Divorcing

by Susan Taubes

  (The RABBIS signify their agreement with Ezra. The men put on prayer shawls, phylacteries; a Messianic psalm is sung. Everybody embraces. Rabbis and their families exeunt dancing, singing. The JUDGE calls for a short intermission.)

  SOPHIE. (Aside to Ezra) You miserable ideologue! You know I never swallowed that rot about redemption through sin. Your arse hole was the cleanest part of you, if you must know...

  LANDSMANN. At last I can have a cigaret.

  EZRA. Well, Landsmann, did I—?

  (Exeunt Ezra, Landsmann, et al. Sophie’s three children run into the courtroom. They clamber into the coffin and huddle beside her, Jonathan and Toby in a fit of giggles.)

  JOSHUA. If you babies could control yourself a little.

  SOPHIE. Children!

  JOSHUA. Are you having a good time? Come on, Mum, you can tell me the truth. You’re not really dead are you? You know there was this woman who pretended to be a ghost in a TV show—

  TOBY. Please don’t move. I’m trying to keep covered.

  JONATHAN. Please hide us!

  SOPHIE. What’s the matter?

  TOBY. Aunt Renata wants to take us to some crappy children’s theater. We want to stay home and see the four o’clock show on TV.

  JONATHAN. Why can’t we stay with you?

  JOSHUA. Remember when we all used to take a bath together—

  TOBY. And the great pillow fight—

  SOPHIE. We can’t talk here; everything is taped. Quick, just tell me how you are.

  JOSHUA. The skiing is great—

  TOBY. I have a talking doll. If only we didn’t have to go to the synagogue.

  JONATHAN. I like going to the synagogue. (He pulls out an embroidered skullcap) Daddy’s student is teaching me to pray; he says I’m going to be a rabbi.

  JOSHUA. Oh really! He doesn’t even know the Hebrew alphabet.

  SOPHIE. Children, listen—

  (The children are all talking at once)

  TOBY. You put the record in the doll’s side and she does multiplication and spelling—

  JONATHAN. It’s beautiful when they take out the Torah—

  JOSHUA. I think children have a right to know. It’s really unfair—

  SOPHIE. Children, listen.

  JOSHUA. Hey, what time is it? (He looks at her wristwatch) C’mon Toby—we got to run.

  JONATHAN. I don’t watch TV. I’m going to the synagogue to pray with Grandpa.

  (They kiss her hurriedly and scramble out)

  JONATHAN. But I don’t believe everything they tell me. I don’t think God loves only people who pray to him in Hebrew and (He whispers in her ear) I like Jesus, too. Don’t tell Grandpa.

  (Exeunt children. Enter EZRA, LANDSMANN, JURY, LAWYERS and JUDGE.)

  JUDGE. May I remind the jury once more in our final session that we are dealing with several actions on which you will decide separately. (He reads) Ezra Blind, in behalf of children, suing Icelandic Airlines. We are awaiting further evidence. Ezra Blind sues morgue of rue Bobillot for false death certificate. Insanity charge submitted by Dr. Rudolf Landsmann. Sophie Blind divorce action against Ezra Blind. Proceed with your first witness.

  BLOOM. Will Mrs. Lily Bodola please take the witness stand. (A pale, emaciated, once beautiful redhead in her forties, wearing a stark black dress and a wide-rimmed black hat with a veil, is led to the witness stand by a uniformed nurse, and sworn in) Is it true that you are a widow presently convalescing at a rest home?

  BODOLA. He ruined me. But I’ll pay him back. If it takes all what’s left of my three million dollars. He will bleed. Pus will run out of his ears, his tongue will fall out.

  (She composes herself)

  BLOOM. We realize how painful it must be for you. We regret to have to put you through this. Could you tell the court about your relationship to Ezra Blind?

  BODOLA. He seduced me by lies. In the seven years I am widowed I have never had relations with a married man. Never. It was strictly against my principles. But I believed the stories he told me about his insane wife, breaking his spirit, resorting to every vicious means of holding on to him. (She rises, screaming at Ezra) You lied to me! You lied to me!

  EZRA. But sweetheart, you wouldn’t sleep with me otherwise.

