Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  “About what?”

  “For being so taken for granted. What they’ve done is certainly more than I expected under the circumstances, but why couldn’t we at least have selected our own furniture and our own home?”

  “You’re right. But the thing that makes it so cockeyed is how they can expect us to pay seventy-five dollars a month rent, buy food, pay the expenses on the car and insurance when I only make two hundred and fifty dollars a month?”

  “I know. By the time we get through with all the expenses we’ll be lucky if we have enough money left to go to a movie…”

  “Well, honey,” he said, turning toward her and taking her in his arms, “at this particular moment, I don’t feel like talking about furniture and expenses.”

  Moving closer to him, she whispered, “And neither do I.”

  At the end of the month they found themselves owing the grocer and they knew things would get no better unless they moved.

  One night after dinner Lillian told Jerry she’d found an apartment that rented for forty-seven dollars, all utilities included. There would, of course, be hell to pay with mama, but it seemed the only answer at the moment…

  Lillian’s prediction was right. Sara hit the ceiling. “After all I went through to find that apartment and decorate it, you’re going to take all the beautiful furniture into some dump—?”

  “The apartment doesn’t happen to be a dump. It’s in the same area, just two blocks up from where we live. But twenty-eight dollars a month is a lot to us.”

  “Why can’t you sacrifice a little bit to live in a beautiful place like that? Everything is so perfect there—”

  “It’s beautiful, but it’s not perfect—not when I have to owe even the grocer.”

  “Let me tell you something, Lillian. I’m putting up with a great deal from you and I’m getting very sick and tired of it. Do you know what I think you are?”

  “What?”

  “An ingrate. Do you know what I had to go through to get your father to do this for you? He was right…As far as I’m concerned, I’m all through helping and giving. Believe me…”

  When she’d left, Lillian sat down, took out a Camel and puffed furiously, trying to hold back her tears. Mama simply can’t stand the idea that maybe I’ve got a few guts, she thought. She still wants me to be subservient, as if I were fourteen years old. But knowing the truth didn’t make it easier to accept, or to cope with…

  So they moved into the new apartment, and were very content with it. At least they had selected this one themselves…it wasn’t to show off to the world, it was for them.

  Peace was wonderful, but it was also short-lived. Mama called Lillian every day, demanding that she accompany her downtown for lunch. Lillian went along, but she resented missing the bridge club with Amy and her other friends, who now were also new brides. Even worse was that Jerry came home every night to find Sarah and Jacob at dinner. He had enough of Jacob at work. It seemed nothing he did was quite good enough for his father-in-law, and Jacob didn’t hesitate to call him out in front of other employees—but Jerry knew his independence wasn’t just for himself anymore…he had a wife he loved, this was the Depression still, and the job came first for their sakes, in spite of where it came from…

  The real blow-up came when Lillian told Sara she was pregnant.

  “My God…just like Doris. You move into an apartment to save twenty-eight dollars a month and now you’re going to have a baby? Do you have any idea what it takes to raise a child?”

  “When Jerry and I decided, we didn’t compute the cost. We just wanted to have a baby, mama.”

  “Well, mazel tov to you…”

  Thank you very much mama, even though I know you don’t mean it, or can’t let yourself mean it…

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  JACOB HAD NEVER LIKED the apartment. Although it was quite large he felt confined in it. And it certainly hadn’t served its alleged purpose; Lillian hadn’t exactly married into society…a tie-salesman, for God’s sake…Well, the girls were all gone now, it was time he thought of himself a little more…

  One morning he called Sara from the office. “I’m going to pick you up at eleven-thirty.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “What’s the surprise?”

  “When I pick you up, you’ll find out…”

  At eleven-thirty, Sara found herself being driven down the highway toward the Peninsula. When they stopped at their destination it was in front of an enormous two-story Tudor mansion in Woodside.

  Sara looked at him. “What’s this all about?”

  “It’s about the surprise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s your new home. I just bought it.”

  “You did what?”

  “I just told you, I bought it.”

  “And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me when you sold the house in Oakland?”

  “So now you’re punishing me?”

  “Every Jewish woman should be so punished to live in a fifteen-room house—”

  “Fifteen rooms? If anybody’s gone crazy, it’s you.”

  “No, I don’t think so. This is the way Jack Sanders should live.”

  “And what about Sara Sanders? I’ve just adjusted to my life in San Francisco. That’s where my children are—”

  “And I adjusted to San Francisco for your sake. You’ll get over it…Now come and see the house.”

  It was large and sprawling. On the first floor was a forty-foot livingroom, a wood-paneled library, a diningroom with English murals and a wing with three guest rooms, each with its own bathroom. The flagstone terrace overlooked a lush green golf course. From the central foyer, a winding staircase led to the four master bedrooms and baths. The dressingrooms and built-in closets were mirrored, and the bathrooms had sunken tubs, marble basins and solid gold hardware. The left wing could accommodate four servants, and the kitchen was probably the size of the one in the Saint Francis. In fact, most of the appliances were restaurant-size.

