“Natalie, she’ll understand.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve known your mother a long time. She helped me back when my father used to yell at me about the books I wanted to read. She helped me when my parents didn’t want to let me go to college. She doesn’t shy away from messy situations, and she’ll help you now.” Judith didn’t trust herself to say much more. “Your mother understands how complicated life can be.”
Chapter 67
HELEN
After Abe’s first heart attack, Helen became vigilant in all matters relating to his health. She changed his favorite recipes so that he stayed on his diet. She forced him to take walks with her every day. She counted out his pills with absolute precision and made sure he didn’t stay late at work. Abe lost thirty pounds and looked ten years younger. But the fear of losing him overwhelmed her. She woke in the middle of the night to check on his breathing. She read everything she could find about heart disease. Over time, Helen began to live life partly in shadow.
Abe’s funeral was on a perfect October day. The air was crisp and the sky clear and cloudless, as blue as Abe’s eyes on their first date. It was exactly the kind of weather Abe loved. Helen knew it was ridiculous to think Abe would have enjoyed his own funeral, but as she listened to the rabbi speak about her husband, that was all she could think of: how if Abe had walked into the room right then, his face would have lit up with joy. Abe loved any kind of gathering of people. Put all the people he knew, all his family and friends and coworkers, in one room together, and Helen just knew he would have loved it. That was the thought she clung to when other thoughts became too bleak. Thinking of Abe, smiling and cheerful, was her greatest comfort.
Six months after the funeral, Helen was beginning to recover. Her sons and her grandchildren kept her busy, and Judith was a great support. Sol came over a few mornings a week to check on her, and Arlene called at least twice a day. Between her family and some of the neighborhood women who had taken an interest in her, Helen’s life was busier than ever. The only person she hadn’t seen much of was Natalie.
She understood, of course. Natalie was in her senior year of college, hard at work on her final projects and thesis. Helen wasn’t exactly sure what a “thesis” was, but Judith described it as a long research paper, the culmination of all of Natalie’s studies in mathematics. It was natural that Natalie should be spending most of her time on it. Helen called Natalie several times a week on the phone, but their conversations were always short, and Helen thought she sounded depressed.
Natalie had always been more interested in her schoolwork than her brothers, but Helen hadn’t really understood how driven she was until she started college. There was something familiar about seeing her daughter’s world widening and her ambition multiplying exponentially as the months and years of college went by. So much change and evolution in such a brief period of time, just like the first few years of Natalie’s life. For Helen, it felt like she was watching Natalie grow up all over again. Only this time Natalie wasn’t learning how to walk or speak, she was learning (she told Helen) how to think.
Abe had been there to see the majority of it. But the fact that he would not be there for Natalie’s graduation was a terrible disappointment. Helen was infuriated by the unfairness of it. He had sat through most of the performance, but he would miss the final bow.
When Natalie came home for the occasional weekend here and there, Helen worried even more. Natalie looked tired. She was painfully thin. She slept until noon and only poked at the food Helen made, even the homemade cookies. When Helen asked about her love life, Natalie seemed upset and mumbled about having no time.
The day Natalie’s thesis was due, Helen called her in the evening. She may not have entirely understood what Natalie was studying, but she wanted to congratulate her on her achievement. Natalie had mentioned that all papers were to be handed in to the department head by 4:00 p.m. and that there would be a champagne reception for the mathematics department at five. Helen checked the clock. It was almost eight-thirty. There was a possibility Natalie would be out celebrating with friends, but she wanted to try calling anyway.
There was no answer at eight-thirty, so Helen tried again at nine-thirty. On her third try, a few minutes before eleven, someone finally answered.
“Aunt Helen, it’s me, Johnny.”
“Johnny? What are you doing there?”
“I took Natalie out to dinner to celebrate finishing her thesis. She’s been working so hard, I wanted to do something nice for her.”
“Well, aren’t you thoughtful. Can you put the scholar on the phone, please?”
“Sure. Here she is. Good night, Aunt Helen.”
“Good night, dear.” There was some rustling and then Natalie was on the line.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Congratulations, honey!”
“Thanks.” Helen was expecting Natalie to sound happy, elated, even. Instead, she sounded nervous.
“Johnny’s leaving in a few minutes. He just took me out to dinner to celebrate.”
“That was so nice!”
“Listen, I’m not going to talk long. I want to say goodbye to Johnny, and I’m really tired, so…”
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say congratulations and I’ll see you this weekend. Are you still getting the three o’clock train Friday?”
“Yes, I’ll see you then.”
“All right, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at the station.”
“Bye.”
Helen was baffled. Why had Natalie been so anxious to get off the phone? She should have been on cloud nine after finishing all that work, but all Helen heard was worry in her voice. What was going on?
Chapter 68
NATALIE
“You shouldn’t have answered the phone.”
“C’mon, Nat. I spoke to her for two seconds. Besides, it’s not like she thinks we never see each other.”
