How many times now had she heard Steve play the music which ushered in Gary’s entrance? Yet this evening each chord produced an intense surge of energy throughout her body.
With the familiar theme song to the movie Rocky, the first skit, Shlocky, opened the show. Gary danced on stage and sang, “Oy, I’m going weak now, fasting hard now, won’t be long now, Yom Kippur ending soon now.”
Naomi entered as Shlocky’s ditzy secretary. “Shlocky, I forgot you’re fasting—I brought you your usual bagels and lox.” She then turned to the audience and confided her secret love for the boss. “He doesn’t eat, and me—I eat my heart out.”
Steve played Close to You and Naomi sang, “So, nu? I want to be close to you. Why do bagels suddenly appear every time you are near? Like me, they long to be close to you.” Naomi ended her parody of the famous Carpenters’ song and the audience’s enthusiastic applause filled the theatre.
After her duet with Tony as the famous Crabby and Crabbette, the audience not only applauded, but cheered.
For the last portion of the show, which called for pure improvisation, the cast members, each took their turns as the “emcee.”
Tony went first. “You’ve been a great audience, but, you know, folks, sometimes we run out of ideas and need your help. We know you paid a lotta money to be here, but now we’re putting you to work. To start, give us an occupation. Gary, c’mon out here.”
Gary raced onto the stage. Tony prompted the audience, “What would you like our friend to be? A doctor? A bus driver?” With half the audience shouting out suggestions, Tony pointed to a man near the front. “Sir, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”
“A magician,” the stout man yelled.
“Terrific.” Tony turned to Gary and told him, “Poof you’re a magician. But every Houdini needs an assistant.”
Gary immediately responded. “Of course, and I pick our newest cast member, Naomi Gold.”
Naomi sprinted out from the right side of the stage and Tony exited to the left.
Together the couple quickly hit their stride. Gary initiated the dialog as well as the action while Naomi aided in moving the action along. But what could she possibly contribute to give it a twist? Francine always managed to be an asset during these improvisations.
Then the inspiration came: when Gary waved his magic wand, she refused to disappear. “You owe me money. Pay me for last week and poof I’ll disappear.”
Gary paused as the audience’s laughter reached its crescendo and then subsided. His back to the audience, he winked and mouthed “Good job.”
When the show ended, Gary grabbed her hand so they stood next to each other for the curtain call. Once they were all backstage, he asked, “Wanna go for a drink?”
Could the evening get any better? At each Passover Seder, her family sang Dayenu. As a young girl, Mom told her, “Honey, it means ‘it would have been sufficient.’ We’re thanking God because He always gives us more than would be sufficient.”
Tonight, in her heart, Naomi declared, “Dayenu.”
Julie, in a sudden mad dash for the dressing room, almost knocked Naomi over. What’s with her?
Naomi turned to follow Julie but was interrupted by Tony. “Naomi. I want to introduce you to my wife.” Tina was as chunky as Tony, but didn’t seem as friendly. Cordial at best.
In the dressing room, while removing her makeup Naomi spoke to Julie’s reflection. “You okay? Is something bothering you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“But . . . well, I just wanted to tell you how much I love watching you and Tony in the Shakespeare skit. I’m glad they gave it to you instead of me.” Naomi shook her head. “I’ll be honest—I stink at that stuff.”
“Yeah, Tony and me, we’re good together.”
Naomi remained silent. At the first rehearsal, she had noticed Tony’s wedding ring and observed the way he and Julie enjoyed each other’s company. Naomi had foolishly thought the two of them were married to one another. Now it dawned on her—she never saw a ring on Julie’s finger.
Well, who am I to judge? Sure glad Gary’s available. At least I think he is.
“I’ll go to the bar and get our drinks,” Gary shouted in competition with the jazz band. “What can I get you?”
“Vodka martini, dry, with a lemon twist.” She’d heard Natalie Wood order that in a movie once. Sounded sophisticated.
