“But—”
“It’s your choice. You can go to City College in the fall, or you can go to high school for another year. It doesn’t make any difference to me. If you choose to go to college you will live at home, and you and Harry can take the train together into Manhattan for your classes.”
“What about Barnard? It’s in New York too. I’ll live at home and—”
“Why should I pay for you to attend a private college when City College is free?”
“They have a wonderful writing program there and Mrs. Morhardt said there are scholarships.”
Her father looked at her with absolute contempt. “Do you honestly think you’re going to be some sort of famous writer?”
Judith didn’t answer, so he continued, “Half the girls in your school will be headed to a steno pool when they graduate and the other half will be headed down the aisle. You are one of the few who will have the privilege of a college education. I hope you know how lucky you are.” He got up from the table. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, taking his coat from the peg on the wall. He opened the kitchen door and walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Judith’s mother folded the letters neatly and placed them in their respective envelopes. She passed them across the table to Judith without a single word, rose from her seat and went into her bedroom.
Judith contemplated ripping up the letters or throwing them away, but she couldn’t bring herself to destroy them. The college stationery was too elegant, the envelopes too crisp. She ran her finger over the raised crest on the Barnard letter. Had she been naive to assume she belonged there? She felt foolish now, and relieved she hadn’t told any of the girls at school her secret.
She would write to the colleges tomorrow. She would tell them how sorry she was that she could not attend, but that personal matters prevented her. That was the right thing to say, wasn’t it? But she would keep the letters. She’d put them somewhere safe, maybe in a scrapbook or a keepsake box. And one day, when she was an adult with her own house and her own family, she would take them out and pass them around, and the people who loved her would look at them and be proud.
Chapter 31
ROSE
(June 1952)
Rose didn’t understand why Judith needed to leave for the graduation ceremony so early. If it didn’t start until ten, why did Judith insist on leaving the house at nine? “The students have to get there early to line up,” she explained to Rose. “We’re not allowed to sit with our families. I’ll see you there.”
Rose sighed. There were so many things about Judith that she didn’t understand. For one thing, she couldn’t comprehend why her daughter got so upset when Mort told her she couldn’t go to Barnard. Was it really worth it to pay all that extra money just for a fancier diploma? For that matter, why did Judith have to go to college when she was still so young? What was the rush?
“I feel like I’m going round in circles in high school,” Judith told her. “I just want the next part of my life to start.” Judith probably thought her mother had no idea what she meant. But it was the first thing Judith had said in a long time that made sense to Rose. For years, she had felt like she was running around in circles too. She had spent the first part of her married life wasting energy on an impossible task. It was only now that she realized how unattainable her goal had been. Mort would never be happy. There was no test she could pass that would change him.
In the years that followed, Rose nursed her grief with a heady tonic of remorse mixed with the resentment that stemmed from the burden of Helen’s constant surveillance. There was no comfort for her in this bitter concoction, but she nearly drowned herself in it just the same.
If Judith’s new start would be going to college, Rose’s new start would come from leaving the house on Christopher Avenue. As she cleaned out the closets and got rid of her family’s worn-out belongings, she pictured an internal purging as well, of her own worst thoughts and habits. When she taped up the boxes of china and crystal her mother had given her, she was Pandora in reverse, putting away her worst anxieties and failures, withholding only hope. She understood the desire for a clean slate more than Judith would ever know.
The graduation that morning was to be held in the high school gymnasium, and there were barely enough seats for everyone in the crowd. It was warm for June, and sitting with Teddy on her lap only made Rose feel more smothered.
Finally the principal stood and tapped the microphone at the podium. When they were done hearing from him, the school district superintendent and a multitude of class officers, they still had to suffer through the presentation of student awards by Vice Principal Kaplan. There was an award for service to the school, service to the community and another for the best scholar-athlete. By then, Rose was more than ready for the ceremony to end. She groaned silently as another speaker she did not recognize stepped up to the podium. “Good morning. My name is Abigail Morhardt, and I am the college counselor for William Wheeler High School.” Her name sounds familiar, Rose thought, but she couldn’t place it.
The attractive woman in the elegant cream suit continued, “Principal Singer asked me to present the final award to the valedictorian of this year’s graduating class. For three years, I have had the pleasure of watching this young woman develop her academic talents. After reading one of her freshman essays, I knew that she was a very special student. She has managed to complete all school course requirements in only three years, and I am so pleased that she will be continuing her journey this fall at City College. Ladies and gentlemen, I am thrilled to announce the valedictorian of the class of 1952: Judith Berman. Judith, please join me at the podium to accept your award.”
Rose looked over at Mort, hoping he wouldn’t be angry that they hadn’t known about the award beforehand. Mort didn’t look upset, but his face was difficult to read. He was straining his neck, trying to get a glimpse of Judith, but the graduates were sitting in alphabetical order at the front of the gymnasium and it took Judith a few minutes to make her way out of the crowd. When Rose finally saw Judith, she was relieved. The look of shock on her daughter’s face was unmistakable. It was clear she had no idea about the award. Rose watched as Mort leaned back in his chair.