“Maybe, but now she’s going to be wondering why you were in my room at eleven o’clock!” Natalie was pacing now, from the door to the window that looked out over Claremont Avenue. In the tiny dorm room, it wasn’t more than a few feet. Johnny took her in his arms, holding her close and tight. Her breathing slowed and she began to relax.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered.
He answered her between kisses. “We. Are. Going. To. Get. Married.”
“What will we tell them?”
Johnny kissed her again, longer this time. “We’ll tell them I love you. We’ll tell them you love me.” He was tired of talking. His lips were on her neck, her shoulders, her mouth. His hands were in her hair, at her waist. She didn’t want him to stop, she didn’t want to think about anything but him. But she couldn’t help herself.
“Johnny?”
“Mmm?”
“I told Judith about us.”
“Good.” Unfazed, he pulled his shirt over his head.
“I’m going to tell my mother on Friday.” If he had been anyone else, she would have felt ridiculous bringing up her mother at that moment. But Johnny wasn’t just anyone. He was her confidant, her sweetheart, her truest friend. He understood the gravity of her words. The expression on her face, the tone of her voice, none of it escaped him. Putting passion on hold, he held her and spoke to her as gently as the moment required. “She’s going to understand,” he told her.
“How do you know?”
He spoke with the certainty she needed to hear. “Because she loves you as much as I do and she wants you to be happy.”
Chapter 69
HELEN
Natalie’s anxiety was palpable when Helen picked her up from the train. Helen tried to appear unconcerned, but the farther she drove, the harder it became to hold her tongue. By the time she pulled into the driveway, Helen was practically bursting. She turned off the engine, but before she opened the car door, she had to speak her mind.
“Natalie, what is it? Please, tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Do you want to go into the house and talk?” Helen asked, but Natalie couldn’t answer. She shook her head back and forth, sobbing. It was a side of her Helen had never seen. What could make a girl like that, so strong, so sure of herself, cry like her heart was breaking? The moment she asked herself the question, of course, was the moment Helen had her answer. Natalie’s heart was breaking. Natalie was in love.
Through choked-back tears and weepy breaths, Natalie managed to express that she had something important to tell Helen and that she wanted to get it over with before getting out of the car. Helen could barely understand her, but she stayed put and rolled down the window for some fresh air. She handed Natalie some tissues from her purse and patted her hand. After fifteen minutes passed, Natalie was still unable to speak. By that time, Helen had already figured it out. Perhaps it was the confined space of the car’s interior that helped to focus her thoughts, or, more likely, somewhere inside, Helen already knew. Either way, the clues she had overlooked for years suddenly became obvious to her.
“It’s all right,” Helen consoled her. “I think I know. You’re in love with Johnny.” After she said it out loud, Helen couldn’t remember not knowing it. Had she purposely ignored the signs for her own selfish reasons? Natalie was miserable, inconsolable, all because of a decades-old secret that Helen couldn’t bring herself to tell. What kind of mother lets her child suffer like that?
“Sweetheart,” Helen said, as Natalie’s breathing returned to normal, “it’s going to be fine. Let’s go inside—I’m getting a crick in my neck sitting here for so long. Besides, I have a few things I need to talk to you about.”
Chapter 70
NATALIE
More surprising than the fact that her mother had guessed she was in love with Johnny was the fact that she didn’t seem phased by it one bit. Was Helen really going to be so supportive of the relationship? Was it all that simple? Natalie couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was going on. Even if Helen really understood about Johnny, why wasn’t she angry that Natalie had kept her in the dark for so long? Natalie supposed she’d have to tell her mother the whole story, no matter how convoluted.
Natalie walked into the house and dropped her overnight bag in a corner by the kitchen table. Ever since she had started college, the house had felt a little bit less like home each time she visited. She unzipped her duffle and pulled out a copy of her thesis. “I thought you might like a copy.”
Helen weighed the heavy bound volume in both hands. “It’s like a book! You didn’t tell me you wrote a whole book! No wonder you’ve been working so hard.”
“It’s really just a long research paper. Maybe I’ll write a book one day. I’m not sure anyone would want to read it, though.”
Helen flipped through the pages, but the equations and explanations were indecipherable to her. “Of course people will read it. Not ordinary people like me, maybe. But mathematicians will—professors and students. I’m going to read every page, even if I don’t understand a word. Did you make a copy for Mort? He’s dying to read it.”
“I have an extra for him. I’ll bring it to him tomorrow.” Natalie took a seat at the kitchen table and ran her fingers over one of the scratches in the yellow Formica. Helen filled a kettle with water from the sink. “I’m going to make us some tea. Sol brought over some Danish yesterday. How about one of those?” At the mention of her uncle’s name, Natalie could feel herself panicking again. She was worried about how Sol and Arlene would react.
