Gables Court

by Alan S. Kessler

  “I’d like to sit in front, if that’s OK with you,” Margaret said.

  Samuel followed her to the first row.

  The rabbi began the service. Using a prayer book, Samuel followed along in English, looked over at Margaret who read out loud in Hebrew. When she stood, he did too, the rabbi taking the Torah from the cabinet. Margaret again spoke the Hebrew prayers.

  “How do you know all that?” Samuel asked her after the service ended.

  “It’s no great mystery. I’ve studied Judaism.” She turned, smiled at the old woman sitting behind them and gently taking her hand, wished her a good Sabbath.

  “Have you ever eaten at Wolfie’s?” Margaret asked as they walked toward the car. “I’d like to go there!”

  “It’s a deli.”

  “I’m told the best around!”

  They drove back to Miami Beach, the large, pink and blue restaurant on a corner flashing Wolfie’s in red neon above the door. Filled with customers at laminate tables down an aisle wider than the one in temple, on either side of it a counter with chairs, Margaret chose a place in the middle of the crowd. Samuel sat across from her.

  “Hello,” she said to the family at the next table. “My, what a pretty little girl! How old are you dear?”

  The mother’s expression suspicious, she pulled her daughter close, then with an acid glance warned her chubby husband not to look at another woman. He kept eating his pastrami sandwich.

  “What would you like?” Samuel asked, leaning forward so Margaret could hear him.

  “Corned beef on rye and a pickle!” she answered.

  He went to the counter, ordered and returned with the food. Margaret took a big bite.

  “Really good! I see why this place is so popular. What did you get?”

  “Tuna.”

  “I’m surprised they have white bread.”

  “The guy had to look for it.”

  “Want to try mine?”

  “No thank you. I don’t really like deli food.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too salty, I guess,” Samuel unwilling to tell her that years ago Mr. Eldridge had warned him about eating like a Jew. But I am one.

  “I really enjoyed temple this morning,” Margaret said. “Praying there, in that beautiful old synagogue, made me feel connected to God through the Jewish people He chose for a special covenant. Did you feel that way too?”

  “I did,” Samuel lied. “Here’s what I don’t understand. In a contract both parties benefit. The Jews received God’s protection. What did He get?”

  “It’s not my idea, Samuel, it’s what the bible teaches. His people are to proclaim Him to all nations. Isn’t that wonderful! I think that was the point of the rabbi’s sermon today. Samson was weak. He liked lots of women, sin blinding him before the Philistines did. But when he returned to his faith God restored his strength and by destroying the temple of Dagon Samson showed the world God’s redemptive power. For all our imperfections and failings He loves us and through grace gives us the chance to again find Him. We keep the ancient covenant by spreading this good news.”

  The family got up, the wife and little girl walking ahead of the husband who stopped and lowering his voice, spoke to Samuel.

  “My wife’s meshuggah. You have a nice meidala there, Jewish and smart!” He quickly continued on to where his wife stood, arms folded and glaring at him.

  “That wasn’t kind of him,” Margaret said.

  “You heard?” Samuel said.

  “She seems nice. A good mother.”

  “He liked you.”

  “I enjoy complements, what girl doesn’t, but he should give them to his wife. Do you have plans for today? I don’t want to keep you from something important.”

  “Nothing scheduled. I’m free.”

  “We could go to the beach.”

  “Good idea.” Samuel wondered what she looked like in a bathing suit. “I’ll drop you off at the Castaways, go home and change.”

  “I think we’re OK for a walk. You won’t need that jacket. I’ll carry my shoes.”

  On their way to Miami Beach, Margaret discussed baseball and hockey, Samuel listening, trying to act interested. Then she mentioned her comic book collection.

  “You’re kidding? You read them?”

  “Sure do! I’ve been collecting since I was eight. My favorite is Green Arrow. I love the way his arrows turn into all kinds of neat stuff! I know this sounds childish. You’d probably much rather talk about books.”

  “No, I like comics too. Batman. Superman.” He didn’t mention the Romance ones.

  “The art is bright,” Margaret said, “the faces and body language overly expressive. Even though the text is minimal, in some panels nothing more than a bam or whoosh, the stories are complex and full of symbolism. I love this contrast in form.”

  “I agree,” Samuel said, not telling her what he really thought. Almost colorless, comic books had simple storylines about good versus evil.

  “Superman and Samson have a lot in common,” Margaret remarked.

  Samuel felt her looking at him.

  “Both are strong.” He immediately felt stupid for stating the obvious.

  “And their strength comes from a source beyond them,” she said. “Superman gets his by absorbing yellow radiation. Samson, a Nazirite, grew his hair long according to God’s commandment. Kryptonite poisons Superman. When Delilah cut his hair, Samson became weak. There’s another parallel to the Superman story. Are you interested?”

  “Sure am. This is really great.” Samuel tried sounding sincere.

  “Superman came to earth and uses his special powers to help the world. God sent Jesus, His only son, to live, die, and through the resurrection, save our souls.”

  “But Superman never dies,” Samuel said.