  BODOLA. We were going to settle in Rio after I arranged your Mexican divorce. We were going to travel around the world. (To the court) In Montreux we talked about settling in Paris. In Paris we talked about running away to India. I bought a house in the Black Forest. For two years I had lawyers working for him on three continents so that we would be free to marry; I told him I couldn’t go on with these clandestine meetings. For two years he had me running around in circles till he told me he was really in love with his wife all the time. He was distraught that his wife had left him. What can he do? How can he save his marriage? With the same sublime sincerity as when he seduced me. In my opinion this man should be institutionalized.

  BLOOM. Thank you, Mrs. Bodola.

  (She is led out of the courtroom by the nurse)

  EZRA. (Shaking his head) Menopause crisis. Such a fine person. A pity.

  JUDGE. Next witness.

  BLOOM. Mrs. Elaine Singer. (A pretty, pregnant young woman is sworn in and takes the witness stand) Mrs. Singer. You live in Larchmont with your husband, and have a two-year-old daughter.

  SINGER. That’s right.

  BLOOM. When did you meet Ezra Blind?

  SINGER. Eight years ago. I was seventeen.

  BLOOM. What was your relationship to Ezra Blind?

  SINGER. He deflowered me. I used to baby-sit for his children. It was one of the most beautiful experiences in my life. I was worried about how his wife would feel. But he said it was a marriage of love.

  BLOOM. Could you describe how it happened.

  SINGER. It just happened. One day he came into the bathroom when I was sitting on the toilet—the lock didn’t close well; I was a little embarrassed, but he smiled and came right in and said he was delightfully surprised to find me on the toilet. He said to the clean all things are clean—and he did it too. He pissed. Then he told me he could see that I was a virgin and that I was ready to become a woman. And we went to bed. I remember I was very happy.

  JUDGE. Next witness.

  (MISS RUTH EMORY, a smiling gray-haired woman in a tweed suit, is sworn in)

  BLOOM. Miss Emory I understand you work with the Women’s Interfaith Union in Milton, New Jersey.

  EMORY. I am the head of Personal Relations.

  BLOOM. When did you meet Ezra Blind?

  EMORY. Three years ago. I went to a lecture he was giving on “Agapic and Erotic Theology in Judaism” at the local chapter of the interfaith union and we talked afterwards.

  BLOOM. What was your relationship to Ezra Blind?

  EMORY. We only spent one evening together but I really enjoyed it. I didn’t know about cunnilingus and other Jewish customs before; I believe we Americans have something to learn from all peoples.

  BLOOM. Thank you Miss Emory. (BETTINA HERTZ, a plump, blond, heavily made-up woman in a blue taffeta suit is sworn in) When did you meet Ezra Blind?

  HERTZ. We’ve known each other for over ten years.

  BLOOM. What is your relationship to Ezra Blind?

  HERTZ. We’ve been friends, colleagues. We’ve discussed, collaborating on a book on...

  BLOOM. Nothing beyond that?

  HERTZ. I would like to help out my friend Sophie. I realize she’s been wanting this divorce for a long time, but actually...well I find this is in very bad taste but since I’ve been subpoenaed and you say I’m under oath...well, if you insist—I can think of one occasion which you might interpret...I am not familiar with legal terminology.

  BLOOM. Could you simply tell the court what happened.

  HERTZ. Well, I don’t know.

  EZ
RA. May I testify to save Miss Hertz the embarrassment? During Christmas week two years ago when she so kindly put me up in her apartment in Paris, I knocked on her bedroom door some time after midnight. I have the greatest admiration for Miss Hertz’s sensibility. I have always regarded her a most extraordinary and attractive woman. I was dazzled by her sensibility and I wished to know her—biblically, I mean—I knocked on her bedroom door in the hope of carnal pleasure. I found her most alluring in her nightgown; I must confess, however, to my own deficiency. My only explanation for it is that Miss Hertz’s pubic hair was the same shade as my mother’s hair—a reddish blond—and incest fear prevented me from consummating the carnal act. It was the only time I disappointed a woman.

  JUDGE. Will the parents testify?

  LANDSMANN. I can only speak as a psychoanalyst. From a Freudian point of view I find the procedure of this trial very painful. How can a jury evaluate my daughter’s character without even touching on the crucial factors of her infantile sexual development? The fact is that a woman’s success as a wife depends entirely on how she has resolved her oedipal conflicts. I have no further statement to make.