“Do you think they’re going to understand? What are they going to say?” Natalie started to tear up again. “We want … we want to get married. We tried to stop ourselves from feeling this way, we tried, but it never worked. He’s the only boy … the only man that I’ve ever loved.” Natalie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Helen sat down, put one arm around her and rubbed her back like she used to when Natalie was little.
When the kettle whistled, Helen jumped up to fill the mugs. She brought them to the table, along with the white bakery box. Natalie didn’t touch the Danish.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Johnny before,” she said. “I don’t like keeping secrets from you.” When her mother didn’t reply, Natalie got nervous. Helen’s face was hard to read. She looked hopeless.
“We need to talk about Johnny,” Helen said. “We need to talk about a lot of things. After your father recovered from his first heart attack, I promised myself I would never let my … actions … hurt you or anyone. I got lucky with your father, but now … look what I’ve done. You’re being hurt, and it’s my fault.”
“Mom, you’re not making any sense. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Helen took Natalie’s hands in hers. “Sweetheart, I have to tell you a story. It’s a very long story about my life years ago, before you were born, before even some of your brothers were born. I need you to be patient with me. I need you to listen to the whole story before you say anything.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared. Will you listen?”
“Yes.”
Natalie listened. She listened to her mother talk about her life in Brooklyn, her friendship with Rose, Rose’s marriage to Mort. “You need to understand,” Helen told her, “Mort didn’t used to be the way he is now. Honey, he used to be awful to Rose. Every time Rose had another girl, he would say such cruel things to her. He ignored the girls and Rose, just to punish her for not giving him a son.”
“I can’t imagine Uncle Mort acting that way. Judith has told me some things, but it’s so hard to believe.”
“Judith knows better than anyone.”
“You mean, because he didn’t want her to go to college?”
“Partly. Of course, everything is different now. He’s so proud of Judith and what she’s accomplished. He’s proud of you too. But I want you to understand what it used to be like for us, for Rose and for me, when we were young mothers. Uncle Mort was so jealous of your father. And Rose, she got a little bit … smaller somehow, day by day. She was afraid of disappointing him.”
“But you and Daddy weren’t like that.”
“Never. Your father was a prince. Your brothers were a handful, though, with all the fighting and running around. Sometimes all I wanted to do was just go downstairs and be with the girls. Mimi would play dress-up and she used to love for me to do her hair. Dinah was little then, she only wanted to cuddle. And Judith … well, Judith was like a grown-up. Even when she was ten, I could talk to her. You were that way too, you know. Brilliant, both of you.”
Natalie smiled. “Let’s hope the thesis committee agrees with you.”
“Don’t worry about them. I’m sure they’re going to see right away what a genius you are.”
“Sure. Anyway, go on.”
“I know this sounds terrible, but sometimes your brothers would drive me crazy. Rose had three sweet little girls, and I was jealous because I knew they would all be close to her when they grew up and I would be alone. I used to worry that your brothers would all move away and get married to girls who hated me.”
“Meanwhile, Sam lives the farthest, and it’s only twenty minutes from here! And no one could ever hate you. Everyone loves you.”
“Well, I’ve been lucky. But back then I worried. Anyway, I was thirty-five when I got pregnant again. My grandmother used to say if a woman waited more than seven years between babies, her body changed and she’d have the opposite of whatever she had the last time. I
thought for sure I’d have a girl.
“Rose got pregnant at the same time. Our pregnancies had overlapped before, but we never had due dates as close as that. We were so excited. Rose and I were like sisters back then. But she was worried. The whole time she was pregnant, she was scared of having a girl.”
“She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to tell me, honey. It was obvious. Uncle Mort was convinced they were having a boy. He called the baby ‘he,’ he told the girls they were having a brother, he told everyone who’d listen. He started paying more attention to Rose and the girls—and that only made her feel more pressured. I don’t think she would have been able to bear it, to disappoint him again.”
“Geez. Lucky for her she had Teddy.”
Helen’s face reddened. She looked away. There was something amiss in her silence. “Mom?”
“Natalie, Johnny isn’t your cousin.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how else to tell you. Johnny isn’t your first cousin. You love him and you’re going to marry him and have healthy babies and you don’t need to worry about those stories Arlene tells about her uncle’s children.”
“What are you saying?” Natalie stood up from her seat and started pacing across the kitchen floor. “What are you saying to me?”
“I’m saying, the night you were born, the night of the blizzard, Rose and I … she was so distraught, we…”
Natalie’s ears were ringing and her hands started to shake. She stopped pacing and fell back, limp, into her chair. Her eyes were blank, and when she spoke, she was incredulous.
“Rose and Mort are my parents?”
“Yes.”
“And Teddy was your son?”
“Yes.”
Natalie shook her head. Her brain was filled with a buzzing static so that every thought was muddled. “But how? How is that even possible? How could that happen?”
The Two-Family House: A Novel Page 26
