“Oh…go sit on a tack.” …
On Thursday, Doris was up at the crack of dawn. She wanted to take a bath and get dressed before mama got up…she knew there’d be objections to her wearing her best dress to school. But this was something special.
According to the kids, Isabelle looked absolutely beautiful. Some of them had been to see her.
Carrying her white cloche hat in one hand and her shoes in the other, she crept down the stairs and went into the kitchen. She took out the cornflakes, sugar and milk and ate quickly, then fixed three pieces of toast, buttered them, heaped on apricot jam and made a triple-decker sandwich that she wrapped in wax paper. She put on her shoes and hat, feeling quite elegant. She didn’t care who wore what, she’d never have to apologize…
There was no one standing in front of the school when Doris arrived. She wished she had a wristwatch. Well, when she went to work, she’d buy herself one. But by then maybe papa would be able to.
He said he had just made some money out of something very bad…All the cows in California had a terrible sickness called hoof-and-mouth disease and papa went all the way up to Nevada and sent cattle to the stockyards in South San Francisco. It had really been fun waiting for the train papa was coming home on. She just loved the way he looked as he got off the train, wearing his cowboy boots and the Stetson hat. He and mama had had a terrible fight. Mama asked why he couldn’t give her some of the money to furnish the house decently—and, boy, did he get mad.
“Sara, I shouldn’t tell you anything. The minute I make a little money, you want to spend it on furniture. I can’t do it now, can’t you understand? My business requires capital, not furniture.”
“It’s a funny thing, though. Money for a new car you’ve got.”
“What do you want me to do, take a bus? I need a car for business and the old one was ready to fall apart.”
“Listen, Jacob, how long do you think I’m going to go on living like this?”
“As long as it takes me to accumulate enough to open a small plant. You’re not the only one who has it hard. You think it’s easy for me, running around the country in all kinds of weather? If I listened to you, I’d go broke—”
“You know what you are, Jacob? The tightest, most penny-pinching man in the world. If your children meant anything to you…” But papa ran out of the house and into his car…
No, Doris decided, she’d better not ask…
Soon the students and faculty were all assembled and the special buses were waiting. By nine o’clock, everyone was in their seats and the excursion began. There was a wonderful kind of excitement with everyone on the bus. Not that anyone seemed especially glad or anything; it was just that everyone was being so nice today. There were none of the cracks that were usually directed at Doris. Of course, except for the kids on the block, no one had ever seen her dressed up. And the hat hid her hair, which helped. It made her feel like a…well, a lady…
When the bus drove into the cemetery grounds Doris found the silence eerie, and the large marble gravestones were both beautiful and frightening. This was nothing like the dirty, deserted, hundred-year-old cemetery where she and Rachel used to eat ice cream cones in Cleveland. Here was a deep green carpet of lawn that seemed to go on and on for miles. The gray stonework lambs and angels made her flesh crawl.
She was hurried along to the chapel with her class and they were seated in long narrow pews. The organ music was sad, and Isabelle’s family was weeping softly. Doris was shaken by the wails of the lady with a black veil covering her face.
Then the priest came in, dressed in a long black skirt and a white lace tunic, with a narrow tallis around his neck. He delivered the homily in a heavy monotone, something about how this blessed child had been taken because God wanted to keep her from harm. Now she was in the arms of Jesus. Her soul lived in heaven with the Lord, who had died on the cross to make the world…
Doris tried to shut out the sounds of his voice. Maybe she should have listened to Jennie Harrison. Her soul would probably burn in hell for all eternity.
For a moment she could not get up as the teacher directed the children to pass in single file to view their friend Isabelle for the last time.
