by Daniel Stern
She rose to it with an effort. “Fine,” she said. “How’s Tony?”
“Couldn’t be better. What’s new with you?”
“Nothing much, Uncle Alec. I’m in high school now, and I’m going to start piano lessons soon.”
“Then business must be good, eh, Max?”
“To quote an old joke, don’t ask!”
“It’s too good,” Rose interpolated. “He has to build, build, build.”
“I see,” Alec said, “and he doesn’t want to, want to, want to. Well, I can’t say I blame you, Max. These are dangerous times to expand business.”
“Oh, no—” Rose raised her voice—“don’t you start with him, too. He has to. He can’t meet the orders.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see.” Max waved a hand impatiently.
“What does Harry think?” Alec asked.
“Harry thinks I should. Harry thinks I should risk my shirt to expand now.”
“As long as it’s not Harry’s shirt.” Rose laughed.
“How’s Sarah?” Alec asked mechanically.
“Fine.”
“And little Charlotte?”
It was quite apparent to Elly that he didn’t really care about his brother Harry or his family. Could it be, she wondered, because Harry didn’t send Alec a check every month, the way her father did, to help him until he “got started,” as Max put it?
“You’ll see them all at Shule tomorrow,” Max said. “We have a good cantor this year.”
“How would you know?” Rose asked. “You go twice a year—Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. My religious man, here.”
“You know I don’t believe. I don’t have to go to Shule. I go because I’m a Jew and Jews go on those days. I don’t believe.”
“Something to brag about. He doesn’t believe. So why brag?”
“I’m not—oh, never mind. You through, Alec? Come inside for a cigar. You’ll have to sleep on the couch tonight. Elly has her own room now.”
“I could sleep on the couch,” Elly offered eagerly.
“I’m used to sleeping anywhere, since the army.” Alec put his arm around her. “But thanks anyway, honey. Let’s you and me talk a little later, after I talk to your father. Okay?”
She nodded and kissed him on the cheek. She decided at that moment to eavesdrop on their conversation from the desk in the hall.
Pretending she was looking up a number in the telephone book, she heard their voices over the clatter her mother was making with the dishes in the sink.
“… and this could very well be the answer to everything,” she heard Alec saying.
“How much would you need for six months in New York?”
“Two thousand dollars, I figure.”
“That’s a lot of money now. A year ago, no. Now, yes.”
“I can only repeat, Max, that you have to think of it as an investment. All the money you’ve lent me so far will be lost if I haven’t got a chance to prove what I can do.”
Her father’s voice sounded tired to Elly as he said, “I’ve never lost confidence in what you can do in your chosen profession. I may be losing a little of my own self-confidence.”
“I think you ought to go slow, Max.” Alec spoke in a lowered tone. It wouldn’t do for Rose to hear this. “I think big business is not for a man like you. I can see it’s got you worried already. Go slow.”
“I appreciate your advice. But … I have to think it out. In any case, I’ll let you have the money. It does me good to see a man doing what he really wants to do. The rest of us—you know, tied down. Tell me, have you got a girl? Maybe you’ll get married soon. We would all like that for you.”
Elly listened so hard her heart was pounding and her cheeks were hot.
“How can I get married in my position? If this picture deal goes through, who knows? There’s a girl. We’ll see.”
Elly released suddenly the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She ran upstairs during the silence that surrounded the pouring of a drink. She was unaccountably relieved that Uncle Alec had a girl and might get married someday. But it was a sad relief colored with a feeling of loss. Well, she thought, I couldn’t have married him.
That night she dreamed that Jerry Wilson and Eddie Roth were speaking Jewish to each other in order to keep her from understanding what they were saying about her, as Max and Rose had done all through her childhood.
The next morning after a quick breakfast they all left for synagogue together. The men wore dark-blue suits, as did most of the other men at the temple. It was an orthodox service and the women sat upstairs and the men downstairs. The air was filled with a continuous murmur. Elly usually liked to sit with her father downstairs and nobody ever objected. Today, however, Rose asked her to stay upstairs with her. As her mother prayed Elly leaned over the railing and watched her father and Uncle Alec pray and talk. They were joined by Harry, who was draped in an expensive-looking, gold-embroidered prayer shawl.
Elly wiped her upper lip and forehead and squirmed uncomfortably, wishing Uncle Alec would look up so she could wave to him. “Mom,” she whispered, “can’t I go down?”
“I’m sorry, darling. I just want to give your father and Harry a chance to talk business. They always do while they pray. You can go down in about ten minutes.”
When Elly started to leave, Rose whispered, “Tell Daddy I said to buy this time.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Elly scurried downstairs. As she entered the auditorium the praying had ceased temporarily and an old man in black vestments, with a prayer book in his hand, was auctioning off one of the major honors of the service: the opening, by means of a long plaited cord, of the ark in which the scroll of the Ten Commandments was housed. The highest bidder (the money was used for the running of the temple) rose and, before the entire congregation, opened the curtain which shielded the ark. Later, various scrolls containing the Ten Commandments would be held by leading citizens of the community, who then carried them slowly around the circumference of the auditorium while the cantor chanted and people leaned out of their pews to touch the ends of their prayer shawls to the ark and then raise the thus sanctified cloth to their lips.