Between the dank smell of the place, the discordant sounds coming from the musicians, and a case of jitters, Naomi hoped not to end up with a headache. Better not have another stomach attack either. The bottle of pink chalk remained in her dressing room.
Gary returned with two similar-looking drinks, although one had a lemon twist and one a pearl onion. Was his a martini, too?
He edged into the leather bench next to Naomi and pressed his hip against hers. “I like an onion with mine.”
She must have been on target if he ordered the same thing as her. And she was glad he misinterpreted why she was staring at his drink. Just because their glasses looked alike, she had no idea if that meant their contents were the same. For all she knew, his was a gin and tonic—that’s what she remembered hearing Robert Wagner order once. An onion, though? Huh?
Gary clinked his glass with Naomi’s. “Can’t believe you’ve never been to Arthur’s before.”
“Well, I’m a country girl after all.”
“You actually lived in the Catskills? All I knew were the hotels there. Whatever hotel my parents were going to, they’d schlepp me and my brother with them. I hated it. Barry even had his bar mitzvah at one of them. We never even thought about people living there all year round. Must have been boring.”
“I couldn’t wait to get to New York City. A friend and I once found a way to write out Ellenville that showed what we thought of the place.” Naomi took a napkin, reached into her purse for a pen, and wrote out E-vil. “What’ya think?”
Gary looked at the napkin for a brief moment and then returned his intent gaze to Naomi. “Better drink up. There’s a two-drink minimum here. No cover charge, but . . .” He picked up her glass and placed it in her hands.
With a stab at imitating Natalie Wood, Naomi lifted her martini glass to her lips and took her first swallow. Oh dear, Natalie never winced. Her head down, Naomi twirled the lemon rind in her fingers. A few seconds more and the bitter taste from the vile liquid should fade away.
“So, what hotel in the Catskills did you usually go to?”
“It depended on where Dad was performing. You look confused. I thought you read my New York Times interview.”
“I did, but . . .”
“Dad’s a stand-up comic. At least now he’s getting better gigs than the Borscht Belt in the Catskills. Mostly Las Vegas.”
“Oh, of course. Now I remember.”
She felt like Anne, pretending to remember the very same interview her roommate had pretended to read. Sure hope my eyes aren’t doing that quick blinking thing like Anne’s did.
Naomi managed another sip. “We’d always get stuck going to hear the comics when we had relatives visiting from out of town. And you know what my dad would do?”
Gary jumped in before she could answer her own question. “He finished the joke with them, right?” Disgust sharpened his features. “That’s what all the local yokels did.”
Ouch—did he think she was a yokel, too? “What about your mom? Is she an entertainer, too?”
He scoffed. “Mom? Give me a break. Best she does is make a meal off and on. She can’t even tell a joke at a party.”
“My mom is a good cook, but she’s incredibly shy. She grew up in—”
“I’m almost ready for my second glass. You need to catch up.”
As Naomi obediently tossed back her vodka, the lemon rind swam into her mouth. She delicately covered her mouth with her hand and surreptitiously removed the nasty fruit.
“Wait here.” He slid away from her. “I’m going to get us both refreshers. Be back
in a minute.” He disappeared into the crowd.
Naomi tried not to sulk, but she always resented being interrupted. There was an embarrassment with it—why would he want to hear about her Alabamian mom? But still, it was rude. Her mom taught her that. And every time Dad interrupted Mom, Naomi hurt for her sweet mom. But this sulking needed to stop immediately. Not only was Gary cute and extraordinarily talented, but he could be her ticket to stardom. So what if he interrupted poor little Naomi?
Get over it. One day girls will be imitating me—I’ll be my own Natalie Wood.
Gary returned with two new drinks. “What were you going to say before I so rudely interrupted?”
She felt his hip again pressing against hers as she sipped from her second martini. “Rude? Who, you? No, I was probably the rude one—boring you with—”
“Your performance tonight was great. You’re already better than Julie, and soon you’ll be better than Francine.”