When Judith finally made it to the podium, Mrs. Morhardt shook her hand vigorously and whispered something in her ear. Judith smiled shyly and cleared her throat into the microphone. “This is a tremendous surprise and a great honor. Thank you all so much.” Principal Singer stepped forward and handed Judith a wooden plaque, which she carried with her on the way back to her seat.
Teddy was clapping vigorously for his sister, even though he had no idea why. He slid off Rose’s lap and clapped until Rose told him to shush. “I told her she should have let me do her hair this morning,” Mimi whispered under her breath. “But did she let me? No…”
Rose silenced her with a glance, and Mimi went back to her compact mirror. Dinah had woken up just as Judith was headed back to her seat and wanted to know what she had missed. “Your sister was given an award for being the valedictorian,” Rose told her.
“What does ‘valedictorian’ mean?” Dinah asked.
“It means she’s the smartest one of all of them,” Mimi said.
Mimi loved to tease, so Dinah wasn’t sure if this was true. “Is that right, Papa?” she asked Mort. “Is Judith really the smartest?”
The entire family turned to Mort for his answer. “Statistically, she has the highest grade point average,” he answered.
“What does that mean?” Dinah asked again. Mimi, sensing her father’s impatience, pulled her sister aside and whispered loudly, “It means she’s the smartest. Now stop asking questions.”
After the last diploma was handed out, the graduates and their families filtered out of their seats and reunited on the small grassy area in front of the school. Rose was happy to be outside, but the boost to her mood was overshadowed by what she saw next. Nearly all the girls were holding small bouquets given to them
after the ceremony by their families. Several were holding their bouquets in front of them like bridesmaids as they posed for photographs with friends. Rose felt guilty and then increasingly annoyed. How could she have known she was supposed to buy Judith a bouquet? Why had no one bothered to tell her?
A few moments later Mimi was waving to her cousin. “Happy graduation, Harry!” she called out. Harry, joined by the rest of his family, was walking toward them. Judith appeared at the same time, carrying her plaque, and Rose watched as Harry swooped her up in a congratulatory embrace. “Wow! You’re the valedictorian! Can you believe it? That’s fantastic!” Judith wasn’t used to so much attention—she was speechless. Abe hugged Judith next. Rose didn’t notice the small bouquet of yellow roses Helen was holding until her sister-in-law planted it firmly in her own hands. Rose turned to Helen, confused, but Helen motioned for Rose to be silent and take the bouquet. Helen wanted Rose to give it to Judith.
When Abe finally let Judith go and she saw the bouquet her mother was holding, her eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t think anyone would remember my graduation bouquet. I know it’s a silly tradition, but it’s so beautiful.” Judith kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thank you, Mother, thank you!”
Rose accepted the kiss and the embrace that accompanied it. She had never seen Judith look happier, but she wasn’t able to enjoy it. Helen had come to her rescue yet again, this time with the bouquet. No matter the occasion, Helen always seemed to be one step ahead of her. The move to their new home, Rose decided, couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 32
HELEN
They moved a few days after the graduation. Helen had been packing for weeks, and every night Abe brought home a few more boxes for her. “Perk of the job,” he’d say when he carried them through the door. The boys groaned, but Natalie laughed every time.
Helen did most of the work when the boys were at school. She would give Natalie a “job” every morning: packing up this or that, collections of spoons, books or socks—anything she could think of that wasn’t fragile enough to break. For the most part, it was just monotonous. But some tasks, like going through their photographs, were difficult for Helen. There was a framed picture of Mort and Abe with their father a few years before he passed away; a wedding photo of her own mother and father, now long gone; a photo of her and Rose from Harry’s bar mitzvah, before all the quarreling began.
Helen sat on the floor, wrapping the frames in sheets of old newspapers, wondering if she would ever be able to unpack them. Maybe it was better for the pictures to stay boxed up at the new house. They were going to have so much more space—an attic and a basement for storing things. Some of the boxes could go there. There were plenty of other family pictures she could scatter around. Why torture herself with reminders of what had already been lost? After she taped the box shut, Helen wrote, STORAGE, on it with a thick black Magic Marker she had picked up at the drugstore. She underlined the word twice.
Once the photos were packed, Helen decided to move on to something easier, something less sentimental. But even emptying the kitchen cabinets brought a lump to her throat. The cake pans reminded her of all the birthdays they had celebrated in the house. The pots made her think of all the times she had made chicken soup when someone was sick. Helen was unable to separate even the most mundane objects from her own unshakeable feelings of sadness and loss. It was only after the packing of a vegetable peeler sent her into hysterics that she decided she needed to get some fresh air.
“Natalie, honey!” Helen called out toward the living room. “Get your shoes on. We’re going for a walk.”
As soon as they entered the drugstore, Helen teared up. She knew it would be the last time she would set foot in it, so she let Natalie pick out a candy bar and decided to buy a tube of lipstick for old times’ sake. She remembered back to the day almost five years earlier when Judith helped her pick out a color before their dinner with Sol. She had been pregnant then, hoping for a girl, wondering whether she would ever be able to share a moment like that with her own daughter. And now, here she was, back in the very same spot, hoping again that the next big step in her life would turn out well. “Do you like this color?” she asked Natalie, after applying a generous coat of “Cardinal Sunset” to her lips. Natalie had already unwrapped her candy bar. She inspected her mother’s face and shook her head vigorously. “Your lips look dirty,” she told Helen. “Take it off.”