  As though the house were not startling enough, the grounds of the three cultivated acres were like a park, with enormous oaks and a nursery and rose garden. The outdoor dining area and swimming pool seemed like a resort. It was so spectacular that the change it would mean in Sara’s life didn’t really penetrate at the time.

  “Well, Sara, this is a little different than Washington Heights, huh? And you were so afraid I wouldn’t make it off Rivington Street. So now you think you made a mistake when we lay there in the sand at Coney Island?” There was no anger in his voice, only pride.

  “What did this Buckingham Palace cost?” she asked quietly.

  “Plenty, but isn’t this what your mother brought you up to expect?”

  That finally brought tears to her eyes. “She would have approved,” Sara conceded softly, wishing her mother could have seen it…“What did it cost?”

  “Seventy-five thousand dollars. They wanted more but you know me when it comes to horse-trading. I’ve had a little experience along those lines. So what do you think?”

  “It’s really beautiful, Jacob—but so far away from the children.”

  “So they’ll come down. There’s enough room. Maybe even Rachel will condescend to visit. If so, at least Mr. Jim Ross will find out he didn’t marry beneath him.” …

  He was right about the children coming down. Every weekend, rain or shine, Doris and Henry brought their children, and Lillian—her tummy bulging now—and Jerry also made the trip. At the end of the weekends, though, everyone went home with frayed nerves. Jacob maintained only a minimum staff and Sara once again found herself doing housework and trying to shut out the sound of Doris’ crying children. The housework wasn’t that heavy but she found it an ordeal to entertain—and let everyone know it.

  Every Monday she stayed in bed to recuperate and every Monday morning both Henry and Jerry said, “Are we going to be on call f
or the rest of our lives because your folks bought a Taj Mahal in Woodside?” …

  When the high holy days came Doris said, “Mama, I’m awfully sorry, but we’re not going to be able to come down for dinner. It’s going to be too difficult to get back and forth in time to make the services. Why don’t you and papa come in and go with us to temple? Lillian and Jerry will be here too.”

  Sara was surprised to hear that her daughters were observing the holy days and thought briefly of insisting that they come anyway. But as much as she would like to have had the children at her table, she realized that Doris was right. Under the circumstances, the trip was simply too far. So who said she was so unreasonable?…Jerry called Sara to tell her that Lillian was in labor and wanted her parents to be with her at the hospital. They left immediately to make the long drive into the city, Jacob driving their Pierce Arrow a bit faster than usual and Sara fidgeting anxiously beside him.

  When they walked into Lillian’s room, Doris was already there and the two girls were talking quietly, Lillian taking an occasional puff on her cigarette.

  “What is this?” Sara said. “Are you in labor or was it a false alarm?”

  “No, it was no false alarm.”

  “How come you’re so calm? I can’t believe you’re having a baby.”

  “According to the doctor, you’ll see differently in about eight hours. They gave me a spinal block, so why should I enjoy? The only one having labor pains is Jerry. Please go calm him, mama—no, Doris—please go out and hold his hand.” …

  Candice Gould was born at six in the morning—blonde, blue-eyed, like her grandfather. “I would have accused you of having an affair if it weren’t that blondes run in the Sanders family,” Jerry said happily.

  The day before Lillian was to be discharged from the hospital, Jerry laid a long-stemmed rose across her flat abdomen and kissed her when he came to visit. “Honey, I’m glad you’re lying down, ’cause I think you’re going to have delayed birth pains—”

  “What are you talking about, Jerry?”

  “Well, I didn’t want to talk about it until you were feeling better, but—your mother decided that the apartment was too small for a family of three. We had quite a long discussion about it…but the outcome was that she offered to store the furniture so we can move to Woodside and live in the guest suite.”

  Lillian gasped. “I don’t believe you, Jerry!”

  “Believe it, honey, believe it. In fact, she hired a nurse and has decorated a nursery. We may be nonpaying guests for quite a while until your mother at least sets us free…”

  My God, it was Doris all over again. Mama’s loneliness in that magnificent mansion must have sparked it off. It was crazy…Lillian didn’t know whether to cry or to take the baby, Jerry and herself to Siberia.

  “Jerry, how could you allow her to do that? I want to take care of my baby and I was happy in our apartment—”

  “How did I allow it? Lillian, you’re really not well. Would you like me to read you chapter and verse on how persuasive your mother can be?” Besides, he thought, with the expenses of a new baby, what alternative did he have on his salary? And even at that, he was doing better working for his father-in-law—tight as he was—than he could do on his own, with things as they were.

  “Well, too bad we didn’t have triplets, that might have been a deterrent.”

  “Not even quintuplets would have helped. Your mother needs company. And, honey, we need a break.”

  In more ways than one, she thought…

  At the end of the four months, Lillian had her doubts that she’d make it through the next twenty-four hours. What had happened with Doris was happening with her. Sara wanted her cake, but she couldn’t quite swallow it. When she wasn’t complaining, she was in her bedroom in near-hysterics. Poor mama just didn’t seem to understand that she couldn’t keep picking at Jerry and expect him to just stand there like a pussycat. The baby’s crying and her irregular hours, the clutter in the bathroom—mama’s reactions created a scene Lillian well remembered from Doris’ short stay after Michele was born.