“It’s so much fun working with you.”
“We were meant to work together. We could be the next, I don’t know, I could go all the way back to Burns and Allen.”
“Or how about Lucy and Ricky?” She giggled.
Gary moved in closer and slid his arm around her neck. “Lucy and Ricky, huh? Why not? You know, I’ve been playing around with this idea for a TV series. Why not a modern-day I Love Lucy?”
“I Love Naomi?”
“Now watch it, don’t put words in my mouth.” His kiss melted any last remnant of Naomi’s inhibitions. “Drink up and then we’ll go to my place. You like cats?”
“I grew up with dogs, never a cat.”
“You’ll love Zoey. There you go, we’ll name our TV series, ‘I Love Zoey.’ And you’ll, of course, play Zoey.”
A short time later they were in a subway car on their way to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. Naomi said, “I was kinda surprised when Tony introduced me to his wife. I thought him and Julie—”
“Those things happen. What if you found out I was married or involved with someone else? Or what if I found out you were? Would that really change anything? If we liked each other, why shouldn’t we be together?”
Even in her inebriated state, Naomi was unsettled by this. Why couldn’t she just find a way to think of this as romantic? To love someone so much that whatever the circumstances, it wouldn’t matter. I’m way too insecure, that’s all. I need to get over it.
Instead she thought about the role that would propel her to stardom. The announcer’s trained voice resounded in her imagination: And now time for I Love Zoey, starring the irrepressible Naomi Gold.
Wonder what the name of Gary’s character will be? And would she go by Naomi Gold-Ruben or simply change it to Naomi Ruben?
Two months later, Naomi scampered up the four flights and rushed into her apartment. Anne stood by the kitchen counter putting away groceries.
“I’ve got big news.” Naomi reached into her purse and brought out a small box. “Gary gave me this last night for Chanukah.” She opened the box and revealed two keys resting on a white satin cushion. “He wants me to move in with him.”
Anne froze, a can of soup in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.
“That new girl in our acting class, Cheryl, she’s looking for a place.” Naomi shrugged off her heavy coat. “Look, if you don’t find someone right away, I’ve enough money—I could give you a month’s rent if I need to.”
“You only just started seeing him.”
“Anne, this is the first time someone I’m crazy about is crazy about me.”
“What are you going to tell your parents?”
“I don’t know, I guess I’ll just tell them. They’ll probably be more accepting of it than you are.” She turned her back and hung her coat in the closet. “You should see that scowl on your face.”
“If he’s so crazy about you, why doesn’t he ask you to marry him?”
Naomi’s mouth thinned and she glared at Anne.
Anne said in a soft voice, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m a big girl, ok?”
Anne sighed. “When are you moving?”
“This Thursday.”
“You’re giving me three-days’ notice and that’s it?” Anne set a can of soup on the counter. Hard. “What’s the hurry?”
“I’ll pay the next two months’ rent . . . even if you find a roommate right away. I already paid Gary my share of rent with him, but I won’t leave you in the lurch. Good enough?”
“It’s not about the money.” Anne sat on the couch, leaving enough room for Naomi to join her. “I care about you, even if you don’t care about yourself. When I first met you, you seemed like the most secure person I’d ever met. I remember thinking maybe one day I’d lose my insecurity and be as confident as you.”
Naomi moved toward the couch but only straddled its arm. “Yeah, I had to convince you not to go home. That would have been such a waste. I hope you know by now what a great voice you have.”
“And what about you? Do you know how pretty you are? And how talented?”
“Why are you asking me that? What are you trying to say?”
“It seems you’re more insecure than I am.”
Naomi swung her legs and stood. “I really need to start packing.” She headed toward her bedroom, then stopped and faced Anne. “You’re right. I’m not all that confident. I just put up a good front. But Gary’s helping me believe in myself. I’m sorry but I gotta go pack.”
Before packing, Naomi picked up the phone in her room and called Tony. “It’s me, Naomi. Gary told me to call you. I’m moving in with him this Thursday. Could you help me?”
