Peter and Veronica

by Marilyn Sachs

  Then he went on to congratulate both boys, and to speak of the excellence of their scholarship and of the fine families that both were lucky to have.

  And then it was over. Outside of the synagogue, Peter was passed from hand to hand, kissed, praised, pummeled. His mother said, “Oh, you were wonderful! The best! I never heard anyone in my whole life as good as you!”

  And his father shook his hand and said, “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Back at his house, there were tables set up in the living room, heavy with food. There was pickled herring, corned beef, turkey, tongue, platters of potato salad, coleslaw, pickled beets, chick-peas, pickles, and olives. There were bottles of wine, beer, soft drinks, and “schnapps” for the men. There were braided loaves of challah, honey cakes, spongecakes, apple strudel, nutcakes and Uncle Jake’s fragrant knishes. There were boxes of candies, nuts, halvah, raisins, and beautiful pyramids of fruit. There was enough, more than enough, in spite of his mother’s fears.

  Peter stood at the door greeting the guests as they came, thanking them for their good wishes and the myriad of presents that were heaped upon him. Rosalie kept carrying armloads of boxes into another room, and it seemed a miracle that so many people were able to fit into one small apartment.

  “You look like a stuffed turkey,” Bill whispered in his ear as he handed him a small, flat package.

  Roslyn shook his hand and said seriously, “I liked your speech. That was wonderful what you said. Everybody thought you were so good.”

  And Reba giggled.

  All the kids crowded around him, and his mother, her face glowing, came over and said, “Come, come, everybody! Help yourself. Peter, go take Grandma a glass of wine. Come on, everybody. Rosalie—where’s Rosalie—go get some more napkins, Rosalie.”

  Bustling, and urging everybody to eat, she moved happily all over the room. It was her day, too, and Peter felt a great easing inside of him. It was all over then, all but the pleasure. The work, the worries, the arguments—nothing remained now but the clink of glasses, the laughter, and the rejoicing.

  And where was Veronica? Although he knew his mother would never be rude to a guest in her own house, still and all it was too much to expect her to lavish any particularly warm welcome on the one person who had threatened to disrupt the whole day. He would personally guide Veronica over to the food-laden tables, heap up a plate of goodies for her, and perhaps, listen to what she had to say about his speech. She, of all people, would know that his speech was built around their friendship. She, more than anybody else, would be able to appreciate what he had said. He had written the last part of his speech with her in mind. That whole bit about “working for better understanding among all men” was directly related to all the problems he had encountered just because he had made a friend with somebody “different.” Veronica would understand what he meant. Veronica would know he was thinking of her. Veronica would be grateful.

  He brought his grandmother a glass of wine, and then his father introduced him to some of the men at the shop where he worked. Uncle Irving talked to him for a while about what had happened at his bar mitzvah in the old country. Other relatives spoke to him, and it seemed like ages had passed before he was free to look around for Veronica again.

  She was nowhere in the house. He had a dreadful vision of her waiting shyly outside and hurried into the hall and out onto the stoop.

  Some of his younger cousins had carried their plates of food outside and were sitting on the steps picnicking.

  “Hey, Peter,” his cousin, Aaron, called, “did you see what I brought you?”

  “No, not yet,” Peter said, looking up the street in dismay. She was nowhere in sight. Could she have come then, while he was busy talking, waited around for him to notice her, and left, feeling ignored and unwelcome? Oh, no! He hurried back into the apartment and bumped into Marv, who was coming through the door carrying a plate filled with food.

  “Your mother’s so nice,” Marv said happily. “She wants me to take this to my father since he couldn’t come.”

  “Say, Marv,” Peter said quickly, “did you see Veronica?”

  “No,” said Marv, moving out the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Peter hurried back into the apartment and looked carefully into all the groups and subgroups standing around. She was not there. Then where was she? Had she come and left? Had she come at all?

  Looking through the closest knot of people, he saw Bill raising a Coke to his lips and called out to him, “Bill, come here a second, will you.”