Helen picked up some candy for the boys and an extra box of Band-Aids. The owner’s wife, Mrs. Feldman, was working at the register. She was a thick, unappetizing woman, well into her sixties. “When do you leave?” Mrs. Feldman asked, dispensing with the niceties. She patted the stiff graying mound on her head and slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose to read the price on the Band-Aids.
“The day after tomorrow,” Helen answered. “Today is the last day of school for the boys and then they have to pack up their rooms.”
“Why you have to move to that fakakta island is beyond me, but you should only have health in your new home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Feldman. We’ll miss you. Won’t we, Natalie?”
Mrs. Feldman leaned over the counter to get a good look at Natalie. “So long, Mamaleh!” she shouted. Natalie dug her face into Helen’s skirt and covered her eyes. She was afraid of Mrs. Feldman. “Hmmph,” Mrs. Feldman said, miffed. “That one takes after the uncle.” For the rest of the afternoon, every time Helen was tempted to cry, she forced herself to think of the old woman’s face.
She packed for the rest of the evening and all the next day. The last night they spent in the house was endless for her, and as she lay awake, listening to the trucks and buses make their routes on Christopher Avenue, she wondered how she would ever sleep once they moved. The absence of noise was impossible to imagine, and the thought of a lifetime of silence frightened her.
When she got out of bed the next morning, her eyes were swollen and her neck was stiff. Abe was still sleeping. She dressed quickly and threw her nightgown into the last open box on the bedroom floor. She took out her curlers and threw those in as well, along with Abe’s slippers and the small clock on her nightstand. Then she walked to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
Abe came in after her a few minutes later. “Did you sleep?” he asked, even though he knew she hadn’t. She shook her head and opened the refrigerator. The only thing left inside was a glass bottle of milk on the top shelf. Helen’s refrigerator had always been full, loaded to excess with casseroles and fruit salads, butter and eggs, lunch meats and leftovers. But that morning, all that remained was the miserable bottle, half filled and alone. The sight of it was so discouraging, so contrary to Helen’s nature, that she couldn’t help but cry. Abe patted her on the back and poured some milk into her coffee.
An hour later, the movers arrived and Helen stood to the side as they carried box after box to the truck. The furniture was next—beds and chairs, sofas and tables. There was nothing for her to do but watch. She was as wooden as the furniture, stiff and dead. Would they carry her out too? But when at last the movers were done, she realized, no. She would have to walk out on her own.
Part Three
Chapter 33
NATALIE
(August 1952)
The summer they moved, Natalie and Teddy hardly saw each other. Whenever Natalie asked to play with him, her mother started to cry. Then, a few weeks before September, the phone rang after dinner. Natalie’s father answered it, and even from the other room she could tell that the person on the other end of the line was shouting. “Whaddya mean, he won’t come out?” her father asked. There was a pause and then more shouting.
“For Chrissake, why didn’t you say somethin’ at work?” It must be Uncle Mort.
Another pause. “Calm down. Of course she’s here. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up the phone. “Natalie!” Abe called. “Put your shoes on!”
On the way over to Teddy’s house, Natalie’s father told her that her cous
in hadn’t eaten for almost two days. “How come?” Natalie wanted to know.
Her father turned on his blinker to make the turn onto Teddy’s street. “He’s been sad. Moving is hard, and Teddy misses his routine. He misses seeing you every day and playing with you.”
“Me too!” Natalie blurted out.
Abe pulled into Teddy’s driveway. “I know, sweetheart. Your mother and I have talked about it.” He turned off the ignition. “Let’s see what happens with Teddy tonight and maybe we can do something about it.”
Abe started to open the car door, but Natalie stopped him. “Daddy, wait! How come we came over so late?”
Her father frowned. “Teddy locked himself in his room. He said he won’t come out until he gets to see you. They can’t get him to open the door.”
Natalie’s eyes widened. She scrambled out of the car and took her father’s hand. They walked together up the gravel pathway without saying a word. Abe reached out to ring the doorbell, but her uncle Mort was already at the door, opening it for them. Natalie thought Uncle Mort looked worried, and she felt bad for him. She knew her brothers thought he was mean, but there was something about him that she liked.
Mimi and Dinah ran to the door and started talking at the same time.
“Oh my gosh, finally!”
“He’s upstairs!”
“Come on!”
They grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her up the stairs to the hallway outside Teddy’s bedroom. Judith was sitting on the floor, trying to talk Teddy into coming out. When she saw Natalie she stood up and hugged her. “Teddy!” she said. “Natalie’s here!”
Natalie heard Teddy’s voice from the other side of the door. He sounded tired. “Nat? Are you there?”
“I’m here!” she called back. “Let me in!”
The lock clicked, the door handle turned and then Teddy’s face poked out. “Hi, Nat.”
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