The Two-Family House: A Novel (22 page)

What happened next was something Judith would always remember. She thought Uncle Abe would walk away then, or yell at Aunt Helen for hitting him. Judith assumed he would be furious at what had just occurred. She worried he might retaliate. But Uncle Abe didn’t do any of those things. He didn’t even look angry, just sad. He moved close to Aunt Helen and brushed her hair gently away from her face. He took a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and wiped away her tears. He kissed her on the cheek, not just once, but twice. And then he held her hand and pressed it to the spot where she had struck him. She folded herself into his embrace and allowed him to comfort her. The rest of them, including the rabbi, looked away. “Love is always forgiving,” the rabbi murmured under his breath.

Judith looked over at her mother and father. Pale and silent, they stood at least four feet apart from each other. Each was lost in a place of personal grief, and Judith wondered if either of them would ever be able to console the other.

In a few moments, the rabbi cleared his throat and announced that it was time to begin. Obediently, they followed him out of the chapel and into the main room for the service.

Chapter 42

NATALIE

Natalie threw up on the way to Teddy’s house from the cemetery. She asked her father to pull over first, and she managed to avoid her clothes, so it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Mostly she was relieved she hadn’t vomited at the cemetery because she thought that would have been disrespectful.

Back at Teddy’s house there were crowds of people she didn’t recognize. She looked for a drink to take away the bad taste in her mouth, but all she could find in the dining room was wine and a large urn of coffee, so she wandered into the kitchen to find a glass of juice. Mimi and Dinah were in the kitchen too, sneaking cookies from one of the dessert platters, while Mimi’s friend Josie rearranged the leftovers to make them look like nothing had been touched. Josie was the chubby, freckle-faced girl who lived next door. Her navy dress was well made but too tight, with buttons that pulled around her waist. Like Mimi, Josie was sixteen, but with none of Mimi’s easy beauty. She tended to follow Mimi around, hoping some of her glamour would rub off. It didn’t.

“Want a cookie?” Dinah asked Natalie. But Natalie couldn’t eat. She shook her head. “Do you have any juice? They only put out wine and coffee.”

Dinah opened the refrigerator and took out the orange juice. She handed Natalie a glass from the cabinet.

“Thanks,” Natalie told her.

Mimi said something to Josie then about sneaking a glass of wine, but Josie said they might get in trouble, so Mimi just sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. The other girls sat down with her.

“This is so sad,” Mimi said, looking up at the ceiling.

“So sad,” Josie echoed, with too much enthusiasm.

“The rabbi said it was a tragedy.”

“An awful tragedy.”

“Jeez, Jo! Would you stop repeating everything I say?”

“Sorry,” Josie mumbled, reaching for another cookie. Mimi gave her a dirty look, and Natalie felt sorry for her. “Do people usually call you Jo?”

The girl seemed surprised Natalie had noticed her. “No, mostly just Josie. Short for Josephine.”

“I figured,” Natalie told her. “Like in
Little Women
.”

“Yes.” Her face brightened.

“I remember that book,” Mimi interjected. “The really poor family with the four girls. And then one of them died. If Teddy was a girl, that would have been exactly the same as us.”

“Not exactly,” Dinah said. “In the book Beth dies, but she isn’t the youngest.”

Mimi was annoyed. “The point
is
there are four children and one of them dies. It doesn’t matter which one.”

“That’s true,” Josie was quick to agree.

Mimi went on, “If I were one of the sisters in that book I’d be Amy. She’s beautiful and she gets to go on a trip to Europe. She’s an artist, like me. And she marries the really rich boy from across the street.”

Dinah chimed in, “I’d be Meg.”

“Who cares?” Mimi rolled her eyes and sulked. “This is so boring. I can’t believe we have to do this for a whole week. Dad covered up all the mirrors in the house and this morning Judith started yelling at me just because I lifted the cloth up a tiny bit to check my face.”

Josie was Catholic and had never heard of the custom. “Why do you cover the mirrors?”

Mimi was busy examining her nails, so Natalie tried to give an explanation. “When someone close to you dies, you’re not supposed to care about what you look like. So we cover up the mirrors.”

“Oh,” said Josie. “That makes sense.”

