by Beth Miller
4. The looming presence of Dad. On the positive side, he was still thoroughly shaken by the berating everyone gave him after his outburst at Zaida. It was the first time in decades that any of us had challenged him about anything: no wonder he was shocked. Dov told me that Dad was consulting a lot more with Mum and Uri about decisions than he’d ever done before. Some things, such as allowing me to come back home, had naturally not been Dad’s wish, but he had deferred the final ruling to Mum, or she had insisted on it, no one was sure. Either way, that was how it came about that I was able to move back in.
Dad hadn’t had a complete personality shift, of course. He was forced to sit with me at meals, but otherwise he would silently remove himself from my presence, which was obviously a bit unpleasant but preferable, as Dov pointed out, to him staying there. But as the weeks passed, and he – and everyone else – got used to me being back, he began to stay in a corner of the room, glaring at me. It was funny at first, then it wasn’t.
Along with the glaring, he began to address the occasional snide remark at me under his breath. ‘How’s your momzer, Aliza?’ meaning bastard, and then ‘Oh, I forgot, you left him.’ Or ‘You’ve put on weight, haven’t you?’ Actually there was some truth in that: with Mum on a mission to feed me up, my clothes had started to feel tight. Of course I understood Dad was deeply offended that I was back in the family home. Having told everyone that I was dead to him, it not only completely undermined his authority, but also made him look very silly. I was no longer as terrified of him as I had once been, but it was horrible being on the receiving end of his little bombs of rudeness. He’d drop them in the middle of several days of silence, with no warning. I simply got back into the habit of avoiding him, like my sisters.
Alex would be pleased to know I’d started to categorise things into lists.
5. Alex. I just missed him. One night a couple of weeks ago… oh, why pretend to be vague? It was 1 January, the day of our first wedding anniversary, and missing him had become unbearable. I took out the Re-education book for the first time since I brought it back from the flat. I read the first page, and it was so soothing. I got into the habit of looking at it last thing every night, lying in bed. I waited till Becca and Gila were asleep, then quietly clicked on my torch and read under the bedcovers. I rationed myself to one list per night, to make them last. I found it comforting to think about which of the things we’d done on the list, and which we hadn’t. But the thought that we probably wouldn’t ever do those ones now gave me a hollow feeling in my stomach, like homesickness. I traced Alex’s handwriting with my finger, round the funny loops of his y’s. I thought about his face as he wrote the lists, his look of concentration, his smile.
So home was odd; the annex with Nathan rather than Zaida in it was downright weird; and as for synagogue, I only went once, a few days after I came back, and it was like a scene from a film I saw with Alex, where the stranger walks into the bar and everyone stops talking. Afterwards I told Mum I couldn’t go back, which I thought would be difficult for her, shul being such a huge part of our lives, but she seemed relieved. Me being there reminded everyone, including her, what a scandalous mess I’d made of everything.
Work was a respite, despite the forty-minute schlep from Hackney to Brixton, and so, most of all, was Deb’s house – the only place from my old life that felt the same.
Sure, she didn’t hold back with the forthright remarks, but that was one of the things that was familiar. That was just Deb. I knew she loved me. And the more time I spent with her, armed with my painfully acquired new insights about relationships, the more I began to realise that she wasn’t quite as content and sorted as I’d assumed. The perfect bubble I’d always pictured her living in was, it seemed, as imaginary as my marriage.
Marriage. Proposals. Last night. Don’t think about it.
Deb and I sat together, one at each end of her enormous sofa, part of her impressive cushion collection propping up our backs, coffee mugs in hands. Legs up, our bestockinged feet meeting in the middle, sole to sole.
She teased me about how early I’d called. ‘Can’t get enough of me now, can you, Goy Girl?’
‘Making up for lost time, FBF,’ I told her.
Deb was looking nice today, her light brown wig a good match for her colouring, far better than the heavy chestnut one she sometimes wore.
I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages,’ I said. ‘How come you have never once complained about wearing a sheitel?’