This was an honor Max avoided over Rose’s loud objections. He hated to be conspicuous. When Elly whispered her mother’s message to him he sighed and shook his head. “What does she want?” he said. For appearance’s sake, Max made one offer while the bidding was in its early stage and sat back while others took it from there. He did not look up at Rose.
Suddenly Elly felt stifled as she watched her father and his two brothers bend over their prayer books, rocking slowly to and fro. She slipped out of the pew and ran up the aisle and out the door. The street was deserted except for a few boys playing ball on the sidewalk.
She tucked her hair under her red ribbon and walked to the corner. She knew she couldn’t stay long, but she wanted to see Jerry and explain how, in the excitement of Uncle Alec’s arrival, she had forgotten their appointment of the night before. Then she would run back to the synagogue before the service was over.
Jerry was having his shoes shined when she reached the corner.
“Hi!” she said, feeling again that strange quality of anger and warmth at the sight of him, arrogant and secure on his perch above the shoeshine boy.
“Hey, Elly,” Jerry said, descending and flipping the boy a coin. There was no one else on the corner. The morning was quiet. “Let’s take a walk, hey,” he said.
“Okay, Jerry.”
They strolled slowly toward a near-by park. When they were almost there he slipped his arm around her waist. In the park the monuments and statues brooded all about them as they flopped down on the grass laughing at something Jerry had said.
“Why’re you so nice now and so different other times?” Elly asked.
“When am I different?”
“Oh, you know, on the corner with the boys and that poor kid Eddie.”
“Oh, that. I don’t know. You can’t be soft, you
know. You’ve got to be able to take care of yourself.”
“Am I soft?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’re soft.” He laughed, poking her gently in the stomach.
She pulled away quickly. “Don’t do that,” she said.
“All right.” He leaned over and kissed her.
She moved her lips under his as if she were speaking in her surprise. When it was over she said, “I have to go,” and got up, brushing at her skirt.
“Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
Leaving the park, Elly observed the statues apparently observing her and thought it strange that their blank white eyes could not see her. She told this to Jerry, who grinned but did not seem to understand. Her cheeks were flushed from the kissing. Before they left the park she applied fresh lipstick.
“By the way,” Jerry said, “Eddie Roth wanted to talk to you. He said for you to meet him here under the big statue at three o’clock today. How about it?”
“Okay,” she said. “What about?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She left Jerry at the door of his house and returned to the synagogue alone. She slipped in beside her mother, who wanted to know where she’d been. “Just outside,” she whispered.
In front of the temple later the family gathered: Harry and Sarah, both the darkest members of the family, and looking, oddly enough, quite alike; Alec, skinny and singular, and Max and Rose, both heavy and authoritative in manner. Elly stood near Alec. She knew the tableau well. This arrangement was for funerals, holiday services, bar mitzvahs, the family standing around too neatly dressed to be really comfortable.
“Come up to our place,” Sarah suggested.
“No, come by us,” Max said. “Rose has whisky and spongecake already prepared.”
There was a general murmur of agreement and they began walking. When they reached the house Elly started to run and called out, “I’ll be back soon.” Before anyone could object she was gone.
Upstairs, coats were thrown on the beds and they all sat in the living room drinking and munching spongecake.
“So, Alec,” Harry said, “I hear you might be in a movie in New York.”
“Might be.”
“You spend all this time trying to get into movies in Hollywood and now to New York?”
“That’s what I said!” Rose exclaimed.
“Well, that’s the way it goes,” Max said.
“I don’t need any defense.” Alec rose and filled his glass. “You all know I’m in a tough field.”
“Tough!” Harry exclaimed. “Impossible! Acting—my God! Why don’t you take a job with Max, Alec, or in my office? Mama would have liked for you to work with us.”
“I’m worth as much to Max’s factory or your office in Hollywood or New York as I would be here and you know it. I’m not cut out for anything except my own field.”
“All right,” Harry said, throwing up his hands, “all right.”
“Have a piece of spongecake, Harry,” Max offered. “Rose baked it.”
“I don’t know how she finds time to bake,” Sarah said as her husband accepted the cake, “with Max and Elly on her hands.”
“You make time,” Rose replied. “Max is nothing. He’s never home. It’s Elly with the schoolwork and all that’s such a problem.”
“She’ll be all right,” Alec said. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Oh, she’s lovely all right. Rose is only afraid she’s too lovely.”
“Sure,” Rose said. “Where do you think she is now? You think I know? With boys maybe.”
“That’s nothing so terrible.”
There was a murmur of agreement. Rose went to the kitchen and Harry glanced quickly at Sarah. She followed Rose.
When the women had gone, Harry accepted a cigar from Max and said, “If you still want to open the new factory in Colchester you can have half the money from me.” He exhaled sharply as if he had been saving the words for some time.
Alec turned from the window where he had been daydreaming and looked at his older brothers.
Max was on his feet. “Thanks, Harry,” he said. “I guess I’ve been waiting for that to make up my mind for me.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “For the rest of the money I’ll cosign a note for you. You see, Alec, your brother is such a good business risk I’ll even sign a note for him.”
