DISOWNED (12 page)

  This story helps her in many ways. Little by little, her fear is melting away.

She sees Marty every day now too. They walk along the beach for miles, and he tells her about his mother who he loves very much and his father who just died. He also has three brothers and one sister, all of whom are very important to him.

   "My whole family would like you very much."

I doubt it, Rivkah feels. Deep in her heart she dreads going there.

"Do you want to come and visit us someday?" Marty asks again, one afternoon as they walk along the shore.

   "Some day."

   "What's the matter?" Marty is upset. "When you say someday, I get the feeling you mean never. And I get the feeling you're going to tell me maybe I can't come to visit you. You've never invited me, you know."

   "I know."

  And then from out of nowhere, the old words of her grandmother course through Rivkah like a rushing stream. In every generation people come to the destroy the Jewish people Rivkah, she hears her grandmother's firm voice inside. There are lots of ways to do it too. When a Jew assimilates, this is one way. Another is when you marry an assimilated Jew. 

   "Our relationship could hurt a lot of people, Marty," Rivkah cries out finally.

"How? I don't know what you're talking about."

Rivkah is shaken. Waves of the past drift all around her. "Walking on beaches, holding hands. She wasn’t raised to do this. 

   "Whatever we do, it takes a toll," says Rivkah.

   "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm also a Jew."

 You have no idea what that really means, Rivkah wants to cry out loud. "Marty," she says with a trembling voice though, "don't be mad at me please.  You're right about everything and also you're wrong. But still, I like you very much."

"You do?"

   "Very much."

  "How much?"

"You're very important to me." It takes all of her strength to say those words then.

   "I think of you day and night, Rivkah," his voice catches now.

   A flush of warmth, love, fear and trembling all simultaneously invade her soul.

   Marty digs his foot into the sand a little harder now, rubbing his toes around and around.

   "But you're a different kind of Jew, really. You're just like my father," she says.

   "Nothing at all," he answers fast.

   "You don't even know him."

   "I know I'm nothing like your father," Marty cries out swiftly, "because I love you."

The words burst out by themselves, sweet and deep, arising like perfume between them in the hot, misty, summer air.

 Tears bathe Rivkah's eyes.

"And I know your father doesn't love you," Marty goes on, braver, "because if he loved you, you wouldn't be here so much. You wouldn't be so all alone."

   Rivkah has no way to stop the hot tears from falling now. They fall for a long time with a force of their own.

   "I'm sorry,"

   "It's all right," Rivkah mumbles in the midst of her crying.

   "It's just that I love you.  Really, I do."

   It hurts Rivkah to hear that, deeply.

   Rivkah takes his face in her hands then. 

Stunned, he breathes in for a moment sharply. Then he draws her swiftly to him, close, delighted, in an embrace that holds and fills them both for a long, long time.

  "What's so bad about this?" he murmurs.

   But in the fullness of the moment, all words, thoughts, injunctions, disappear of themselves and what is left between them is only the rare and bewildering taste of love.

CHAPTER 11

Now Rivkah is different. A skin is shedding, a beautiful skin, delicate, rare, holy even. But still it is shedding and in its place begins to grow the strong and toughened skin of those who

live and love in the world.

Henry feels Rivkah's changes although he cannot even begin to articulate them. He feels and resents them.  But Henry seems much less threatening to Rivkah now.  She feels larger besides him, more fortified. When he corners her, she pays no attention, just slips quietly by. She comes and goes now, like a stranger, almost a boarder in her own home.

   It is the end of summer and Rivkah has grown strong, tan and graceful. She is wearing a simple cotton dress and carrying her old, blue, duffle bag over her shoulder.

   Tonight, Henry is more persistent than usual. "What do you do so much at the beach? And who do you do it with? Huh?"

For a moment he looks only pitiful to her.

"Come on," he goes on, "I want the whole truth."

   "I have no whole truth to give you," Rivkah says carefully, as she slips out the door.

   "You're changing, Bekkie," he calls out to her.

   "Yes," she answers over her shoulder. "I know I am."

*  *  *

Marty, too, has become more persistent. He wants to come home with Rivkah and meet her family. Half-heartedly, she agrees.

Rivkah does not tell her parents that Marty is coming over later that week. They have decided that he'll just stop in and meet her parents casually.

   At eight thirty in the middle of the week, Marty arrives and rings the doorbell softly.

   "Who's there?" Henry calls out.

   "A friend of mine."

   "Who?"

   From time to time she has had some girlfriends from school come by. Never has a boy visited her. She opens the front door gingerly and Marty is standing there showered, with a fresh white shirt on. His hair is combed back perfectly and he looks a little scared. Rivkah has never seen him looking so sparkling before.

   "Come in," she whispers, and he walks up the three front stairs to the door.

   "Who is it?" Molly calls out more loudly now.

   For a very long moment Rivkah does not answer.

   "You have to introduce me," he says, "it can't be avoided."

   "All right, Mary. Come in." 

   Rivkah's heart is beating fast. Come in, come into my life, my fears, my hopes. Come into the hiding places I have constructed.  They step together into the living room. Henry is reading the paper. He looks up for a moment, stares and stops. His paper falls into his lap by itself.

   "Who is this?" He never takes his eyes off Marty.

   "This is a friend." 

   But Henry interrupts her with a violent call, "Molly. Molly, get in here."

   Both Marty and Rivkah shiver.

   "He's a good friend," Rivkah tries to calm him. "His name is Marty."

Henry stands up as Molly comes rushing in.  "Marty who? “His face is flushed.

   "Who's this?" Molly arrives with eyes wide open.

   "Marty," Rivkah replies.

   "Marty who?" Henry repeats himself.