  Bill gurgled a little, but obligingly threaded his way through the crowd. “It’s a great party, Peter,” he said approvingly. “Your mother’s some cook!”

  “Thanks,” Peter said quickly. “Listen, did you see Veronica?”

  Bill stiffened. “Is she coming?”

  “Did you see her at the synagogue?” Peter asked, tensing.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Peter,” his father called, coming up to him, “come here. I want you to meet Mr. Stein. He’s the one whose boy is studying to be a rabbi. They’re both over near the window.”

  He took Peter’s arm and began pulling him through the crowd.

  “Oh, Pa,” Peter whispered, “Pa!”

  “What?”

  “Pa. She didn’t come.”

  “Who didn’t come?”

  He turned a sick, empty face up to his father, and when his father saw Peter’s face, he gripped his arm tighter and looked around for a place to go. The only empty place was the bathroom, and his father led him there, locking the door behind him.

  “What is it, Peter? What’s wrong?”

  “She didn’t come.”

  “That girl, you mean?”

  Peter nodded, and his misery was greater than anything he had felt before.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “So it was for nothing then,” his father said kindly. “My poor boy!” He put an arm on Peter’s shoulder and murmured, “Beware of your friends, not your enemies.”

  “She’s not my friend any more,” Peter said bitterly.

  His father smoothed his hair and straightened his tie. “Come now,” he said gently. “No more today. People are waiting for you. Don’t disappoint them.”

  Peter nodded, followed his father out of the room, and did what was expected of him. But it stayed, drumming in his head the rest of the day. Over and over again it said, “She didn’t come. She didn’t come. She didn’t come.”

  Chapter 12

  Peter was busy examining the Bible Aunt Sadie and Uncle Lester had given him. It was Sunday morning, and he had spent the last couple of hours poring over the presents he had received. As he had expected, there were numerous fountain pens—enough he speculated to last him through high school. And if you figured the mortality rate for fountain pens at two or three a year, that would still leave quite a margin for college and perhaps several to see him into adulthood. That old joke about the bar-mitzvah boy saying, “Today I am a fountain pen,” wasn’t such a joke after all.

  With quite a number of packages still to go, Peter had unwrapped three sweaters, nine ties, five tie clips, two bathrobes, a chemistry set, a dictionary and a number of other books dealing with assorted Jewish subjects, stationery, a handsome leather brief case, a subscription to National Geographic Magazine, an ivory colored chess set, a globe of the world, and a new stamp album from Bernard.

  The Bible, which he was admiring at the moment, -had a white leather cover into which THE BIBLE, and lower down, PETER WEDEMEYER—1941 had been tooled in gold. It was very impressive, and Peter was just beginning to think about looking inside of it when Rosalie came in from outside.

  She was carrying the Sunday paper, and stood for a moment contemplating the pool of presents Peter was submerged in.

  “Wow!” she said, “what a haul.”

  “Look at this, Rosalie,” Peter said, holding up the Bible.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Rosalie s
aid. “You’ll have to take good care of it and see that your hands are clean before you handle it.”

  “Aw, Rosalie, cut it out!” Peter said impatiently.

  “What’s that, over there?” Rosalie asked, pointing to the stamp album.

  Peter picked it up and handed it to her. He had an idea she knew who it was from. “Bernard gave it to me,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic, even though it was not exactly the one he would have chosen. “It’s a very nice one.”

  “Bernard knows what to buy,” Rosalie said approvingly, flipping through the pages.

  Peter looked up at her. Her short curls still stood out in different directions on her head, but her face looked happy.

  “He thinks a lot of you,” she said.

  “That’s nice,” Peter said politely. “He’s a pretty nice fellow himself.”

  “I’m glad you like him,” Rosalie said, looking very happy. Then she said quickly, “Oh, I was forgetting —your friend is downstairs, Peter. She was standing there in front of the house when I went down for the paper. I asked her to come up, but she said she’d wait for you to come down.”

