The Two-Family House: A Novel (6 page)

“Thank
you
for keeping me company and helping me with the lipstick. You made my day.”

“Really?” Judith was surprised.

“Really. It gets pretty lonely upstairs sometimes.”

“But whenever I hear you and the boys upstairs, it sounds like you’re having so much fun.”

“Well, it isn’t always a party, believe me. I don’t have anybody to talk to up there most of the time. The boys aren’t much for talking these days.”

Judith nodded as if she understood. She looked down at her candy wrapper.

“You can always talk to me. I mean, if you want.”

Helen was touched. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m going to take you up on that.”

By the time she made it up the stairs to her own front door, Helen knew several things she hadn’t known half an hour earlier. On the way down the steps, she hadn’t realized how alone she had felt or how often that feeling of isolation crept into her days. She hadn’t recognized that the tasks that drove her routine had taken over and that the best parts of being a mother—the connection, the companionship—had been missing. As she stood before her door, she knew that she wanted a girl not only because of the clothes she could dress her in or the ribbons she could put in her hair. She wanted someone to laugh with, someone who could cry to her, someone she could comfort and understand. She yearned for a daughter for reasons she had not previously been able to explain. And now that she had the words to express her longing, she knew it would only be more difficult to ignore.

Chapter 10

HELEN

As they walked into the restaurant, Helen was still wondering how she had managed to get the boys ready on time. It was all a blur. Even now they were bickering and shoving each other on the sidewalk. It was only when they pushed through the heavy wooden door and stepped onto the plush green carpet of the restaurant foyer that they were silenced. The light was soothingly dim, and candles left gentle shadows on the mahogany wall panels. A large crystal chandelier hung directly overhead. Harry whistled softly. “Nice,” he said. “Think I could bring Susan here?”

“Absolutely not,” said Helen.

Sol was waiting for them in the foyer, looking sharp as always. Dark silk suit, hair combed back and nails buffed to a shine that left Helen mildly annoyed. He takes better care of himself than I do myself, she thought. Then again, she wasn’t the type of woman who kept up any real beauty routine.

Sol’s wife, on the other hand, was exactly that type. Despite a few extra pounds, Arlene looked as eye-catching as ever, in a copper sheath dress that matched her freshly colored hair. She insisted on kissing all of the boys, leaving traces of lipstick on each of their cheeks that closely resembled the shade Judith had warned Helen against in the drugstore.

Rose and Mort entered the restaurant a few minutes later. Mimi’s curls were intact, and Judith’s eyes had lost their puffiness. Dinah looked tired and couldn’t stop staring at the chandelier. Soon all of the girls had Arlene’s lipstick on their cheeks as well.

When the maître d’ appeared, Sol walked forward and took the man’s outstretched hand in both of his own. “We’re here for Gino. Just tell him Sol is here with his family.” Gino, a short, heavy man in a shiny tuxedo, appeared almost instantly. “Welcome!” he panted, slightly out of breath. Gino gripped Sol in a tight embrace. “And this,” he said, turning to Arlene, “must be your lovely wife.”

Sol beamed. “This is my Arlene.” She gave Gino a smile and held out her hand enthusiastically. Arlene loved meeting new people, even when she had no idea what to say to them.

“Wonderful! But where is little Johnny?” asked Gino. “I told you to bring your whole family!”

“Johnny’s still too young for all this. But I brought some other special people.” He gestured, and Abe stepped forward to shake Gino’s hand. “Beautiful place you have here,” he said. Gino smiled and his eyes took a quick count of their party. He blinked for a second longer than normal. His cheeks grew red. “You have a large family.”

“Well, Gino,” said Sol, “you did say to bring the whole family. I hope it won’t be a problem.”

Gino cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie. “Of course not! A big family is a blessing! Welcome, all of you!” He took the maître d’ aside, whispered in his ear and practically pushed him through the double glass doors into the dining room.

“My friends, the waiters are setting up a special table for you. The best table in the house!” He led them to a long table set up at the very center of the dining room. The eyes of all the other diners were on them as they crossed the floor. Helen felt like a celebrity. Only Sol can do this, she thought. He just waltzes in and takes over.

