Come Pour the Wine

by Cynthia Freeman

  “How are you, Jay?”

  Jason didn’t answer, only continued to look at his father’s face. His hair was streaked with gray.

  “I know you’re still angry at me, Jay, but couldn’t we at least talk?”

  “We’ve nothing to say to each other.”

  “I think we do. In spite of what you think about me, Jay, I’m still your father, and I love you.”

  “Really? Well, you have a strange way of showing it … really weird.”

  “Can we sit down and talk, please?”

  Jason shrugged. “Did your shrink tell you it would be good for you to have a heart-to-heart with your son?”

  Bill winced. “Let’s sit down.”

  They sat on the first wooden bleacher, Jason remaining stiff and silent.

  “Jay, I know you can’t understand or forgive my leaving your mother but—”

  “No, I can’t, can you?”

  “Not altogether … no. But I’d like you to understand there are some people who should never get married.” That wasn’t what Bill had wanted to say, at least not in those words, but Jay was making it damned hard for him.

  Jason rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. “Then why did you marry mom?”

  “I’m going to be honest with you, Jay … I didn’t want to.”

  “But you did! … Why?”

  “Because I loved her.”

  “You loved her! I don’t get any of this … I really don’t. It’s a little too complicated for me. The point is, you did marry her. How come?”

  “The problem was I fell in love with her. At first I fought against it, but then I realized that the only way I could … well, have her was to marry her.”

  “You should have fought a little harder. It would have been better if you hadn’t gotten married. You’ve hurt her, hurt her badly, and I’ll never forgive you for that. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. And I’ll tell you something else, since we’re being so man-to-man honest. I thought you were the greatest person a guy could ever have for a father, but you sure turned out to be a dud …”

  And so saying, the deep hurt buried in him now welled up and he found himself crying.

  Bill held him close.

  “Why couldn’t you have loved us, dad … why?” He put his arms around his father’s shoulders.

  “Because I’m a pretty weak and selfish man who was never able to find himself … Jay, I don’t deserve your love. I’m sorry I hurt your mother, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Jason wiped away the tears. “Then why don’t you try and make it up to her by coming home?

  The only way to answer that was with the truth, painful as it was. “Because it wouldn’t work … Let me try to tell you why. You see, things don’t just happen today or yesterday. It happens very early on. I’m not blaming my parents anymore for what I am. They did the best they could. There comes a time when you have to stop putting on blame, come to terms with the good and the bad in yourself and try either to change or learn to live with the things you don’t like in your character. The problem is that I never did that. Without going into all the heavy psychological reasons, the result was that I felt trapped, even in a good marriage. I didn’t know who the hell I was, and I was afraid I’d never be free enough to find out.”

  “Are you happy now, living alone?”

  “I don’t know, Jay. Maybe I could be if I didn’t feel so much guilt. If we could be friends—no, more than that, father and son—maybe then I’d have an easier time finding myself. I want you to forgive me, but more than that, to love me. I miss you, Nicole and your mother. It’s asking too much for your mother even to like me, but you’re my son. I want to do things with you … have you come and visit. I’ve been very damn lonely without you, Jay—”

  “What about other women, dad?”

  He looked closely at his son. “Occasionally, Jay, that’s all. But it doesn’t mean anything. I’m an adult male and so are you. Men need women from time to time. That’s the nature of the beast.”

  Jason sat looking out to the empty ball field. He had tried hard as he could to hate his father. But now, as they sat together, he could only remember the good things, the things he’d shared with his father … Little League ballgames … the time they’d gone down the rapids. His father hadn’t left his mother, not really … He wouldn’t have been able to stay married to anyone. Was his father to be blamed for the things in his past that had loused him up? Jason didn’t honestly know the answer, but there was one thing he no longer questioned. He knew his father was a weak man, he loved him. And weak as he said he was, it still, Jason sensed, took a lot of strength to do what he had done today. Jason had rejected him, and if his father hadn’t cared he wouldn’t be trying to make it up now.

  “What do you say, Jay?”

  “We’ll give it a try, dad.”

  Bill held the boy tightly around the shoulders. “Come on, Jay, I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thanks, dad, but I’ve got my motorcycle.”

  “Okay. How about this weekend?”

  “I’ll call and let you know.”

  Driving back to his apartment, Bill felt more lonely than ever. He couldn’t live with them and he couldn’t seem to live without them. If only he could break through that iron wall that separated him from the people he loved most.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  NOVEMBER WAS WITH THEM once again. Janet knew she couldn’t go to Kansas for Thanksgiving and face the defeat of her divorce. Not this year. So she called her mother and asked that they come to New York.

  Martha tried talking Janet into coming home. “Darling, you have nothing to be ashamed of. A divorce isn’t quite the scandal it once was and no one is going to make you feel uncomfortable—”

  “I know, mother, but the memories of … past holidays are something I don’t think I could handle. It’s still too raw. Please, mother, spend the holiday here with me. The Weisses will be here too.”

  “All right, Janet. I know how difficult this is for you. Of course we’ll come.”

  “And you’ll bring Effie?”