  Veronica’s betrayal had been nagging at Peter all morning. It had woken up along with him, nudged him like a poke in the stomach all through breakfast, and it was only under the weight of all the unwrapped presents, that it had temporarily been buried. It started up again at Rosalie’s words.

  “Let her wait,” Peter said bitterly.

  “Well, I said I’d tell you,” Rosalie said vaguely, “and, Peter, you will remember to thank Bernard for the album, won’t you?”

  “No, I’ll kick him in the shins,” Peter said angrily. “You don’t have to tell me that. Don’t you think I know?”

  “O.K., O.K., cookie,” Rosalie said soothingly. She shifted the paper to her other arm, smiled at Peter, snuck a kiss in on his cheek, and walked out of the room.

  Let her wait, Peter thought, but he put down the Bible and stood up. No. He’d go down and tell her off. He’d feel a lot better once he told her off. And boy, would he tell her off!

  He hurried through the apartment, out the door, and through the vestibule. The force of his speed whipped his anger up to a fury, and when he flew through the outer door, onto the stoop, and saw Veronica standing a little distance away from the house, his face felt as if it was on fire.

  “What do you want?” he shouted.

  “Hi, Peter,” Veronica said, a weak smile on her face. She walked slowly toward him, and before he could say anything else, she held out a package. “Here, it’s for you. I’ve been waiting for you so I could give it to you.”

  He took it and held it and just looked at her, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. How big she was! He’d always known she was big, bigger than anyone else, and it had always seemed to him in the past, a fine thing being big. But she was too big, he saw that now, big and clumsy, and just look at her clothes! The buttons were off her jacket. There was a safety pin where the top button should have been, and her slip stuck out from beneath her skirt, and her socks wrinkled and flopped around her ankles. Slowly and piercingly, his eyes traveled up and down the whole messy, clumsy hulk of Veronica Ganz. No wonder the other kids didn’t bother with her. No wonder they laughed at her. Sure—they’d been laughing at him, too, and boy, he’d had it coming. His mother had been right. What could he possibly have in common with a girl like her, a girl whom nobody liked, a girl who had no friends, a girl who didn’t know what it meant to be a friend.

  “Aren’t you going to open it, Peter?” she said.

  He tore open the package, and inside lay a pair of green cuff links. Just what he needed, he thought angrily—cuff links! He didn’t have a single shirt that required cuff links. She just couldn’t do anything right.

  “They’re emerald cuff links,” Veronica said, “because your birthday’s in May, and emerald is the birthstone for May, so I thought ...”

  “Thanks,” Peter said, interrupting her, “thanks a lot.” He tossed the box on the ledge and continued glaring at her.

  “Was it ... was it nice yesterday?” Veronica asked, shifting uneasily under his stare.

  “Just great!”

  “Look, Peter,” Veronica moved a little closer to him. “I think you’re angry at me, but ...”

  “Angry!” Peter laughed. “Why should I be angry at you? I just fought with everybody in my family, and made a jerk out of myself, and made everybody miserable so that you could come to my bar mitzvah. But no—you couldn’t take the trouble to come after all I went through. But that’s O.K.,” he said quickly. “You just didn’t care, and that’s all right with me.”

  “Peter,” Veronica cried, “I didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t know,” he hissed at her, sticking his neck, snakelike, all the way out at her. “I asked you over and over again to come. I didn’t have to spell it out for you. You knew what I was up against. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

  “But I didn’t, Peter. I didn’t.” Veronica’s face was tight and unhappy. “Sure I knew your mother didn’t like me. I figured she’d just as soon I didn’t come, and I thought maybe it would be easier for you if I didn’t. Honestly, I swear to God, I didn’t know you were having all that trouble. If I had, Peter, I swear to you, Peter ...”

  “You still wouldn’t have come,” Peter shouted. “You know you wouldn’t have. Like you didn’t come to Lorraine’s party. You said you were coming, and I had a fight with Bill because of you, and Roslyn— well, never mind about that—but because of you I had a lousy time at that party, and because of you my whole bar mitzvah was ruined. I was ready to give up even having the bar mitzvah if you couldn’t come. For weeks my whole family fought and was miserable until I got them to say you could come. But that’s O.K. I learned the kind of friend you are, and now I’m finished.