Her hand went automatically to her hair. ‘What made you think of that, you meshuggener?’
‘I’ve been wearing one, a bit.’
Deb put her head on one side. ‘Uh huh?’
‘On and off. Last few months.’
‘How come I haven’t seen this?’
‘Well, I, er, I just wear it to, er, when I serve Nathan breakfast, you know.’
I was already regretting starting the conversation, even though I knew I had to talk to someone about what had happened last night. And Deb was the only one I could tell.
Deb smirked at me. ‘Oh, I just put on a sheitel to serve Nathan breakfast. For Ha-Shem’s sake, Aliza, you are transparent.’
‘Honestly, it’s only to help Mum out.’
‘How thoughtful.’ She took a gulp of coffee. ‘So do you stay over with him to save your mum having to make the bed each morning?’
‘That is beneath you, Deb.’ But horribly close to home.
‘I expect you help him undress so your mum doesn’t have to go collecting his laundry.’
I laughed. ‘Anyway, tell me about you, Deb. Tell me about sheitels.’
‘Mrs Changey-the-Subject. Answer me one question, then I’ll talk sheitels till the cows come home, if you want.’
I sighed. I might as well get this over. ‘Go on, then.’
‘What’s going on with you and Nathan?’
‘Nothing?’ I said it too quickly, and with an uncertain inflexion that I hadn’t meant to put in.
‘Oh, the sort of nothing that means something!’
‘Look. It’s truly nothing. Not really.’ I coughed. ‘We just went out for a meal last night, and… well, nothing.’
‘You went for a meal on your own? On a Saturday night? Oy vay!’ Deb sat up straight, spilling coffee on her skirt. ‘Ouch! I can see from your face that something happened.’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘Will you stop saying “nothing”! And you waited till now to tell me! This is why you’ve come round at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning, and yet you let me sit here talking about wigs!’ She threw a cushion at me. ‘And?’ she shouted. ‘And? What happened?’
‘I’m really embarrassed,’ I said. How much should I say? I desperately wanted to talk about it, but I knew I couldn’t tell her all of it.
‘How did you get away with going out on your own together? Your mum would never agree to it.’
‘She didn’t know.’
‘But they’re all over you, you said. They always want to know where you’re going… oh.’ She clocked my sheepish expression. ‘You told her you were coming over here, didn’t you?’
‘Sorry, Deb.’
‘That’s all right, I might need you to do the same for me one of these days. If Michael invites his mother to stay for a week again, for instance, I’ll be the one needing an alibi.’
Deb was what passed in these parts as a woman of the world, but I knew she’d be horrified if I told her everything. She would judge me, and I couldn’t blame her; I judged myself. I didn’t want her to see me in a horrible new light, especially since she had only recently managed to get over the horrible new light she saw me in when I ran away with Alex.
‘So, Nathan wanted to buy me dinner as a thank you, for doing the breakfasts and things…’
‘What things?’ Deb jumped in.
‘Just the breakfasts, I mean.’
‘Go on.’
‘And. Well, it was nice.’
‘Dinner was nice. That’s it?
’
‘Yes.’
Deb studied my face. ‘What is it, I wonder, that you’re not saying?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I see our old friend, Mr Nothing, is back. Well? Does Nathan still like you?’
‘No?’ I said, and Deb laughed.
‘I’m going to get this out of you if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘There’s nothing to get,’ I said, examining my cup.
‘So let me ask you another question, hon. When are you going back to your husband?’
I shook my head. ‘He left me, Deb.’
‘I thought he was back in your flat now.’
That was true. Alex had sent me a text two weeks ago to let me know that he’d moved back in. He said he didn’t want to leave the place standing empty.
‘Maybe he’s waiting for you there,’ Deb said.
‘No. He just didn’t love me as much as I loved him.’
‘Why on earth would you think that?’