  “That’s the difference. Jesus actually lived. He was a Jew, like you. Look at that! The beach is so crowded!”

  “Yeah, let’s do something else.”

  “I like it when there’s lots of people. More to see!”

  Samuel parked near a walkway leading to the beach. Out of the car first, Margaret stretched her arms skyward and smiled.

  “Blue and sunny. Know what that makes me think about?”

  “God?” Samuel said.

  “I should get a tan!” She took her shoes off and ran.

  When Samuel joined her, he saw that Margaret had rolled her long dress up to her knees. He thought she looked sexier than the bikini wearing, glistening girls lying with their rumps pointed in the air. He breathed a little faster, jumped when she lightly touched his arm.

  “What are you thinking about?” Margaret asked.

  “That it’s a beautiful day,” he answered, turning slightly away from her.

  They walked along the beach, Samuel enjoying their separation from the other beachgoers who, in packed formations, drank beer, turned their boom boxes louder, and like hotdogs on a spit, periodically rolled over.

  His gut flopping against his speedo, a sunburned man waddled toward Samuel and Margaret.

  “Going to a funeral?” he asked.

  “Do we look sad?” Margaret answered. “We’re not! God bless you, sir!”

  Confused, the man stood there a moment before walking on.

  “That’s a side of you I haven’t seen,” Samuel said.

  “What?”

  “You made him feel like an ass.”

  “I hope not! Maybe by how we’re dressed we do look like someone died! Even if I’d wanted to say somet
hing witty, I’m not quick enough. You’re the lawyer.”

  “Court is formalized. I have time to prepare. What I do is based on research and the facts. You really wanted God to bless him?”

  “That’s what Jesus taught. It’s the most important commandment. We are to love one another.”

  “You believe that can happen?”

  “Of course!” Margaret answered. “Love is already inside you. You have the same blood as Christ! What do you know about your religion?”

  “Nothing, except that I am a Jew and the Nazis would have killed me.”

  “Six million souls.” Her voice trembled. “The Germans weren’t monsters. If only they were. They were everyman. All of us are capable of great cruelty. By recognizing our common humanity we replace hate with love. I told you I’ve studied Judaism. Why don’t we sit and talk.” She chose a sand dune facing the ocean.

  “I am a Catholic, but I also believe in the books of the Old Testament. The Torah is the first five books. Nevi’im, the book of the Prophets. Ketuvim has scrolls, poetic language, and stories, some in Aramaic. Our God, the God of Judaism and Christianity, is a loving, caring God. He created the world and, like I said at Wolfie’s, chose the Jews as His special people. The ancient Hebrews brought God, monotheism, into a polytheistic world. The central prayer of Judaism is this: Sh’ma Yisra’eil Adonai Elohinu Adonai Echad. Hear, O’Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Jesus did not replace the Law of Moses. He taught the commandment of love. Jews do not have to become Christians. At the end of days, everyone will know the truth. But those Jews called to Christ can walk in the footsteps of his disciples today. They are the Jewish followers of our Savior. I wish I were born Jewish like you. Let’s see what we can find on the beach!”

  At the waters edge, Margaret knelt in the sand.

  “Look at this!” she said excitedly.

  Samuel bent close. She splashed water in his face, got up and sprinted away. He chased her.

  They talked and played. When watching the sunset, Samuel almost reached for her hand.

  “It’s cold,” Margaret said.

  He walked her back to the Castaways.

  “I’ve decided to stay a little longer,” Margaret told him. “Will you call me tomorrow?”

  “As soon as I get up,” Samuel answered.

  I’ll leave work early and take her to Goofy Golf.

  She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, softly, and unlike Kate, as if she cared.

  The world virginal, Samuel felt Gables Court young! Happier than he had been in a long time, he drove home with the windows down and the radio blasting.

  Late at night the phone rang.

  6

  “Hello, boychick,” Mr. Smith said. “I have some bad news. You’re father had a heart attack. They took him to the hospital, but it was too late. I’m sorry.”

  Samuel stood silently in the dark living room.

  “There’s a ticket for you at the Eastern counter. A driver will pick you up in the morning. I told him to be there at 7. When you get to Boston, I’ll have another car waiting. Remember your father. He was a great man. See you tomorrow.”

  Samuel sat in the emptiness. What had his father looked like? Graying hair, deep black eyes, a stern face he’d seen change, become expressive and friendly when affability served a purpose. But no matter how friendly he appeared, behind any temporary light in his eyes they remained unemotional and cold, calculating self-interest at the center of their blackness. When young, Samuel saw this. Only in the last few years did he admit to himself that his father did more than loan people money.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Samuel watched shadows move across the room. That had been his father, the man who floated in and out of his son’s life.

  He‘d speak to me through his friends then disappear. Why did I think he lived in a world of colors?

  The boys threw rocks at me and he paid their dad a visit.

  Because of him I didn’t die in Vietnam like Gary. Admission to law school, my first job— father made me a lawyer and now I represent Haitians the Tonton Macoute murder.

  I am weak.

  He was a superhero…

  But I didn’t love him.