“It’s stupid,” Mimi snapped. “And even if it isn’t, Judith still didn’t have to be so mean about it. Just because
she
doesn’t care what she looks like doesn’t mean the rest of us have to go around looking hideous.”

Natalie thought Judith was pretty, but she didn’t want to say so and start something unpleasant with Mimi. “Thanks for the juice,” she said. “I’m going to go find my mom now.” She put her glass in the sink and went looking for her mother in the living room.

Natalie’s mother hadn’t said one word on the way over to Teddy’s house. Natalie knew she was upset, so she wanted to check on her. Her mother was the only one who truly understood how important Teddy was to her, who knew that he wasn’t just a cousin or a friend. Her mother thought Teddy was special too. She knew it.

The living room in Teddy’s house was large but dull. It was decorated in monochromatic shades of beige and none of the couches or chairs was comfortable. Over the years Natalie had tried sitting in every spot, so she knew from experience just how uncomfortable all of them were. Once she and Teddy had gone from chair to chair and couch to couch like Goldilocks in the Three Bears’ parlor. “This one is too soft,” she would say after sitting on one. “And this one is too hard,” Teddy would rumble after resting on another. But there wasn’t a single place that was “just right” in the whole room.

Natalie spotted her mother on one of the too-hard couches near the fireplace. There was an open place next to her on the right side, so Natalie scooted in and sat down. Her mother’s arm immediately went around her, even though her head was turned so she could listen to the woman on her left. Natalie didn’t know who the woman was, but her gray-blond hair was swept up in an elegant hairstyle and she was wearing diamond earrings. She was much older than Natalie’s mother but still pretty.

“Stuart’s brother was eighty-two but still so vibrant. We came north last week for his funeral on Tuesday, and then we got the call yesterday about poor Teddy. It’s horrible—two funerals in one week. But I’m grateful we were in New York so we could be here today.”

“I’m sure it’s a great comfort to have you here, especially for Rose.”

“Yes, well, my niece is very special to me.” She peeked around Helen to get a look at Natalie. “Now who is this lovely young lady?”

“This is my daughter, Natalie. She and Teddy were born on the same day—I’m sure you’ve heard the story. Natalie was with Teddy yesterday during the accident.”

“Oh dear.” The woman took Natalie’s hand and held it. She was wearing a lot of gold rings with diamonds and other stones. “That must have been terrible for you.”

Natalie wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thank you,” she managed to say, taking her hand back. “Are you one of the neighbors?”

The woman smiled. “No, dear. I’m Aunt Faye, Rose’s aunt. Her mother was my sister.”

“You’re the rich aunt! With the fancy apartment,” she said.

“Natalie!” Her mother was mortified.

“Oh, it’s all right, dear.” Aunt Faye was amused. “I am rich, and my apartment
is
fancy.” She turned to Natalie to explain. “I never had any children, so I never had to worry about buying expensive things. There’s no one around to break them.”

“That’s sad,” Natalie told her.

“Natalie! Enough!” It was her mother again. “I’m so sorry, Faye, she really isn’t herself.”

“Nonsense, dear, the child is perfectly right. It
is
sad.”

Natalie nodded. “Did you want to have children?”

“Yes, dear, very much. But, as they say, it wasn’t in the cards.”

“Oh.” Natalie must have looked particularly glum just then, because her mother told her she was going to get her a cookie. Helen got up from the couch, patted her daughter on the head and started walking in the direction of the dining room. Natalie was left alone with Aunt Faye.

“I’m going to tell you something I don’t tell a lot of people,” Aunt Faye said to her. She scooted a little bit closer on the couch. “Have you ever heard of Emily Dickinson?” Natalie shook her head. “Of course—you’re too young. Well, Emily Dickinson was a very brilliant woman. She was a poet and she was also what people call a recluse. She didn’t like to leave her house. Anyway, someone gave me a book of her poetry when I graduated from high school. I never even opened it. But years later, after my husband and I were married, I looked at it. I remember the day because it was after I had miscarried for the third time—I couldn’t stay pregnant long enough to have a baby. So there I was at home, in my apartment.” Aunt Faye paused then and smiled. “My very
fancy
apartment. I had nothing to do so I opened the book and read the poems. And that was when I found a special poem that helped me feel better.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t remember all of it, but the first part goes like this.” Aunt Faye cleared her throat and closed her eyes. “‘I measure every Grief I meet, with analytic eyes—I wonder if it weighs like Mine—or has an Easier size.’”