When Doris looked down into the coffin and saw Isabelle lying so still and waxen, well, she couldn’t help it…she felt sick to her stomach. Her legs trembled so that she wanted to hold onto something for support but she was afraid to touch the box Isabelle lay in. The cloying smells of carnations, roses and gardenias made her weak. When she doubled over, the teacher quickly took her out of the line to one side. She had to get out of there. All she could feel was coldness, fear…someday she would be dead, and so would mama, papa, her sisters and Uncle Shlomo…Tears ran down her face. She was too upset to go to the gravesite. Barely above a whisper she asked, “Miss Thomas, may I please be excused?”
“All right, wait in the bus.” …
For weeks afterward she would wake up screaming, in a cold sweat. Drenched, she would change into a fresh nightgown but it was usually some time before she could stop crying. The dark terrified her so much that she was afraid to turn off the light. God also terrified her, but she spoke to no one about her fears.
Compared to Doris’ usual appetite she ate very little. Usually, she was the first to sit down to a meal and the last to leave. In the past, food had filled the emptiness left by too little show of affection, but now…Besides, what good did it do to love anyone when they were going to die?
Sara was disturbed by Doris’ remoteness. Was it that she was going through some phase of adolescence? Was she beginning to notice boys? The idea took hold and began to grow beyond all proportion. She remembered the problem she’d had with Rachel and that Cantino boy, and her own painful recollection of Carl Bromberg climbing into her bed was still with her…the feeling of his body hovering on top and savagely trying to find his way between her thighs made her shudder even now. Was that why she’d reacted to Jacob the way she had…?
In the beginning of their marriage she’d rejected him as carefully as she could without letting him know why…that sex was something that made her flesh crawl…Of course she would have three children, but that would have nothing to do with the joys of love—not on her part, anyway. Like any healthy man, Jacob had strong physical needs, and he’d also wanted a family…a son. Sara repressed the guilt she still felt over the abortion…
So much time invested, so many tears shed and so many disappointments. Still, she loved them, and they were her responsibility. When Doris started to menstruate, Rachel had told her and taken her to task for not preparing them for the natural events of womanhood. Now she just assumed there was no other reason for Doris’ becoming so withdrawn; it must surely have to do with the discovery of her own body. Inwardly she felt a resentment that bordered on anger, but she must try and handle this…
“Doris, I’m afraid I don’t like the way you’ve been behaving lately. You’ve changed…why?”
Doris sat silently for a moment. Why? Because we’re all going to die, she wanted to say. Looking at her mother now, the notion was far too painful to accept. She remembered her mother’s long mourning and her father’s reluctance to have her go to her grandmother’s funeral. She understood death a lot better now than she had then. But her hesitation was taken by her mother as an indication that perhaps she was right in her analysis…
“Have you done anything to be ashamed of?” her mother asked.
Doris felt as if her mother’s penetrating eyes could almost look inside her. But what did mama mean…ashamed? She wasn’t ashamed, only very, very sad.
“Well, Doris?”
“No, mama. What do I have to be ashamed of?”
“What do the boys and girls do after school?”
“They play basketball, football or go home, I guess…”
“And you?”
“I come home.”
“But sometimes you’re late…Why?”
“I go to the library.”
/> “That’s all?”
“Yes, I love the library.”
“You like boys?”
Doris really hadn’t thought about it. Yes, the girls talked about a lot of things, things that happened in dark movies, in the back of cars, in the bushes…But Doris had shut out even her own curiosity, knowing that no one would want to neck with fat Doris. No one even asked her to dance on assembly days. She always served the punch or was on the hospitality committee. She felt left out and of course she dreamed, but—
“Do you, Doris?”
“Do I what, mama?”
“I asked, do you like boys? If you do, say so.”
“I suppose so…but—”
“Doris, I’m not going to prolong this. I’m your mother and it’s my duty to tell you that boys can get a girl into a lot of trouble.”
She knew what mama meant. Ruby Fox had had an illegitimate baby and now everyone ignored her. Poor Ruby had been expelled from school. They all knew that Mike Dugan, the school football hero, was the father, but he was still the captain of the team and the kids still carried him on their shoulders when each game was over…“I know, mama…”
“Tell me honestly, have you ever had anything to do with a boy?”