  Veronica said slowly, “Peter, you’re my best friend, and I’d do anything for you ...”

  “Yeah,” he taunted, “I know, I know. If I was dead, you’d plant rosebushes, and tell everybody how smart I was, and about the white stripe I had down my back. Ha, ha,” Peter began laughing. “What a joke! Wait’ll I tell the other kids—boy, will they laugh. You’re a good friend to have if you’re going to die, but when you plan on living, you’re not worth much, Veronica Ganz.”

  Veronica’s face was white. She clenched her fists when Peter began to laugh, and he moved a little nervously away from her.

  “Don’t do that,” she cried. “Not even you, Peter. I can’t stand it. Don’t laugh at me. Don’t make fun of me.”

  “Just go away then,” Peter said, and his legs began trembling under him, not from fear, but from exhaustion. “Go away! Go away!”

  Veronica began talking very quickly. “I didn’t know. That’s true. And if you’d told me, I would have come because you wanted me to come. I don’t like parties. I don’t like to go places where there are lots of people. I feel funny and scared. That’s why I didn’t go to Lorraine’s party. I was all dressed and ready to go, and I got scared. And yesterday, I was all ready to go to your bar mitzvah, and don’t think that my mother was happy about me going either. But I was going to go, and I looked at myself in the mirror and I got scared. But I didn’t know that it would matter so much to you, and if I had, even though I was scared, I’d have come.”

  Peter’s legs buckled, and he sat down on the stoop and tried to sound unconcerned when he said, “Who cares anyway? It’s over and done with.”

  “That’s right,” Veronica said eagerly. “It is over and done with. Let’s forget about it. I’m sorry, Peter, I’m really sorry. You’re right. Let’s forget about it. Come on, get your skates. We’ll go skating. We won’t even talk about it any more.”

  “I’m busy,” Peter said, looking away.

  “Well then, Friday, O.K.?” She laughed quickly. “I’ll make sure Stanley doesn’t come.”

  “I’ll be busy Friday,” he said stubbornly.

  She stood over him, and he kept his
eyes focused on her feet. Her socks didn’t match. One had ribbing and one didn’t. He concentrated on the one that didn’t have ribbing and began thinking about it. Was it a white sock that had yellowed, or was it a yellow sock that had faded? It seemed important to come to some conclusion about it, and he kept his eyes on it until suddenly, it wasn’t there any more.

  When he stood up, she was halfway up the block, and he waited for her to turn around. But she didn’t. So after a while, he walked back through the vestibule door, and then he remembered and returned to the stoop. The box was still there, so he picked it up, hurried inside, and dropped it on his desk. But later in the day, when he was sated and nearly happy again after re-examining all his gifts, he saw it there, and opened it, and looked with disdain at the cheap, dime-store cuff links with their garish, green stones. And he took up the box, and ran into the kitchen, and threw it in the garbage can.

  Chapter 13

  It was Stanley who started him thinking about her again, and Marv who made him feel so rotten.

  All those weeks, he’d hardly given her a thought. For a week or so after the bar mitzvah, he’d still felt angry and purposely avoided her. He began walking to school with the other kids, watching her lumbering along in the distance, alone, as she deserved to be. But school had ended in June, and there had been plenty to do, what with playing ball with the other kids, swimming, reading, and working on the moat with Marv. He’d almost forgotten about her, and when he did think about her it was with irritation and relief that no longer did he have to fight off the whole world over her. She just had not been worth all that trouble. Thank goodness it was over.

  Now, in mid-August, with the summer at its peak, and with one easy day like another, with nothing that you had to do—no homework, no Hebrew School —only ices to eat, and mosquito bites to scratch, and endless, hot, languorous days to float through, he was beginning to feel just a little restless, just a little excited about the prospect of school starting up again, and a little hungry for the sound of the alarm clock in his sleepy ears. Just a little.