  Margaret had spoken about Superman and Jesus. They helped people. His father killed them. Samuel saw his father sealed inside a plain pine casket.

  His black eyes are shut. I don’t feel anything.

  Samuel turned on the light. The shadows vanished.

  He called Margaret.

  A man in a dark suit opened the gate, nodded at Samuel sitting in the back seat of the limousine. Standing at attention with rakes and hoes, the gardeners took their hats off as the car slowly rolled past.

  His face now more liver spots than tanned skin, Mr. Smith met Samuel on the front steps of the massive, Tudor style home.

  “This all you brought?” His suit rumpled, but black, the old man took Samuel’s small travel bag.

  “I should get back. There are two important cases I’m working on. But if mother needs me to stay longer, I will.”

  “Shiva is seven days. You sit, eat, and talk about nothing. Know what your father would say? It’s all bullshit. When you’re dead, you’re dead. Your mother has a headache. She’s in bed, resting. Let’s go inside. Mr. Stavros wants to see you.”

  Smith handed Samuel’s bag to a maid. Dressed in a white uniform, the black woman left as another maid, Asian, also in white, walked past carrying china plates. Samuel thought about Minnie. After she retired their conversations had always been short, Minnie needing to take her preteen granddaughter shopping, to the movies, or someplace else, all departures urgent. He stopped calling.

  Samuel had never been inside his father’s office. As soon as he entered, the door closed.

  In this dimly lit room, its artificial, half-timbered beams neither solid nor weight bearing, men with features appearing smashed by a mallet stood dark and silent, their thuggish faces making their ill-fitting black suits look like cheap costumes. At the office’s center, Stavros stood out golden and casual: gold polo shirt, gold the alternating threads in his dark green, seersucker suit; lustrous yellow, tasseled, Stacy Adams shoes. And, of course, his gold-headed walking stick.

  “So nice to see you again, Samuel,” he said, his wavy hair whiter than Samuel remembered, his mustache still walrus size. “It’s unfortunate your father’s passing is the reason. We all feel the loss. He was a good friend. Why don’t we sit and talk.”

  Immediately, Mr. Smith placed a folding chair behind Samuel. Back straight, tense, Samuel sat facing Stavros who had lowered his large bulk into a leather armchair.

  “I should have told you this before, called or sent a note, but I often forget how important the little courtesies are in life,” Stavros smiled slightly. “I am very proud of you. So was your father. Without the family’s help you built a nice practice. Those black people—They don’t pay, do they?”

  “The work is pro bono,” Samuel answered.

  “Actually, the Latin is pro bono publico. Sounds better than working for free. Let me get right to the point. Sullivan refers you immigration cases and they are lucrative. Nice of him, good for you. He is a habitual gambler who instead of borrowing from us sells drugs. It’s a profitable business. We want a piece. Find out his suppliers. Get a list of his customers. I think most of them are in your building.”

  “Remember what happened with Mr. Baxter?” Samuel said. “I’m not a very good spy.”

  “I know. But you were young. Now you’re older and smarter. No one can replace your father. Because of him, we prospered. He protected you. Now there is new leadership. It
is in your interest to help us reach an understanding with Mr. Sullivan. Like I said, we don’t want it all. He’ll still have a taste, keep all his law clients and refer some to you. Everyone wins. The family loves you, Samuel, but you must love it back.” He pushed his heavy body up from the chair. “You probably want to rest a little after your flight. The funeral is at 2.”

  Mr. Smith escorted Samuel out.

  In the bedroom wing of the second floor, Samuel heard his mother snoring as he walked past her door. Standing outside his old room he saw the neatly made bed and empty walls.

  It’s as if I never lived here.

  Samuel entered into shadows. A trespasser in time, he placed himself lightly on the bed, wanted to hide for one last time under his Superman blanket and read comics using his Batman flashlight.

  Minnie will sneak upstairs with a plate of cookies.

  Samuel closed his eyes…slept without moving the covers.

  Rainy and cold, the umbrellas, clothes, and sky, black. His father had never been typical but his funeral looked to Samuel like a movie set. The grieving widow. The gathering of family and mourners near the spokesperson for God. Thunder, wet ground, water splashing with rhythmic, heart sounding beats onto the casket of a dead man.

  Samuel tripped and almost fell into the grave. Mr. Smith caught him.

  After reading from scripture, the Rabbi offered platitudes about the life of a good man. Samuel tried listening but the words became pinpricks of sound lost inside the wind whispering to comfort the dead who, lying below gray, rain streaked tombstones, had never colored the world by splashing it with blood.

  That night he walked over to his mother sitting shiva in the Great Hall of her home.

  “Thank you for coming, Samuel. It’s so sad.” She extended her black gloved hand. When kissing it, he looked through her veil into clear eyes hooded by her cosmetician’s expertly applied eye shadow. The chemical smell of her newly bleached and styled bright yellow hair made his eyes water.

  “Don’t cry,” she said to him. “Your father is in a better place.” She asked the young, handsome man sitting attentively at her side to bring her a martini.