I’d been making this particular list in my head for months. I ticked the items off my fingers. ‘One: he left me. He didn’t exactly put up much of a fight for me. Soon as things got tough, he left. Two: he didn’t even want to marry me.’
‘Of course he did!’
‘He really didn’t. He wanted to live together. It was only because I forced him that we got married.’
‘Oh.’ Deborah was silent for a moment. ‘I didn’t realise that, Aliza.’
‘Three: he’s had hundreds of girlfriends. I was just the next one along. Seriously, Deb, I’m talking loads. He even lived with two others before me. In the same flat.’
‘Ugh.’
‘He even, he even kissed another woman practically in front of me.’
‘What?!’
I told her about the Vicky kiss, the pier, the white coat, him not admitting it till I confronted him. I didn’t bother her with the weird conversation I’d had with Kim on the rollercoaster. Thinking about that made me feel a little uncomfortable.
‘And he said she’d kissed him and he’d pulled away almost straight away, but, you know. What sort of idiot would believe that?’
‘Well,’ Deb said, ‘Vicky does sound the sort who might do something like that. Didn’t you say she’d always been keen on him?’
I thought about Vicky at Christmas, Alex trying to get away from her on the sofa.
‘OK, well, maybe the kiss wasn’t his fault, though I’m not sure he’d have told me about it if I hadn’t mentioned it. But there are lots of other things. Number four: he was always trying to change me, get me to do different things. You don’t change someone, do you, if you love them?’
‘Well… I’m always trying to get Michael to eat less like an animal.’
‘That’s different. He tried to change the way I dress, the food I eat, everything. And five…’ I trailed off, because I couldn’t remember number five.
‘We need more coffee.’ Deb swung her legs off the sofa. I followed her into the kitchen and leaned on the counter while she bustled about.
I rubbed at an imaginary mark on the fancy marble worktop. Anyone else would have thought this a perfect room but Deb was planning to rip everything out and start again.
‘When are you getting the new kitchen fitted?’
‘Excuse me, Crazy Kid. If you think I’m going to allow you to deflect this fascinating conversation, you have another think coming.’ She rinsed out the cups, and said casually, her back to me, ‘So how was the meal with Nathan?’
‘Very nice, thank you.’
‘You’re missing something out. I know you. What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Enough with the nothings already. No little searching glances? No mad passionate kisses?’
She was joking – it was utterly verboten for an unmarried couple, or even a married one come to that, to kiss in public. But her saying ‘kiss’ made my face heat up, and she saw this, and spread her arms wide in an ‘ah ha!’ gesture.
‘I can wait all day if I have to,’ she said.
I needed to tell her something. More than that, I wanted to. It was threatening to burst out of me.
‘All right, but if I tell you…’
She pressed her hand to her heart. ‘It will stay locked in here for ever, I promise.’
‘You can’t even tell Michael.’
‘Michael?’ Deb snorted. ‘He’s the last person I’d tell.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Stop stalling, Crazy Kid.’
‘Nathan kissed me.’
‘Excuse me?!’
‘You heard.’
‘Where?’ She gasped. ‘Not in the restaurant!’
‘In the taxi on the way back.’
‘You meshuggener! On the lips?’
I nodded. ‘I knew it!’ Deb said, and pressed her hand to her heart. ‘My god, your life, Aliza.’
‘I know.’
‘And so… and then…?’
‘That was it.’ I could see that this was more than enough for me to reveal. The rest would have to stay locked up inside me.
‘That was it?’ Deb said.
‘No confessions of love, no reconciliation?’
‘We got back to the house, agreed it had been a mistake, he apologised, and we parted on perfectly good terms,’ I lied.
‘Seriously?’
‘That’s all,’ I said, firmly. ‘I’m just going to the loo,’ I added, taking my betraying red cheeks out to the bathroom for a douse in cold water.
When I rejoined Deb on the sofa, I prompted her again to tell me about sheitels, before she could ask anything else.
She raised a sceptical eyebrow and passed me my mug. ‘OK, I’ll allow it. For now. Though I suspect there’s more you’re not telling.’