When Helen and Sol were young, their grandmother used to come over every Friday after school to watch them. It was the day their mother got her hair done and ran her errands. In the summer when they had no school, their grandmother came on Friday mornings, right after breakfast. On her way, she stopped at Gus’s Deli to pick up bologna, water rolls and a small chocolate cake. Helen hated bologna, and every Friday she hid as many slices as she could in her napkin.

When the lunch plates were cleared, Helen’s grandmother would bring out the miniature cake box from Gus’s. Every Friday she would put the box on the table in front of Sol. Every Friday she would say, “I got this cake especially for you, darling.” And every Friday she’d say to Helen, “Of course, it’s for you too.”

The cake was small, more like an oversized cupcake, perfect for two children to share. Thick chocolate icing held it together, and chocolate sprinkles were scattered on the top. An unnaturally red and shiny candied cherry topped it off.

Every Friday, Sol would call dibs on the cherry, and every Friday, Helen would protest. Every Friday, Helen’s grandmother would feign surprise, and every Friday, she’d say the same thing: “Helen, just give it to your brother. It’s only a cherry. You can have it next week.” After years of Fridays, Helen learned the lesson.

Their table at the restaurant was set with a heavy white linen cloth, flawlessly pressed. Red roses, open to bursting, were in the center. Sol took the spot at the head, with Arlene on his right and Helen on his left. Mort sat next to Arlene, followed by Rose. “Wait,” said Helen, remembering her earlier promise. “I’ll move down one. Judith, sweetheart, sit here between me and Sol.”

Rose was irritated. “Judith should sit here, next to me.”

Judith, caught in the middle, stood perfectly still. “Aunt Helen said I could sit next to her tonight,” she said.

“Well,
Aunt Helen
doesn’t decide where you sit,” Rose snapped.

Helen tried to explain. “I told her on our walk today that we could sit together tonight.”

Mort spoke up: “I don’t want my daughter sitting next to some—”

“Mort!” Rose interrupted before he could say more. “Judith, come sit here. Now.”

“Sit next to your mother, sweetheart,” Helen whispered, as she moved over and ushered Abe to take the chair on her left. Judith took her place next to Rose, directly across from Harry, who immediately passed her the breadbasket. “The rolls are really good,” he said. He was trying to be kind, but Judith was too embarrassed to reply.

Sol was busy lighting a cigarette for Arlene. He was so attentive to his wife that he barely noticed the spat over Judith’s seat. When the waiter arrived, Sol ordered scotches for himself, Abe and Mort, and a bottle of champagne for the ladies.

“I don’t drink scotch,” Mort said, but Sol hadn’t heard. He was too busy making sure Arlene could reach the butter for her roll.

“Who do you like in the Dodgers-Phillies game tomorrow?” asked Abe cheerfully.

Sol took a sip of the scotch that had just arrived. “Don Newcombe is one of the best pitchers in the league. Hank Bowery doesn’t stand a chance against him. The Dodgers will take them tomorrow for sure.”

“I don’t think so,” piped up Joe from the far end of the table.

“Oh yeah? You don’t like the Dodgers?” Sol’s interest was piqued.

“They’re my favorite team! But I heard Newcombe’s got a bum arm. That’s why he only pitched one inning in Thursday’s game.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

Joe shrugged, “I’ve got my sources,” he said.

Sol laughed. “Did you hear this one?” he said to Arlene. She nodded and sipped her glass of champagne. “He’s got
sources.
”

“He’s adorable,” Arlene told Helen.

“Joe knows a lot about baseball, Uncle Sol,” said Sam solemnly.

“Yeah, plus he’s got the best baseball card collection in our whole grade,” affirmed George.

“Well, Joe,” said Sol, “if you’re so sure about the game, how ’bout you and I make a little wager?”

“Sol!” warned Helen. “Don’t.”

Sol held up his hands. “Calm down, calm down, I was only kidding.”

“See?” Mort said to Rose, loud enough for Helen to hear. “Do you see what kind of a person he is?”

Abe jumped in: “No one’s making any bets. But if I were you, Sol, I wouldn’t bet against Joe when it comes to baseball.”

Sol smiled. “You wouldn’t, huh? Well, Joe, maybe you’ll come work for your uncle Sol one day.”