“I always knew he was,” Alec said quietly.
“Rose,” Max bellowed happily. “Sarah, Rose, come in here.”
Sarah appeared, Rose following, wiping her hands on an apron.
“We’re going to—” Max began, but Harry interrupted.
“I’m lending the money for the new factory.”
Half the money, Alec was tempted to add, but the ensuing tumult changed his mind.
“Everybody stays to dinner,” Rose announced. “Maybe the last time you’ll all have dinner in this apartment. If Max builds, we’re moving to Colchester.”
“I’ll call Charlotte and tell her to come over,” Sarah said.
The dining-room table was opened. Only Elly’s absence held up the beginning of dinner. Finally they began without her, in an atmosphere of festivity. The front door opened and Elly entered, jacket in hand, her pale face streaked with tears.
“What’s the matter, Elly?”
“We’ve got some wonderful news.”
“What happened?”
She disappeared into her room and shut the door behind her.
“Leave her alone.”
“Go see what’s the matter.”
“No, I’ll go.”
“Let me talk to her,” Alec said loudly and clearly. “She’ll talk to me. She hasn’t seen me in a long time.” He dropped his napkin on the table and left the room.
“An actor,” Rose whispered to her sister-in-law.
When Alec opened the door, Elly was seated at the desk, her diary opened before her, slowly writing something. Alec closed the door, walked toward her silently and placed his long, slender hands on her shoulders. She recognized the touch and in one movement convulsively slammed the diary shut and, turning, threw her head on Alec’s chest.
“What’s the matter, dear?” he asked.
She stood up and walked to the sofa. She wiped her face with a handkerchief, extracted from her pocketbook. “Why are people so cruel? I swear I’ll never see him again, no matter what. I mean I suppose it’s nothing so terrible, but I don’t know—” This tumbled from her lips as she stared into her handkerchief.
“Tell me,” Alec said, seating himself beside her.
“Well, there’s this boy, this Eddie Roth, who hangs out at the corner and he’s kind of—well, retarded, you know, like a halfwit only not quite, and this boy, this Jerry—Momma hates him, she always told me he was no good—he makes fun of Eddie all the time. I just saw Eddie in the park. You know what they told him? They told him that I was crazy about him and I asked to meet him in the park today at three o’clock. I never in my whole life said anything like that to Jerry. Jerry told me Eddie wanted to tell me something. That’s why I went just now. He sort of stood there and when I told him they’d lied, that he was a nice boy but I didn’t want to go out with him, he stared at me for a long time and didn’t say anything. Then he began to cry and you know what he said? He said—I could hardly understand him he talks so funny—he said while he was crying and all, he said, ‘I thought maybe you loved me.’ My God, Uncle Alec, it’s not my fault! Oh, wait till I get Jerry Wilson. No, I’ll never see him again!”
Alec held her to him while she sobbed a little. “Listen, baby,” he said, “the world is like a great big rock in the ocean (she’s so much like I was and maybe still am) and we’re all hanging on. The minute you’re cruel to someone it’s like pushing them off the rock. Some people need only a very little push because they haven’t got too good a hold on it. Like this Eddie fellow (and me and you).”
“But what can you do?”
“I’ll tell you what you can d
o, baby. You can find your own kind of people and stick with them. People who aren’t always trying to push somebody or other off the goddamned rock into the ocean.”
She pulled away and wiped her eyes with her grimy hands. “Then Mom was right about Jerry and how it was degrading to see him.”
“Apparently she was right this time, baby.”
“I love you, Uncle Alec.”
“And I love you, Elly, darling. Now wash your face and come inside and hear the good news.”
“What good news? What happened?”
“You’re moving away from Indianapolis, to Colchester. Uncle Harry is helping Dad build the new factory. Isn’t that marvelous?”
She twitched a little smile. “Yes, it is. And I think you gave me wonderful advice, Uncle Alec. Really wonderful.”
“Aren’t you excited about moving and everything?”
“Sure I am. I guess it’s a shock and coming after this awful business.”
She’s another one of the difficult ones, Alec thought, gazing at her wide-open hazel eyes. I got away and have stayed away, at least so far. What’s going to happen to her? Elly and me. The sad cases of the Kaufman family. God knows I have little enough strength, but she may have even less. Annette would love her….
Suddenly he wished he were back in Los Angeles, away from everything that had always stifled him here—wished he were back with Annette, drinking dark beer in some bar rather than eating the spongecake of his childhood with his brothers.
“Remember,” he said, brushing back the dark-yellow strands from her eyes, “find your own kind. That’s the only way. Now you wash your face and then come on inside.”
He turned to leave, and then turned back. “You’d like Annette. Maybe I’ll bring her here once.”
“Is she your girl? I’d love to see her. Is she like me?”
He shook his head. “No, baby. No one’s like you.”
While she was washing her face the thought came: How will I know my own kind? If it’s not family, then it’s awfully hard to tell who is and who isn’t your kind. It must have been nice in the olden days when families were gigantic and people hardly knew anybody except their own families. On the other hand it might have been horrible, like a big trap.