Doris could feel an indignant blush come across her face. “No, never—”
“Don’t use that tone of voice to me, young lady.”
“I wasn’t using any—”
“You were. Do you know about boys and girls?”
Doris wanted to cry. She had never even discussed this with Rachel. “Yes…”
“You do? Well, then I want to warn you, Doris. Don’t ever let a boy touch you. I mean even kiss you. Kissing can pass on terrible diseases that some boys get.”
Doris hadn’t the slightest idea what sort of diseases boys got and she didn’t care. She’d never been asked to kiss anyone, so that was one worry her mother could forget. Why did her mother feel she had to bring up something that made her feel embarrassed and unclean?
“And don’t dance too close to boys,” Sara went on.
Who wants to dance with a blimp? Doris thought angrily. She got up from the table. “I’m awfully tired…I have a terrible headache. If you don’t need me for anything, I’d like to lie down—”
“Why should you be so tired?”
“I just am…”
“I think you’re getting very lazy, Doris.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, mama.”
“One thing I’ll say about Rachel, she at least doesn’t mind work. That’s why she gets good grades and you don’t.”
Why couldn’t her mother shut up and leave her alone? She hadn’t slept in a week, not since Isabelle…She wanted to hit her mother, but the anger was immediately turned inward. If her mother died, she’d never forgive herself for having such thoughts. “All right, what do you want me to do, mama?”
“The wash. I can’t take care of everything. Go take an aspirin. And remember what I told you before.” …
The Sanderses always seemed to go their separate ways. When Jacob was home, he went to bed at eight and Sara either read or sewed. Rachel and Lillian studied, while Doris found herself writing plays. As a result, she had to cram for examinations, but her mind was so keen and her memory so photographic that she could remember practically verbatim an entire page…The only time the whole family was together was at the dinner table.
Just before the Jewish holidays Rachel looked around the silent table and watched as everyone ate. She debated for a moment, then summoned up the courage. “I’m going to temple on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.”
Jacob remembered Rachel’s speech to him after the incident with the Christmas tree. He had felt like a hypocrite but had continued to make excuses for himself, saying that he was too occupied with the business of making a living, providing security for his family. Suddenly his childhood memories were very clear, and it brought a lump to his throat when he recalled standing in the little shul alongside of Mr. Mendlebaum. When his mother had handed him the tallis in the red velvet case with the gold-embroidered Torah, she had said, “Wear it with the dignity your father wore it.” It had taken Rachel to remind him how far he had fallen away from his heritage. When had he lost that spiritual need? Well, there were no Jews in his world, and since his social contacts were nonexistent he doubted if many Jews living in America, especially in West Oakland, were able to keep to the old ways. It seemed that only in the ghetto of New York could one really be a Jew; in the larger world, being a Jew meant bartering one’s very existence. How could he have continued to be Jacob Sandsonitsky? He hadn’t changed the name out of shame; the new name had simply made it easier to become part of the melting pot. America was a great country, but it demanded compromises…
Sara had never felt the same loss Jacob had. She had come out of a totally different set of circumstances. Her link with Judaism had only come when she lived with Esther, and even then it was more gastronomical than spiritual.
Jacob could understand her feelings, since she hadn’t really been exposed to religion as a child. But his own childhood had exposed him to Judaism but deprived him of a father to learn from. Perhaps if he’d had sons Jacob would have been more aware of the need to pass on Jewish ideals. Still, he felt ashamed of having neglected his children’s spiritual needs…
“…and I’d like a new dress, papa,” Rachel was saying.
“How much will it cost?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much? A thousand dollars? With the clothes you buy, you mean you don’t know?” Sara said.
“About fifteen dollars, papa.”
“So you’ll go buy a dress. Tell me, Rachel, what shul are you going to?”
“It’s not a shul, it’s a temple.”
“What’s the name of the temple?”
“Temple Sinai.”