  “Of course, darling.”

  She tried to appear gay and carefree. Drinking a little too much helped her carry out the deception, but she couldn’t deceive herself …

  She and Bill had wound up their lives the way they had started so long ago. Jay told her Bill was spending the holiday with Aunt Harriet and the family. Did he remember that first year, she wondered, when he’d gone to his mother’s and she back to Kansas? How she’d cried during that long trip. But it was nothing to what she’d gone through since he’d walked out. God, every time she thought she’d put her anger and depression in the past, they crept up on her again. After the cruise, after that talk about Nicole and Mark, after he’d asked for the furniture of his bachelor days, and now again with the holiday season. It was like being on a seesaw in perpetual motion.

  And then he made matters worse by calling. She was in the kitchen, getting more stuffing and gravy for her guests when the phone rang.

  “Hi … it’s me … how are you, Janet?” How was she? Dead, just not buried. “I’m fine Bill, and you?”

  I merely hate myself, that’s how I am. “I wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Thank you. And I wish the same for you and your family.”

  “I’ll tell them … May I speak to the children?”

  “Of course. It was nice of you to have called. Hold on and I’ll get them.”

  Thanksgiving was only a dress rehearsal. Christmas was the finale. The curtain had come down. Janet was devastated as she looked at her tall Christmas tree, all white lights and silver tinsel. She remembered Maine and how it looked that first winter. The fireglow, and she and Bill making love in front of the open hearth. Pictures faded, but memories became sharper.

  She heard the phone ringing. Her heart beat a little too rapidly … she knew it was Bill. It was difficult but… “Hello?”

  “Merry Christmas, Jan
et,” Allan said. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.” About almost nothing else, he added to himself.

  Taking a deep breath … “Thank you, Allan … and merry Christmas to you.”

  “I suspect it’s not all that merry for you, Janet, but remember, you made it this far. Take the voice of experience, if you’ll forgive it … next year will be a lot easier, and the next …”

  A long silence.

  “Janet? Are you still there?”

  “I think so. Tell me, Allan, does it ever stop hurting?”

  “Yes. The first holidays are the toughest, but nothing lasts forever and this, I promise you, won’t either.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Please try, and don’t forget we have a date the first Saturday in January.”

  “I won’t… You’ve helped so much, Allan. It’s a lovely gift.”

  New Year’s Eve she sat by the fire, trying to warm herself.

  Jason had gone to a party. She’d turned down Kit’s invitation. She thought back now to what Allan had said … it will get better … Well, she had a long way to go. The questioning never seemed to stop … why hadn’t she moved to New York when Bill had asked her? … because the children came first … but you’re not exactly blameless, Janet … everyone feels Bill was the villain and you the victim … not exactly, by half … if I’d loved him enough I would have given up this house … that’s all it is now … not a home … just wood and stone … it has a roof, but no foundation …

  Her parents. Kansas was what she needed at this moment. So it wasn’t all over, neat and clean, no doubts, no regrets, no guilts. God, what a presumption to think otherwise. You can’t just hang up new curtains and shut away the past. It has to be acknowledged before it can be buried, and a new life really begun …

  New Year’s Day Nicole and Mark came by to drive her to Kit’s. No party, just family.

  After dinner they sat in the spacious living room.

  Nicole clapped her hands. “I want everyone’s attention. You’re all invited to a … wedding. Mark and I are the stars and we’ve decided on Temple Emanu-El, same as you, Aunt Kit and Uncle Nat. And … I’m converting to Judaism.”

  Looking at her child, a kind of chill came over Janet … Nicole was the fifth generation to come from the genes of Yankel … a Jewess born to perpetuate the faith Janet had, in a sense, been deprived of … a heritage she herself had longed to embrace since she’d been awakened to it. And in spite of herself the thought came … If Bill had been a Jew, would their lives, their marriage, have turned out differently? … Janet, Janet, you’re so confused. Allan still was very important … What was it he’d said? “I would never have left Joyce …” His former wife had finally called him a despicable Jew, or some such, and yet even now he didn’t really hate her. Was there a difference in Jewish men, husbands … ? Dear God, why was she asking such stupid questions? People were people. Jews were people. Jews got divorced. She cut off her thoughts and walked, unnoticed, from the room….

  Amidst tears, cheers, hugging, toasting, Janet had to be alone to try to put her thoughts together. Right now she very much felt the need of Allan’s warmth, of his wisdom …

  Nicole’s future mother-in-law was saying, “You’re not going to call me Aunt Kit anymore, I hope?”

  “Yes, I am. I always have and that’s something very special to me. In fact, if you can stand it, you’re about my favorite person in the whole world. Well, at least the part of it I’ve seen. The only reason I’m marrying Mark is so I can get into the family legally. But you can be my mother-in-love, okay … ? We’re going to be married this summer.”

  Kit blinked back the tears. Tough Kit wasn’t so tough … This was the little girl she’d once diapered. She and Nat had better start counting their blessings. With a daughter-in-law like Nicole, it might take a lifetime.

