Among the Living

by Jonathan Rabb

  Raymond shot a glance at Mary Royal. “Yes, suh, Mr. Jesler.”

  “Good. You can give me about five minutes.”

  Jesler didn’t need the time. He took it anyway and stood by his desk, thinking he might pour himself a glass, but why go down that road? Better to come at this clearheaded.

  Four minutes into his vigil Jesler heard the knock, then watched as Raymond stepped inside. Jesler had laid out several pieces of paper across the desk. He now moved to the window and asked Raymond to take a seat.

  “I wrote that all out last night,” Jesler said. “I’ll be taking it to my lawyer to go through this week. You should have a look.” He saw the hesitation and waited for Raymond to pick up the first sheet. “Bottom line, it’s four percent,” he said. “Four percent on everything. That seems reasonable to me and maybe, depending on how things go, we can talk about that down the line … I don’t know. But one thing I do know, you can’t go telling anyone about this, Raymond. No one. Maybe Mary Royal, Calvin — I’m not even sure on that front. Word gets out that a Negro has any kind of stake … that would just kill the business. You understand? Cohan, Hirsch … anyone wanting to buy a pair of shoes … Kill it. I’m putting that in writing. I’ve also got a paragraph that says you’ve got to go easy on the money … how you spend it, at least at the start. Put it away, save it up. No flash. I can help you with some of that, if you want … and I don’t know if it’s even legal for me to tell you how to spend your own money but we’ve got to be smart on this. I’m guessing that’s something for the lawyers to make right … I’m assuming you’ve got your own Negro lawyer to take a look at this? In any case, that’s all he’d be doing — taking a look. That’s just the way it has to be. You understand?”

  Raymond continued to stare at the page. He hadn’t read a word and now set it on the desk. He tried taking in a long breath before he said, “I ain’t never going to say this to you again, Mr. Jesler, but any chance I could trouble you for a glass a whiskey?”

  Jesler poured out two and handed the larger to Raymond. Jesler didn’t bother to take his own.

  “Thank you, suh.” Raymond took a sip.

  “I don’t want you thinking this is because of the hand,” Jesler said. “Or that fellow at the paper. I can’t have you thinking that.” He spoke plainly, not to plead but to put this behind them. “And I can’t have myself thinking it, either. I’m sorry for that but that’s not what this is about. There’s just a time to make good on things and this is that time.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “I guess what I’m saying … I’m saying I’m doing this for the man I think you are and the man I imagine I’m supposed to be. And that’s that.”

  Raymond took another sip. He set the glass on the desk. “Yes, suh. I can see that, Mr. Jesler. Miss Pearl know?”

  Pearl … Jesler hadn’t even thought about that.

  He felt a sudden rush at the prospect of what he was doing: He had written everything out so quickly last night and with such purpose. And maybe he had let the moment get the better of him, but he told himself it wasn’t just last night or this morning or even this instant now, seeing this young man gazing into a future he could hardly understand. There was nothing rash in what he was doing. It had come to him and it had made sense of so many other things, and how rare those moments are, he thought, if in fact they come at all. That he was feeling a bit of caution, well …

  “I’m still thinking on that.”

  “Yes, suh.” Raymond took a moment for himself. “Mary’ll be good on the money. She’ll be smart.”

  “I imagine she will.” Jesler saw Raymond beginning to work things through. Jesler said, “You need to know, son, the money … it doesn’t change things. Trust me on that. It makes a few things easier, but the rest …”

  A silence settled around them: It had nothing to do with the weight or the promise of the moment; it was simply that neither of them could think of anything more to say.

  Finally Raymond stood and extended his good hand.

  “I guess I should be offering you this, Mr. Jesler.”

  Jesler gazed across at the thick black fingers, the strength in them — the veins and the tendons — and he knew how they would always dwarf the meaty paleness of his own. He stepped over and took the hand.

  Weiss answered the door and Goldah thought: Of course they’d be here. It probably saved him the awkwardness of seeing Eva alone.

  “Well look who’s here — wonderful,” Weiss said. “I was hoping we might catch you if you came by. Come on in. Julian’s upstairs, ostensibly sleeping.” Weiss was smart enough to announce Goldah’s arrival from the hall: “Look who we’ve been lucky enough to have drop by.” At the archway to the living room he said, “The man of the hour. I’ve told him Julian’s upstairs.”

  Eva was sitting next to her mother. A handful of others stood or sat in perfect groupings across the chairs and settee and, save for the Weisses, Goldah didn’t recognize a soul. One woman, older than the rest, held her teacup at just above her waist.