‘Your lack of trust in me is shocking, Deb.’
‘Oh yes? Well, I remember a certain person meeting a certain Goy Boy and not telling me anything much about that until it was, “Oh, by the way I love him – bye, everyone!”’
‘I can’t think who you’re talking about.’
‘You are quite a secretive person, Aliza Bloom. Sorry, Aliza Symons. Eliza Symons. What actually is your name? Who are you?’
‘Sheitels, Deborah Shapiro.’
She sighed. ‘All right. Well, in fact, I have complained plenty about wearing sheitels. I just didn’t complain to you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I suppose it’s one of those things you don’t discuss with people who haven’t had the experience. Like none of my other friends will talk to me about having children.’
‘Ah, Deb. I haven’t got kids either. Talk to me about that.’
Her face clouded over. ‘I’ve nothing to say on the topic.’
‘I’m sure it will happen for you soon.’
‘Neither Michael nor I want them yet.’
‘Well, that’s fine then, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe you could tell Michael’s mother that it’s fine. You wouldn’t believe how many times she can mention our lack of offspring in one short visit.’
‘I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?’
‘Continue to ignore her. And what are you going to do about your many men?’
‘Who’s Mrs Changey-the-Subject now? I don’t have many men, do I? I don’t have any. I’ve lost two in the time most people take to find one.’
‘Is it really all over with you and… Alex?’
The tiny hesitation before his name made me realise it was the first time she’d said it out loud to me. She usually referred to him, if at all, sarcastically, as ‘Goy Boy’.
‘Yes, I think it is all over,’ I said. ‘I think we were like a sparkler that burned brightly, and then fizzled out.’ I burst into tears, and Deb took the shaking mug out of my hands. She scooched round so she could put an arm round me.
‘It’s about time you told Aunty Deb all about him.’
And I did. For the first time, other than with Kim on the rollercoaster, I talked to someone about
my marriage. The excitement at the start, the way Alex made me feel, the newness, the tenderness between us. She laughed when I told her about the Re-education book.
‘Such a good idea! I could do lists for Mikey, like “Things You Don’t Understand About Me” and “Reading Between the Lines” and “Ten Ways to Tell Your Mother ‘No’”.’
‘He just wanted me to know the stuff he liked, to share it with me.’
‘That’s kind of cute, really. So, come on then, what went wrong? Did he not want you to see your Zaida?’
‘Oh, no. He was lovely about it. He offered to come with me.’
‘Well, what then? He didn’t want you reconnecting with the Blooms, I suppose.’
‘Not exactly. He kept complaining that I was at Mum’s too often, staying over there too much. Went on about how he never saw me any more.’ I felt indignant all over again. ‘Then after we had a big argument he saw me coming out of Zaida’s home with Nathan. I suppose he’d come to check up on me, and when he saw Nathan I guess he thought we…’ I stopped, because Deb was once again giving me her classic eyebrow raise.
‘You know who else does that?’ I said, pointing to her brow, in the hope of deflecting her from whatever she was going to say. ‘Roger Moore!’
‘Who?’
‘Actor. Used to play James Bond. He raised one eyebrow at a time, like you.’
‘Who’s James Bond? Listen, meshuggener, this is crazy even by your own high standards. You can’t split up over that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You were staying away from him! Overnight! A lot! What husband – or wife – would put up with that? I certainly wouldn’t. Imagine if Michael decided to start staying over at his mother’s house three times a week!’ She shook her head. ‘Alex probably just turned up at the home because he wanted to apologise after your row.’
That interpretation hadn’t occurred to me and I said nothing, which gave her the chance to ram the point home.
‘You were wrong,’ she said, jabbing me in the chest, ‘and he was right.’
‘I can’t believe you, Deb. You know how much I wanted to reconnect with my family.’
‘Maybe. But it also seemed to be your chance to play housewife with Nathan. I hope Alex didn’t know about all those cosy breakfasts!’