“I don’t understand.”

“It
is
difficult to understand, isn’t it? Of course everyone has their own ideas, but I think it means that everyone has some sadness in life. Maybe someone they love is sick or died, or maybe someone they love doesn’t love them back. Maybe they don’t have enough money for something they really need. For me it was that I couldn’t have a baby. But for another person the grief could be something different. Something they wish they did or something they wish they didn’t do.”

“Oh.”

“We always think our own grief is the worst—worse than everybody else’s. But the truth is, we never know for sure what the people around us are feeling. I have had some bad things happen, but then a lot of wonderful things happened to me, too. An awful thing happened to you yesterday. But you mustn’t let it ruin the happiness that lies ahead for you, dear.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Now, that’s enough talk from a silly old lady.”

Natalie got up off the couch and hugged Aunt Faye. “I don’t think you’re silly,” she told Faye. “And you have really pretty earrings.”

Faye threw back her head then and laughed. A few of the people in the room turned to see who was laughing so loudly. Maybe you’re not supposed to laugh when someone dies, Natalie thought, but I think it might help.

Chapter 43

ABE

Abe was relieved when Natalie threw up on the way back from the cemetery. Nothing felt normal before she got sick by the side of the road. The sight of it finally made the boys in the backseat talk again.
Gross! Who knew she could puke that far?
He was happy to hear their comments, no matter how obnoxious they were.

Abe thought he knew how difficult the day would be for Helen. But when she fell apart at the funeral home he realized he had not fully grasped the depth of her grief. To be told she wasn’t worthy of wearing the mourner’s ribbon had pushed her over the edge.

Seeing Natalie get sick snapped Helen out of her reverie. She had jumped out of the car to help Natalie clean her face and smooth back her hair. And for the rest of the ride Harry took the front seat next to Abe while Helen crammed into the back of the car with Natalie on her lap. Squeezed in with the boys, Helen was close enough to smell the mint of George’s toothpaste and the chemicals from Sam’s hair pomade. There was comfort for her in the closeness of her children.

By the time they got to Mort’s house, Helen’s heartbreak was slightly less visible. Abe saw that it was easier for her to talk to strangers, so he steered her toward people he didn’t recognize. Whenever he saw Rose getting close, he purposefully led Helen to the other side of the room.

After an hour passed, Abe decided to go in search of his brother. He left Helen in the care of Rose’s Aunt Faye and walked upstairs to Mort and Rose’s room. The door was open and there was no sign of Mort.

Farther down the hall, the door to Teddy’s room was shut. Abe knocked softly, then entered. He found his brother, sitting at Teddy’s desk, staring down at the collection of notebook paper, baseball cards, marbles and other little-boy paraphernalia precariously piled on top. It was clear that nothing had been touched since Teddy had left for school the day before. Mort’s face was expressionless, his eyes blank. Abe approached carefully, not wanting to startle him. “Hey, Mort.”

But Mort didn’t answer. He sat perfectly still, his body erect, straight against the back of the desk chair. Abe stood behind him and carefully placed his right hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How about you come downstairs with me and I’ll get you a drink. Or maybe something to eat? Are you hungry?”

There was a barely perceptible shaking of the head. Abe didn’t see it, but he felt it. He wanted to lean over and embrace Mort then, to share his brother’s burden, but all he could manage was to keep his hand where it was, motionless on Mort’s shoulder. Abe was frozen, connected to his brother by only the slightest touch of his fingertips. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed. He had no way to extricate himself. He felt it would have been unbearably cruel.

“Uncle Mort? Are you there?” It was Natalie, bustling up the steps, shattering their silence with movement and sound. This time Mort answered. “In here,” he said.

Natalie peeked in, saw Mort in the chair and ran over to hug him. She hadn’t been able to get near him at the funeral, and now Abe watched in amazement as his brother accepted Natalie’s embrace. For close to half an hour he had stood behind Mort, barely touching him, scarcely speaking, trying to find some way to communicate his sympathy, his solidarity, his love. All that Abe had contemplated, Natalie accomplished in an instant.