  Without warning the room launched into a stream of introductions, followed by a chorus of deep appreciation for his bravery. But it was the woman with the teacup — still seated — who had the good sense to say they should all be getting home. Only then did she stand and slowly make her way toward Goldah, while Weiss escorted the rest down the hall.

  “Mr. Goldah,” she said with an equally unhurried if quavering warmth, “my name is Peggy De la Parra. I’m Julian’s grandmother and Charles’s mother … Eva’s mother-in-law. I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before this.”

  Goldah tried to mask his shock. He took her hand. “What a pleasure,” he said. “I’m … so sorry for your loss.”

  “Yes,” she said, the word hovering between them for a moment. “So much tragedy but so much hope — if we let ourselves see it.” She placed her other hand on his and — leaning closer in — said, “I choose to see it, Mr. Goldah. As would have my late husband and my son.” She pulled back and patted his hand. “I understand yesterday was the first time you met our little Jules. Quite an introduction.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s unbreakable, that boy, although I think this might have been his closest scrape yet. Thank goodness you’re such a fine swimmer.” She squeezed his hand and turned to Eva. “Mr. Goldah is far more handsome than in his photograph, Eva. You were quite right.” She turned again to Goldah. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but … well, there you are.” She squeezed his hand one last time and released him just as Weiss was back from the door. “Walk me to the door, Arthur. Marion, you must teach that grandson of yours not to be so reckless. And when you do I’ll convince him otherwise and then everything should work itself out just fine.”

  “Whatever you say, Peggy,” said Mrs. Weiss; Goldah had never heard her sound quite so genuine. “You get yourself home safely, dear. And happy new year.”

  Eva stepped over and embraced Mrs. De la Parra.

  “You’ll notice, Mr. Goldah,” Mrs. De la Parra said, “this is a very beautiful and fine young woman I’m hugging, and that’s all I have to say.” She let go and took Weiss’s arm. “Happy new year, all. Give that boy upstairs a kiss for me.”

  Weiss helped her down the hall, which left Goldah alone to fend for himself. He imagined there might have been a way to get to one of the chairs but, at the moment, human movement seemed beyond him. Surprisingly it was Mrs. Weiss who came to his rescue.

  “Would you care for some tea, Mr. Goldah?”

  He did, although it took him a moment to answer yes. Mrs. Weiss called for Bessie and Goldah waited for Eva to sit before he found the courage to move himself to the chair farthest from them. All three waited in this mannered silence before Bessie appeared with a glass and brought it to Goldah.

  Even in the short time he had known her, Goldah had felt a certain ease with Bessie around. She was young and very pretty, but it was her candor — perhaps even impertinence — that seemed to relax
him, relax them all. It was as if the De la Parras, so secure in their place, could allow her a greater humanity, and that had always been refreshing to him. Goldah was feeling none of that ease from her today.

  “I’ll take another, as well, Bessie,” said Weiss, back from the door and sitting next to him. “With a little extra syrup.” Bessie headed out and Weiss said, “Well, here we are. Peggy’s a treat, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Goldah said almost too eagerly. “She is.” He had nearly finished his glass.

  “First woman to drive a car in Savannah,” said Weiss. “Made quite a stir. She even tried to get her pilot’s license at one point. You remember that, Marion? Her husband, Walter, he was a funny one … He said he’d always had enough trouble keeping her feet on the ground so he put the kibosh on that one right away. I think she wore an Amelia Earhart scarf around town after that, but then Isadora Duncan died and, well, that was the end of that. A great lady and she just keeps rolling along. She’s got two older boys … where are they?”

  “Atlanta,” said Mrs. Weiss.

  “That’s right. And the girl?”

  “Helen is in California, Arthur.”

  Weiss raised his eyebrows. “Miss Helen De la Parra, artiste of the west. We’ve gotten packages with jewelry and pottery and, one time, a painting, I think. Don’t ask me what of. I believe there was a marriage in there at some point. I remember being invited to something.”

  Bessie came in with the tea.

  “Bessie,” Weiss said, taking his glass, “did Miss Helen De la Parra ever get married?”

  “Yes, suh, Mr. Weiss. She marry a Dr. Robert Epstein, a heart doctor, in Redondo Beach, California, August a 1938. You give them two silver candlesticks and two more when the first baby come.”

  “That sounds right,” said Weiss. “Bessie’s mother, Clara, has been with us since … when is it?”

  “Nineteen twenty-three, Mr. Weiss. July.”

  “My goodness. That’s a long time. Nineteen twenty-three. And Bessie’s been with Eva ever since she got married.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “I think we’d be lost without them.”

  “You’d do just fine, Mr. Weiss.”