  JUDGE. Thank you Dr. Landsmann. Is her mother present?

  EZRA. She came and left. But we have teletyped an interview.

  (Video screen shows KAMILLA sunbathing on the lawn)

  KAMILLA. I never understood how my daughter could live the life of an ordinary housewife. She gave up a theatrical career—sacrificed herself for a boor like Ezra Blind. A grobbianer, a peasant. It breaks my heart. If she would have had some lovers at least. But she never listened to me. I wanted my daughter to have a different life, to dress in style, go out to concerts, balls, the theater, to travel. I wanted her to be surrounded by rich admirers and have great love affairs. Instead when I think of the kitchen smells, stinking diapers, the children screaming and that brute of a husband of hers...(She weeps) Everywhere I visited her the house reminded me of a gypsy camp. She looked like she’d never been to a coiffeur and the way she dressed...I’ve never seen anything like that except in movies. It’s hard for a mother. She comes from a good house. I saved all my expensive fur coats for her from the Nazis and the Russians. She wouldn’t even...

  JUDGE. Enough! Court rules: No injunction to return wife to husband or to release her to rabbis since it has not been proven that she is dead. Her divorce is granted, whether she is alive or dead.

  (The coffin is turned upright. SOPHIE is presented with a Bill of Divorce.)

  EZRA. I protest the ruling of the court. My wife objects. We had a Catholic marriage. (Addressing SOPHIE, who is about to walk out) Sophie, quick—you must protest. We’re married, tell them we’re married! Look, I gave the confession, risked my public reputation, to get you out of a mess—save you from the rabbis; you’re not going to act like a bitch and take advantage of me? (EZRA tries to snatch the Bill of Divorce away from her) You can’t do this to me. I didn’t marry a bitch. (SOPHIE tosses him a peacock feather and walks out) Stop her! I protest. My wife was drugged. The verdict is illegal. I want to testify. What about her insanity? I demand to be heard.

  JUDGE. The court has been adjourned for the summer. No further hearings till after Labor Day.

  EZRA. This is unheard of. I won’t accept. I will take this case to—

  JUDGE. (Amiably) You can always marry your former wife again. It’s no problem.

  EZRA. (Weeping) I could believe anything, but not that my wife is a bitch.

  WAKING up with Ezra in a small rive gauche hotel room; shades drawn. Back in Paris? They say you relive your entire life in the instant of death. Unpacked suitcase, his things strewn over the bed on top of her. He paces and rants. “I saved you from the loony bin and what thanks⁠—”

  He taunts her with the divorce bill, rolling it up, wags it obscenely like a penis. “So now you’ve got a divorce. So now what have you got. Look at me when I talk to you. Schweinehund. Drecksau. Look at me. Say something, idiot. Why don’t you say something?”

  Would he treat her better if she had big tits and a giant bum? No. Yes. Could mistreat her better. More in his style.

  “Lost your chance. For the rest of your life...” he is threatening her. Tears. “Had enough of your emotionalism,” he pursues. In transport of tears, hear German words like cracks of a whip. Not sure if he’s pulled off the sheet. Is he beating her? Is she giggling, dancing? Cynical, a nihilist. Writhing with uncontrollable laughter.

  “Sophie, don’t leave me like this. Sophie!” he sobs.

  Some way to comfort him? Can’t speak. Water rising warm around chin, back of my neck. Oh, Ezra I shall never be able to explain to you. Proof or no proof I’m afraid I’m really dead. Stopped breathing. Just like the night we got engaged. No, you wouldn’t remember; we’re so different.

  Blaze. Cynical. Nihilist. Bitch, you call me. It’s true; I can’t help it—and now all this has become irrelevant.

  *

  Happy here swimming around in my underwater cove. A mermaid just what I wanted to be. Wishes fulfilled of the dead. Now, to find a merman.

  Visitors coming? See foot kick in black shoe. Ezra? Would be greatly surprised. To the ends of the earth but not to the bottom of the sea. Has his limits. Black tie flapping. Wonder who. Anyway, don’t have to worry about dressing. Just wrap fishtail around rock and sit pretty. It’s Nicholas, kicking and waving his arms.