“I’ll check if I’m free. But what about Gary? He’s puny, I’ll admit, but he’s got two hands.”
“Very funny. He told me you’d say something like that. But he’s got a super important appointment with his agent.”
“How much stuff?”
“Just some boxes—no furniture.”
“Yeah, I can do it. But you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“You sound like my roommate.”
Once she hung up, she wandered into the kitchen. Anne glanced up while plopping a dollop of mayonnaise into a bowl. “I’m making tuna fish. Would you like a sandwich?”
“With the sweet relish?”
“Of course.”
“I’d love one.” Naomi grabbed napkins from the pantry and brought them to the table. “What do you want to drink?”
“My usual.”
Naomi poured iced tea for both of them and sat across from Anne. “It’s been my dream since I was a kid to someday live in a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Did I ever tell you that?”
“A brownstone?”
“I’m reading your mind. Still no elevator, that’s true, but it’s at least one flight less than ours . . . I mean yours. It’ll be more money, but, wow, I never dreamed of getting paid as much as I am, and Gary says that’s only the beginning. Maybe we’ll end up in Hollywood. Maybe even married by then.”
Tony lumbered into the apartment and plunked down a large cardboard box. “Last one. What’s in here? Bricks?”
“Books actually,” Naomi said. “Ooh, be careful,” she warned as Tony bumped into a thin rectangular box leaning on the couch. “That’s something Mom embroidered for me.” She ripped open the box, slid the framed embroidery out and showed it to Tony.
He read, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray . . .” He smiled and said, “That’s really sweet. My sister made something like that for her little girl. Very sweet.”
“Thanks. Let me get you something to drink.”
She led the way into the small kitchen. Zoey jumped onto the Formica countertop.
“What’s Francine’s calico doing here?” Tony scratched behind her ears and she rubbed her head against his hand.
“Zoey? No, that’s Gary’s cat. Boy, she really likes you. I go near her and she hisses.” Naomi opened the refrigerator door. “Soda or just some wate
r instead?”
“Give me a can of Coke if you got one. I’ll take it with me.” Under his breath, Naomi thought she heard him say, “Gary’s cat, huh?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Listen, I’ll take the Coke with me.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I have an audition at four today. Need to get home and freshen up. It’s for a soap opera. Make sure your boyfriend helps you with the unpacking. Let him do some of the work, okay?”
“I’m sure he will.”
Tony grinned. “See you later.”
Before she could thank him properly, he was gone. Something about seeing Zoey seemed to rattle him.
The sampler looked too fragile sitting on the floor. Naomi reached into the thin box and found a small envelope where she had placed the nail used in her previous apartment. She soon found a tiny hole above the bedroom dresser providing the perfect place. She inserted the nail securely in the wall, carefully lifted the sampler and balanced the wire in the back of its frame onto the nail. She stepped back. This now felt like home.
Opening the closet door, she pushed Gary’s clothes to one side of the rack. But even so, would there be enough room for all hers? And why hadn’t he done this himself?
He must’ve been in one big rush and all excited about pitching his—no, our—TV show today.
Would he be put out with her scrunching all his clothes together like this? He might be. She fanned all his shirts, sweaters, slacks, and jackets back out as they were before she touched them and chose to lay her clothes on his—no, their—bed. He’d tell her where to hang them when he came home. Their home.
His—no their—phone rang. Weighed down with an armload of dresses, she stared at the answering machine as it clicked on.
“This is Gary Ruben. Nah, it’s not me, only a machine. But go ahead, leave a message and the real Gary Ruben will call you back.”
Whoever it was hung up without recording a message. Gary will now have to change the greeting to say something like “Hi, this is Gary and Naomi”? Or maybe they could record some kind of funny skit for their greeting. Oh, that would be so much fun. This also reminded her she needed to cancel her answering service, which Gary called “old fashioned.”
Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife Page 3