   Rivkah knows she has brought in a rival, an emissary from another world.

   "He's my boyfriend, Marty."

"You're what?" Henry is speechless.

   "Boyfriend."

   "Since when?"

   "For a long time now," Marty answers by himself. He speaks evenly and in a warm tone.

   "I don't believe it," Molly says.  She is looking at them both with glazed eyes.

   "What don't you believe?" Marty asks her.

   "Bekkie never said a word."

   "I'm glad to meet you," Marty stretches out his hand.

   Neither parent takes it.  He leaves it there anyway, a moment too long.

Finally Henry speaks. "Sit down, Marty," he says in a preemptory tone.

   They sit down together, Henry and Marty next to one another on the long, new, pale blue sofa.  The glow of evening fills the room. For a very long while, no words are spoken at all.

   "Well," Henry finally breaks the silence, "how long has this been going on?"

   "We've known each other for a few months," Marty answers.

   Henry stares at Rivkah again. "And you never said a word."

Rivkah says nothing.

"Everything behind our back!" Henry speaks louder. "Molly," he calls out swiftly. "Your mother and I are going out for a walk. We'll talk things over and see you both when we return."

Then he gets up, takes Molly's arm and they evacuate the premises. Rivkah and Marty are left there alone.

"Take care of your little brother," Molly calls back to Rivkah as she and Henry walk out the door.

   "Not very friendly," Marty says quietly.

   "Things are what they are," Rivkah replies.

   Molly and Henry return in about fifteen minutes. Molly will not look either at Rivkah or Marty. Her face is completely flushed.

  "You're not ready for this, Bekkie," Molly says to her. "Your father and I don't like it at all."

   But by now Molly has become almost a total stranger to Rivkah. Rivkah looks at her from a distance almost as if she were a shadow projected momentarily on a wall.

"Come on, we're going," Rivkah says to Marty then.

"Going? Where?" Molly calls out behind them as they walk to the door.

   Before Rivkah and Marty leave, Marty turns to Henry, and once more extends his hand. "It was nice to meet you."

  Henry does not respond. He leaves Marty just standing there, his hand extending out in the air.

  **

The next morning Molly goes straight to Rivkah's room. But Rivkah has put a lock on the door.

   "Open the door."

 "Not right now."

    "Why did you bring him home?" Molly calls from outside the locked door.

"I like him."

"And what exactly does that mean?"  Molly's voice sounds thin and chilled.

   "Very much," Rivkah repeats, opens the door and stands in the doorway. She is dressed simply in a khaki dress. Her eyes lock with her mothers. Molly's eyes look like they're losing control. "We didn't raise you for this."

   "For what?" Rivkah will not yield an inch.

"You don't understand what boys are really like, what they all want from girls."

"What do they want?"

Molly breathes in deeply and Rivkah suddenly remembers the incredible day when her breasts started to grow.

  "Dirt, it's all dirt," Molly tries to whisper. But Rivkah won't take it.

"I like Marty very much," she replies.

   "You what? You think we raised you to be a whore?"

 Rivkah reels.

"You were raised to be pure. You come from Yeshiva." Molly seems strangely heartened. "What would your grandmother say if she saw you with that boy?"

   Rivkah stands up straighter. "And what would she say to you if she saw you were not keeping Sabbath, and walking around with your hair dyed and curled?"

"Fresh. Rude! How dare you!"

"How dare you call me a whore!"

   "I didn't say you were a whore!  But believe me, it could happen. And it doesn't take long either. A few more dates with a boy like that. And out on the beach! One thing leads to another."

"He's a wonderful boy," Rivkah answers softly, more to herself than to her.

   "He's nothing," Molly spits quickly. "Is he religious?"

   "Are you?" Furious, Rivkah glares at her now. "Is my father?"

   "What right do you have to ask if we're religious?  We do what we can. At least we know who we are."

   In that moment, enemies, they glare at one another.

"And I happen to know," Molly breaks the icy silence, "that religious boys won't try things on girls. Other boys will. It's as simple as that."

"Mamma, mamma," Rivkah calls out, suddenly fragile, suddenly yearning for her mother's regard, wanting Molly to come, hold her  gently and say yes. Yes, darling, yes. Life is good. Love is wonderful. I'm happy for you. I really am.

   But Molly cannot. "You're asking for trouble. Bigger trouble than you can handle. And I happen to know a boy like Marty is the kind who goes from one to another. He ruins girls. Drives them crazy. He makes them feel all sorts of things they aren't supposed to feel."

"I want to feel them."

"What?"

"You heard me, mamma."

   "So, before long you'll be ruined."

   "Ruined?"

  "I was good all my life. I was pure. Holy. I didn't touch anybody and they didn't touch me. When your father came for me, I walked down the aisle wrapped in white satin. How about you?"

Molly looks at Rivkah wildly now. "Will we be able to wrap you in white satin? Can I say the same about you?"

   Rivkah's insides start to tremble now with fear, rage, and horror.

"You can't say anything about me," Rivkah cries out shrilly.

"What? Tell me you're clean!" Molly's voice shatters the afternoon. "Tell me you haven't been with that boy!"

   Blind with pain and torment, Rivkah flies to another room.

   Molly chases fast. "Tell me now, right now. Has it happened? Are you ruined?"

   Rivkah turns and stares at her mother wildly. "It's happened, mamma!"

   Molly gasps.

   "It's too late," Rivkah goes on, her voice rising, piercing the afternoon the other way. "Too late for everything now. I'm ruined. Destroyed. Finished forever. I have loved someone and he has loved me. If that is ruined, then I am."

   Molly falls down on the sofa then and starts to breathe heavily, as Rivkah flies out the front door, down the stoop, and away from a world she cannot live in.