  “Here, hold on to this rock so you won’t be washed away.” Sits legs crossed wedged in the tub, hair brushed upward by current, a weird sight—try not to giggle. Starts intoning in Greek. It’s too much.

  “I did not know the dead laughed,” he observes bitterly. Not impressed by my hilarity; got special permit to descend; complains about the unseemliness of my death. “...I find your name under Accidents de Route. Why didn’t you drown yourself at least? Wasn’t your life wretched enough? In the fifteen years of your senseless marriage to Ezra couldn’t you find an opportune moment—?”

  “There wasn’t enough water under the Pont de Sèvres.”

  “Other people seem to manage.”

  “You don’t understand anything about a woman’s life.”

  “Will you never accept that you’re a fiction!”

  “Is that all you came to tell me?”

  “You look ridiculous with that fishtail. I expected you to come to my concert. I wrote you I was playing in Warsaw.” He looks at his watch. “It starts in two minutes. That’s all right. Let them wait.” He laughs fiendishly. “Hitler always let the crowd wait at least forty minutes. Produces the proper state of hysteria. By the way, Ezra asked me to give this to you in Paris.” Hands me bunch of letters. Nothing from Ivan.

  “You look so disappointed,” he laughs, “do you expect some important mail?”

  Lost each other in the water. Just as well.

  *

  How funny; I heard Aunt Olga’s voice. Just like on long-distance phone from Pittsburgh to New York.

  “Sophie, listen to me carefully—you understand if I talk to you in Hungarian? Never forget that you’re a lady and you’ll be treated like a lady. I’ll tell you something else: You’re not an angel, no woman is. I’ve never done anything my husband or my children have had to be ashamed of. I’ll be sixty next year and I can’t swear to you that tomorrow a man can’t turn my head. I don’t say it can’t happen to me because I don’t know. And don’t you ever say it couldn’t have happened to you. As for your mother—forget about her. You two have nothing in common. That was a nice wedding you had and I’m glad to see you got married. The one thing I want you to remember, listen to me and you won’t regret it: You can have all the fun you want with your husband once you’re in bed, but never undress in his presence. I don’t care if you’re married ten years and have six children, you don’t let him see you in a slip; you always come to bed in a nightgown—and naturally you lock the bathroom door when you brush your teeth. You fo
llow my advice and you won’t regret it—and of course none of this nonsense of your taking a shower while he shaves—I’m telling you, I’ve been married almost forty years now and I don’t lie to you that I’m a virtuous woman...And never forget that if you ever need me, if ever you’re in trouble, you call me wherever you are—reverse the charges if you haven’t got cash. All you have to do is call and say ‘Aunt Olga, I need you’ and I come with the next bus. And promise me you’ll always keep your nails clean...”

  Yes, I know, I believe you Aunt Olga. I know you’d come and I know you’re right. It’s because I didn’t lock the bathroom that everything went wrong. I know you love me and you’re so right about everything. A nail file won’t save me now. Let’s see what’s in the mail. A German stamp. Wonder who? Heinrich Dieter Uhl: “...looked you up in Paris and was sorry to learn...If this reaches you...” He should have carried me away from Ezra ten years ago! Bank wants my Social Security number; fifth request...If I’d be interested in doing a book on contemporary religious sects in America...More rubbish...Renata sends photograph of the children. Dressed like for the synagogue. Boys in white shirt and tie; hair slicked back. Toby in expensively dreary wool dress; the bored expression on their faces. Makes me sick. Must find some way to see them. I suppose I should sit on a rock and sing.

  • •

  The telephone again.

  “Ivan—How are you? Yes I’m quite awake...At three you say? Yes, I’m in.”

  Drop in. Just like that! Ringing me up after months of silence as if nothing’s happened. It’s unnerving. What does he really want? We’ve had our funeral.

  Two minutes left to prepare. Decide how to look, what to feel, what to say.

  He appears three on the dot. Punctual as always. Very grave in his this-winter-we-take-Moscow coat. Strange look on his face. Out of his mind? Dead? Questions one doesn’t ask. Seems not to recognize me. The old pose. Turning himself into stone to prove I’m Medusa. Try to start up a conversation.