“God forbid!” said Mort.

“What did you say?” Sol was agitated now.

“Slow down,” said Abe. “Mort just means the boys will work at Box Brothers one day. Just like you’ll have Johnny to take over
your
business.”

“I want to work in the family business too,” interrupted Mimi. “Can I?” she turned to her mother for an answer. Rose just put her finger over her lips. “Shh.”

Sol tried to be conciliatory. He held up his scotch glass and made a toast. “To family.” He turned to Rose and Helen. “May your new children be happy and healthy.”

Sol swallowed his drink, and Mort downed his as well. “I thought you said you didn’t like scotch,” Helen said.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But it’s bad luck not to drink when someone makes a toast.”

Luckily, Gino arrived then, distracting them all with the menus. Sol handed his back to Gino without even opening it. “Bring us whatever you think we’ll like, Gino. You choose for us.” Gino made a small bow and collected the menus back from everyone. “It would be my pleasure.”

It was a good time for a visit to the ladies’ room, so Helen excused herself and left the table.
Why was everything going so wrong?

When Helen came out of the stall, Rose was sitting at the vanity table, waiting for her.

“Helen, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come. Mort gets … uneasy around Sol. I knew he wouldn’t want Judith to sit next to him.”

“It’s fine,” said Helen. “You know Sol just likes to joke. He would never say anything inappropriate with Judith sitting next to him.”

“I know,” said Rose, though she didn’t sound convinced. It bothered Helen that Rose so obviously disapproved of her brother. She knew Mort did, but that was different; Mort disapproved of almost everyone.

“We should get back,” Rose said, and she opened the ladies’ room door for Helen. There was an awkwardness between them that hadn’t been there before, and Helen was surprisingly uncomfortable. Having walked out of the ladies’ room first, Helen tried to slow her pace so that Rose could catch up. But no matter how hard she tried, she was always a little bit ahead. For the first time since they had known each other, the two women were out of step.

Chapter 11

MORT

(October 1947)

After the news of Rose’s pregnancy became public, Mort became increasingly annoyed with his coworkers. Most of them seemed to think he had nothing better to do with his time than to answer personal questions about Rose’s condition and their family life. If it were not for his daily point quota, he would have refused to acknowledge the questions at all. But he knew what he had to do to keep the covenant he had made. It would be so much easier to be nice to people if only they would stop talking to him.

Mort tried to prepare himself as he approached the company coffeepot Monday morning. It was a place where he was often drawn into conversation, and he wanted to be ready.

“Good morning, Mort.” It was Sheila, the only woman who worked at Box Brothers. Sheila answered phones and did the typing for Abe and Mort. She arrived on time and was generally pleasant and efficient. Abe referred to Sheila as a “gem.” Mort felt she was adequate.

“Good morning,” he responded. This was a classic one-point encounter for Mort, but the next moment was critical. He could take his coffee, keep his head down and walk back to his office. Or, he could prolong the meeting with a follow-up remark, thereby creating a multiple-point situation. It was the sort of decision Mort had come to dread. The follow-up remark was dangerous—who knew how much time he might waste if he risked it? On the other hand, the possibility of earning extra points was tempting. The weekend had not been a good one for him. He had made some unkind remarks to Judith about a book she was reading, and his weekend score had plummeted as a result. Here was an opportunity to get himself back on track.

He took a deep breath and spoke. “I hope you had a nice weekend,” he said to Sheila.

As the words came out of his mouth, he congratulated himself on his phrasing. He had not made the mistake of asking the open-ended question
How
was your weekend? Through trial-and-error he had come to realize that asking open-ended questions led to long, drawn-out answers from people. The question
Did
you have a nice weekend? was slightly better (if you were lucky, you might get a quick yes or no) but still risky. In stating he
hoped
Sheila had a good weekend, Mort felt certain he had bypassed the need for Sheila to provide any answer at all. The most appropriate way to respond to such a statement, Mort felt, was to nod. Certainly no more than that was necessary.

How wrong he was! “Aren’t you sweet for asking,” Sheila replied.
Asking?
He had asked nothing. In fact, he had gone out of his way specifically
not
to ask.
Did no one understand grammar? Syntax? The etiquette of language?
He gritted his teeth.