  Nicole suddenly realized her mother was the only one who hadn’t congratulated her. In all the excitement she just had not noticed Janet’s absence until this moment. She looked around the room, suddenly realizing that her happy announcement might well have been bittersweet for her mother, reminding her of her own marriage—and how it had turned to ashes.

  Nicole hurried up the winding stairs to the Weisses’ second-floor sitting room. When she entered she found Janet in a wing chair, staring out of the window. She went to her mother, knelt beside her.

  For a moment, neither spoke, then Janet quietly said, “I’m sorry, honey,” and both understood what she meant, though Janet quickly added, “I mean that I didn’t congratulate you and Mark. Strange … I just felt I had to be alone, so many things …”

  “I understand, mother … I really do.”

  “Thank you, darling.” And then almost abruptly, “Your father left me with a great deal, you know. I mean that. I have you and Jay. I don’t want you to think that your marriage is in any way an unhappy reminder for me. I couldn’t be more pleased, and proud. What affected me, though, was when you announced you were becoming a Jew. When you and Jay were children and I told you about your great-grandfather and your Jewish heritage, you were the one who asked the most questions, seemed to reach out to know more. Just before you came in I was thinking about the last time I saw Fayge Kowalski, the day she fastened the Star of David around my neck and said, ‘Remember your zayde and remember to tell the story to your children.’ I kept my promise, Nicole, but I didn’t quite realize the effect Yankel Stevensky and Fayge Kowalski would have on our lives …”

  Janet got up and crossed the room to the sofa, where their coats had been piled. From inside the zippered pocket of her purse she drew out a small, felt envelope containing the gold star Fayge had given her. “I pretended for a little while you were my child, Janetel …” Fayge now lay side by side with her Mendele and the rest of Fayge’s family was also gone. When Janet and her father had arranged for two bronze memorials, one in a Wichita temple for Yankel Stevensky and one in Miami for Fayge, they’d never dreamed that this part of their heritage would be perpetuated in their family.

  “I’ve never been without this since the day Fayge gave it to me, but I have the feeling that it was really meant for you. Here, darling, let me put it on you the way Fayge once did for me. Wear it with pride, and with the love with which it was given to me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  NICOLE SAT IN HER small apartment trying to study, then finally gave up. When she had spoken to her father on New Year’s Day she’d been reluctant to tell him she was getting married. How would her mother feel, seeing him escort her to the altar? Nicole felt pulled apart by her love for her father, no matter what he’d done, and for her mother too …

  Her parents would finally be divorced in March … Wow, what a birthday present that was going to be. She could cut her birthday cake reading their bill of divorcement … Would her parents even be talking to each other in June? Maybe she and Mark should just get married with no frills, go to Reno … No, damn it, she wanted a real wedding, even if marriage had become all but obsolete among her peers. Nicole couldn’t share the philosophy of her friends. She knew why she wanted to be married, and felt good about it. The commitment between Mark and herself was so strong they wanted to announce it … before God and the world. To her and Mark marriage signified being honestly willing to pledge one’s life to another.

  She quickly phoned her mother at the shop and arranged to meet her for lunch….

  Two hours later Nicole and her mother were finishing their meal, and Nicole still hadn’t been able to talk about what was bothering her. She sat there, stirring her coffee.

  “You seem to have the world on your mind, Nicole.”

  “Well, something, anyway … Mom, I haven’t told dad about our getting married yet—”

  “Why?” Janet said, trying to keep her voice even.

  “Because I—”

  “You think it’s going to be awkward?”

  “Something like that … yes.”

  “Nicole, our p
roblems must not become yours … we created them, they must not be part of your life. I’m just grateful that you’re not afraid or bitter about marriage. I think it’s a tribute to both you and Mark.”

  “And to you, mom,” and dad too, she thought. After all, they had been in love, there had been all the good times together …

  Janet smiled. “Thank you for that, honey … well, there’s no need to delay telling your father …”

  “Thank you, mother … I just needed to know how you felt—”

  “I feel it’s only right that your father should give you away.” She fought to keep the irony out of her voice, to push aside the thought that in a way Bill had given his daughter away a long time ago …

  “Mom,” Nicole was saying, “I do love dad, but sometimes … well, sometimes I don’t terribly much like him.”

  “I know, honey … it’s not always easy to accept people as they are …”

  “Have you been able to do that?”

  “I won’t lie to you, darling. Of course it still hurts, but not the same way. I ran the gamut of all the emotions most divorced women do. But now what I feel for your father is … well, I guess in a way it’s a sense of pity … and that’s not so bad—”

  “Not love?”

  “Maybe it’s part of loving someone, but everything is different now.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever love anyone that way again?”

  “No … I wouldn’t want to.”

  “What about getting married again?”

  “I don’t think so, honey.”

  “Then you are bitter?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What about Allan Blum?”

  “… What about him?”

  “Could you … well, care for him?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact … very much. Allan’s a wonderful man, and a very good friend, but I’m never going to marry again—”

  “I’d like to see you happy, mom.”

  “I’ll settle for what I believe is known as a little inner peace. I made a lot of mistakes in my marriage, Nicole …”