  The final break came when Lillian announced that she and Jerry were going to get a place of their own. She didn’t know quite how they would manage it, but that was something she kept to herself.

  Tears flowed from Sara. “Why was I cursed with the most ungrateful children? Other people have children who love and are appreciative of their parents…no matter what I do, it’s not enough…I cook and I clean and your father, the grand seignior, he keeps a gardener and two maids for a fifteen-room house—so he can show the world how Jacob Sanders lives.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, mama, but Jerry and I still want to get a little place of our own. We have to.”

  “Then move…move. This mansion isn’t good enough for you? Move—”

  “Mama, it’s not our mansion, it’s yours.”

  “What did you think I bought it for if not to have my children with me?”

  “Well, I’m sorry if that’s the reason you bought it, but we should really be on our own. Jerry and I found a little bungalow in Redwood City…”

  The day Lillian moved out, Sara lay sequestered with a hot water bottle at her feet and an ice pack on her head. Oh Lord, what was she going to do alone in a fifteen-room house…?

  For the first time since Candy had been born, Lillian was able really to enjoy motherhood…and what a joy it was. She bathed the baby in the morning, holding the chubby infant in her arms and watching her swish and kick and coo. She put her on top of the bassinet, dried and powdered her, brushed her sparse blonde hair—and thanked God it was now just the three of them.

  The afternoons were a different matter, however. Sara was there almost every afternoon, and she either had dinner with Lillian or brought her back to the mansion for dinner. When Lillian came back home in the evening she would look around her tiny livingroom with the chintz slipcovers and thank God again for the little two-bedroom bungalow. It wasn’t that she didn’t ever want more, but she was so in love with Jerry and the baby that she would have settled for a hut in the Mojave Desert.

  Of course, Sara would never allow that, and as far as she was concerned the bungalow was indeed no better than a hut. At four o’clock one afternoon, she walked into Lillian’s house and announced: “Lillian, get the baby ready. I want to show you something.”

  There was that command tone in mama’s voice that told her changes were about to take place. Lillian could only guess what the price would be this time—and there was always a price. She took Candy out of the playpen, put the bottle of orange juice in with the diaper bag and followed mama out to her new Cadillac.

  As they drove along El Camino Lillian said, “Mama, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

  “Well, you will too when you see what I have to show you.”

  Suddenly Sara veered to the inside lane, swung left on Atherton Avenue and drove into the Flood Estate area. She drove slowly through a magnificent wooded area and stopped in front of a rambling one-story ranch house that was shaded by the tall oaks. The “For Sale” sign had a “Sold” sign tacked across it.

  Before getting out of the car, Lillian looked closely at her mother. “This is the surprise?”

  “Yes.” Sara beamed.

  “Mama, I think it’s lovely—”

  “Wait, you haven’t even seen it. When you do, you’ll go absolutely wild about it—”

  “I’m sure I will, mama, and thank you, but did it occur to you that the reason we had to move out of the first apartment was because of Jerry’s salary? Mama, we have to be practical—”

  “Don’t worry about Jerry’s salary. Obviously you can’t live in this house on what he makes now. You think I’m that stupid?”

  “I never thought that, mama, but it’s a fact you’re not very good at mathematics. What can Jerry earn as a truck driver? Nadine and Sandy can’t own a house like this and he makes a better salary than Jerry.”

  “There’s a big diffe
rence between you and Nadine. Your future is set. You have a mother and father who are going to provide for you.”

  “That’s very reassuring, but what I’m worried about is right now. How are we going to afford this?”

  “Lillian, you’re either very stupid or you’re not listening to me. I told you that Jerry’s salary was going to be…commensurate.”

  “Jerry isn’t going to be too happy about that. He wants to earn his money, mama.”

  “Believe me, he’ll earn it. In fact, he’s going to be a salesman.”

  Lillian sighed. “Look, mama. I don’t want to bring up anything unpleasant and I beg you not to get upset about this…but Doris is really having a struggle. Don’t you think it will be a slap in the face to her if you buy this for us? You’ve already done so much more for us—”

  “Henry’s a lazy doctor, and I’m not going to make life easy for him. At least Jerry’s not lazy.”

  “Even if that were true, Doris is the one having a rough time. I’m not.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. She should never have married him…well, she’s his responsibility now. If she had any brains in her head she’d leave him.”

  Lillian shut her eyes. Poor Doris…mama was punishing her for what was really mama’s and papa’s mistake…

  “Okay, enough about them, let’s take a look at the house,” Sara said.

  The double doors opened onto a flagstone foyer, and beyond was a twenty-five-foot livingroom and a lovely field-stone fireplace. The diningroom was light and airy, and a short hallway led to the kitchen, and a longer one to the three lovely bedrooms and two baths. It should have been the dream of Lillian’s life, but it was not—not when she thought of the demands that were going to be laid on Jerry to produce. There just ain’t no Santa Claus, and Lillian knew all too well she was going to pay for this house in more than money.

  “Well, Lillian,” Sara said, “what do you think, is it gorgeous?”

  “Gorgeous…What did it cost?”