“Sara, we’ll all go.”
“You have to be a member, papa, and you have to pay.”
“So…Sara, find out how much it costs.”
“Why do you want to become a member, Jacob? When will you go?”
“When I’m home. If not, you’ll go with the girls.”
“They already go, Jacob.”
“To Sunday school only, papa.”
“Keep still, Rachel, this is between papa and me. I’ll call tomorrow. And incidentally, Jacob, since you’re in such a generous mood, we all need clothes—including you.”
Rachel was very pleased with herself…she’d beaten mama with papa…
As for Doris and Lillian, they couldn’t quite believe it. They were going to have their first store-bought dresses. But their hopes were short-lived. Sara took the wooden dome off the Singer sewing machine and within four days the dresses were done.
They were even more disappointed when Rachel came home with a blue jumper and a polka-dot blouse with a large bow that tied at the neck. She looked like an angel, and her slim body made Doris envious. Funny, she ate the same things. How come Rachel was so thin and she was so fat? Doris was even more upset when mama bought a beautiful brown silk dress and a pink feathered hat from the Gray Shop, and the most gorgeous brown suede shoes and bag to match. It must have cost a fortune. For once, papa didn’t say a word when she gave him the bill for forty-nine fifty for the dress and fifty dollars for the shoes and the bag. When papa tried on his suit and gray fedora from Hart, Schaffner and Marx, he and mama and Rachel looked so elegant that Doris felt she and Lillian were being treated like stepchildren. She was embarrassed by her plaid dress with the sweet little white collar and cuffs. She not only looked like a blimp, but like a juvenile of ten.
Lillian seemed satisfied with the yellow silk. But, after all, she was only a little kid. What did she know…?
On Rosh Hashanah eve, dinner was served early. The dishes were scraped and left in the sink to soak in the Fels Naphtha soap because mama wanted to get dressed.
The girls were waiting in the livingroom when mama and papa came down the stairs.
Jacob was astonished. “What kind of a place is this?”
“It’s reformed.”
“Reformed from what, Judaism? If you’d told me, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“I love your sudden interest, Jacob. It’s all or nothing with you,” Sara said.
“I never worship without a tallis.”
“God will forgive you. You haven’t worshiped for so long that a tallis more or less—”
“I asked you to join a synagogue, didn’t I?”
“Please, for once let’s not fight. It’s Rosh Hashanah,” Rachel said, almost in tears.
Jacob put down the velvet case and walked quickly from the room, with his family following…
They sat in hushed reverence, listening to the organ playing as the choir sang. Two huge floral arrangements of gladiolas and mums stood on the pulpit, and beyond were enormous golden candelabra. Exquisite walnut carved panels covered the eastern wall. Suspended from the ceiling hung the ruby-red glass eternal light in front of the doors which would later reveal the Torahs with their silver crowns.
Jacob’s gaze wandered to the balcony, to the golden pipes of the organ and the choir dressed in black robes, then to the stained-glass windows. His attention was diverted by the rabbi, who stood before the congregation looking like a Harvard professor or even a judge, but for the neatly folded tallis over his long black robe. Jacob not only felt uncomfortable, but totally uninspired as the rabbi began.
He read in English from the prayer book as the congregation sat silently. Then the cantor replaced the rabbi and sang to the accompaniment of the organ, the pauses in his singing punctuated by the choir’s “amen.”
So this was a temple? If anything needed reforming, it was Temple Sinai. This was not Jewish, these were not Jews. Hatless! What was there to indicate this was a Jewish house of worship? Jacob felt alien, out of place. It was about as Jewish as the church he had called Rachel out of so long ago. The only difference here, it was so quiet, if a pin dropped the organ would stop playing. They didn’t even call the man up there rabbi; he was addressed as doctor…Doctor of what? No wonder Rachel loved it—it must be just like the Catholic church. He hated being here and once again he was angry with Sara for sending Rachel to a convent.
Portraits Page 24
