark meat?” Uncle Abe was passing around a platter of turkey.
“Me!” Natalie was trying to take one of the wings before her brothers grabbed them both.
“I’ll take that, thank you.” It was Judith’s father, gallantly skewering a wing from the platter with his knife and placing it on Natalie’s plate. “There you are,” he told his niece.
“Thanks, Uncle Mort!” Natalie beamed.
When did those two become friends?
“Cranberry sauce?” Judith turned toward her mother to accept the crystal bowl, but her mother’s eyes were focused on the turkey wing occupying Natalie’s plate. Judith didn’t care for cranberry sauce and immediately turned to her aunt to pass it along, but Aunt Helen’s eyes were fixed in the same direction. Both women were clearly unhappy with the show of friendship between Natalie and Mort. The bowl was getting heavy and Judith wanted to put it down.
“Aunt Helen?” There was no answer. Judith tried to tap her aunt’s shoulder, but she needed two hands for the bowl. “Um, Aunt Helen?”
“Mom!”
It was Harry, shouting from across the table. Aunt Helen almost jumped out of her seat. “Harry, why are you screaming?”
“Judith’s been trying to give you the cranberry sauce for half an hour already.”
“What? Oh honey, I’m sorry. Here, let me take it from you.”
Judith handed over the bowl and gave Harry a grateful smile. He twirled his pointer finger in a circular motion near his right ear to show he thought his mother was crazy, and Judith suppressed her giggle with coughing. Her mother promptly patted her on the back.
“You should cut your meat in smaller pieces,” Rose said to her. And then, in a slightly quieter voice, but still well above a whisper, “The meat is dry enough to choke on.”
Judith felt her aunt stiffen. “Something wrong with the turkey, Rose?”
“I like the turkey, Mom,” George called out nervously, shoveling a piece in his mouth for effect. “Ish derishous,” he insisted, still chewing.
“Aunt Helen is a really good cook,” Teddy said, thoroughly unaware of the gathering tension. “The turkey is much better than what we usually have on Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you, boys,” Helen said.
“No one really cares how dry the turkey is,” Judith’s mother spoke up again. “I’m sure there will be plenty of desserts later for the children to fill up on.”
Judith saw Harry’s eyes widen across the table.
Now do you see what I’m talking about?
she wanted to say to him. Judith froze in her seat between the two women. Only after Helen left the table and retreated to the kitchen did Judith spot the unmistakable upward curl at the left corner of her mother’s mouth. Disgusted, Judith jumped up from her seat and followed her aunt into the kitchen.
Helen was standing at the sink, scrubbing at the roasting pan like her life depended on it. “Want some help?” Judith asked.
“Thanks, honey, but I think this needs to soak.” She took off her rubber gloves and filled the pan with Joy and hot water. “You should head back in there and finish your dinner.”
“I’m finished.”
“I guess your mother
was
right about the turkey.”
“No! Everything’s delicious! I meant—”
“I’m just joking, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Come. Sit down.” Judith perched herself on one of the yellow vinyl chairs around the round Formica table and Helen sat down next to her.
“Aunt Helen, I’m so sorry. What my mother said…”
“Oh Judy. I’m used to it by now.” She clasped her niece’s hand and squeezed.
“But it wasn’t always this way. You used to be best friends.”
“I’m surprised you remember.”
“Of course I remember. It hasn’t been that long.”
“It feels like a long time to me.” Aunt Helen sounded tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked sallow. Most of her lipstick had rubbed off except for a spot on one of her front teeth. Judith didn’t know what to say next. Suddenly her aunt didn’t just seem tired. She looked old. Under the unforgiving light of the dull suburban kitchen, Judith finally understood the irreversible nature of whatever had occurred between the two women and the toll it had taken. Even the most skillful tailor couldn’t hide a seam once a cloth was torn in two.
Judith decided to put away her thoughts and focus on helping her aunt. “Why don’t I start a pot of coffee and get the pies warmed in the oven. The others must be almost finished with dinner in there. Should I check on them?”
Helen slipped on an apron. “Sure, honey. You know I made those apple pies just for you, right?”
“Thanks, Aunt Helen.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked through the swinging kitchen door back into the dining room. Harry helped her clear the plates, and for the rest of the evening Judith avoided speaking to anyone but him. Harry acted like nothing had happened—they talked about school and the paper he had to write for his class Monday morning. Later on Judith sat with him in the kitchen, where her mother wouldn’t see, and ate two pieces of Aunt Helen’s apple pie. When the evening was over, she went home with her family, took off her coat and immediately went to her bedroom.
It was the last Thanksgiving Judith would ever spend with her mother.
NATALIE
(December 1956)
Natalie had been told the story of the blizzard that struck on the day she was born at least a dozen times. Of course she couldn’t remember it. The heaviest snowstorm she ever experienced came a few weeks before her ninth birthday. The weathermen didn’t call it a blizzard, but they did say fifteen inches of snow came down.
After two days of sledding and snowball fights with her brothers, Natalie was ready to go back to school. Miss Murray gave them extra homework because of the two days they had missed, but Natalie didn’t mind. It was Thursday, so she was in a good mood. At least she could do the homework with Teddy.
When they boarded the bus after school, Mr. Luther, the balding driver, hollered for everyone to sit down. Teddy pulled a comic book out from inside one of his textbooks and Natalie frowned. “Teddy, you weren’t reading that in school again, were you?”
Teddy looked guilty, but he couldn’t lie to her. “Just for a minute. It’s the new
Superman
!”
“Teddy! What if Miss Henshaw catches you again? You’ll have to stay inside at recess for a week.”
He grinned. “Do you really think I’d mind?”
“I know, but you don’t want her to call your parents, do you?”
He closed the comic book. “I guess not. Hey, have you seen your uncle Sol lately?” Sol always brought Natalie candy and comics from his newsstand when he came over, and Natalie always gave the comics to Teddy when she was done with them.
“They had dinner with us on Friday night, but all he brought was the new
Little Dot.
” Natalie made a face.
“Why does he bring you those? They’re so stupid. And why does she like dots so much, anyway?”
Natalie shrugged. “Who knows? Usually he brings me
Casper the Friendly Ghost,
at least. But he didn’t this time. No
Superman
either.”
“Too bad.” Teddy looked glum.
“He did bring one good thing.” Natalie reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out two red boxes, each no more than two inches wide. She handed one of them to Teddy.
“Red Hots! Thanks!” Teddy was already tearing into the box of tiny cinnamon candies. After he poured half the box in his mouth, he opened it as wide as he could to show her.
“That’s disgusting,” she told him. But she laughed anyway.