  “Yes … This is Mr. Goldah, Bessie.”

  She said coolly, “Yes, suh, I know Mr. Goldah. For a time we was seeing quite a bit a him. Not so much no more. Isn’t that right, Mr. Goldah?”

  Goldah thought the whole room was enjoying the scrutiny. “Yes. Not for a while.”

  Bessie said, “Well, I think that’s a shame. Anything else you’ll be needing, Mr. Weiss?”

  “No,” he said. “I think we’re fine.”

  Bessie stepped out and Goldah quickly said, “The prognosis is good on Julian?”

  “Oh, the boy’s fine,” Weiss said. “Resilient at this age. Bit of a scare —”

  “Arthur,” said Mrs. Weiss, “I believe Mr. Goldah was asking Eva.”

  Whatever Goldah might have been expecting, he never imagined to find his surest ally in Mrs. Weiss.

  “Oh,” said Weiss. “Of course … Yes.”

  Eva said, “He’s doing fine. I’m not sure he knows any better.”

  “That’s good,” said Goldah.

  “It is, yes … I did thank you, didn’t I?” She seemed almost apologetic. “I’m a little foggy on yesterday.”

  Mrs. Weiss was suddenly on her feet; she set her glass on the table. “Daddy and I need to get going, dear. I’m sure you and Mr. Goldah have a good deal to talk about.”

  Weiss was mid-sip and quickly brought himself forward. He was not alone in his surprise. “Going?… Oh, that’s right … Yes. We need to be going.”

  All four were now on their feet.

  “Well,” said Weiss, leaning in for a hug from Eva. “Give him a big kiss from me when he gets up. Tell him he very nearly took ten years off Grandpa’s life.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Weiss said, “I’m sure he’ll find that very amusing, Arthur. Goodbye, sweetheart. Kisses from Granny.”

  Weiss said to Goldah, “By the way, I need to talk to you about your latest piece. A couple of big papers are interested. Might be quite an opportunity for you.”

  “Arthur,” Mrs. Weiss said with a look thirty years in the making, “we need to go.”

  Weiss said quietly, “We’ll talk about it at the office.”

  Goldah expected a curt nod from Mrs. Weiss but instead she said no less directly, “I was wrong, Mr. Goldah. I was wrong and I apologize.”

  Goldah stood, slightly stunned.

  Mrs. Weiss continued, “I believe I said you were a broken man and that was a terribly heartless thing for me to say. I was simply frightened for my daughter — more frightened than you can understand — and such things trump anyone’s feelings, no matter who they might be or what they might have gone through.”

  “Mother, I’m sure Ike —”

  “Let me finish, dear. Then you can tell me what Mr. Goldah is thinking.” She spoke again to him. “I’m not looking for your forgiveness — my husband and daughter can attest to that. And I’m not saying this because of your supreme act of courage yesterday, for which I shall be eternally grateful. I’m saying it because I now see you deserve to be with someone of equal quality. I don’t dare to imagine what you share with that young woman we witnessed on the beach yesterday but I do know that that poor creature is a shattered person —”

  “Mother, please.”

  “Eva, dear — I can’t possibly seem more ghoulish in Mr. Goldah’s eyes than I already do so, as I say, let me finish.” She turned to him. “You must think me quite an overbearing person, and I am. I don’t have the genteel graces that so many of my friends possess. I choose not to hide behind kindness and perhaps that’s a callous thing to say as well. I speak my mind because I feel a great deal. Some might say it’s quite remarkable that I’ve managed to raise such a sincere and genuinely warm young woman … and I will not have you thinking for one moment that her father had one iota of influence over that … but you must know that her capacity in that regard is due in full measure to her own quality, which I admire with more wonder than you or she will ever know. And if she feels as deeply for you as she does, then I will now add to your burden by freeing you from any concerns you might have about my reaction to what you choose to do, as principled as that choice might be. If I were my dear friend Peggy I would now take your hand and hold it with great affection, but I am not Peggy. I will simply say that whatever you think you owe to your past, whatever pity it stirs within you, cannot be more worthy than the future you would have with my daughter.” She took her purse. “I should tell you, Mr. Goldah, that later today my husband and my daughter will be yelling at me for this. Or they’ll be thanking me. Either way, it will be entirely up to you.”

  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek — an unnatural gesture to be sure but one she managed all the same.

  “That was my exit, Arthur. You need to come and take my arm so we can go.”

  “She played Ophelia in the tenth grade.”

  Eva stood with Goldah in the hall and listened as her parents’ car pulled out on the street.

  “She calls it her great triumph,” she said, “although today’s performance might deserve an honorable mention, don’t you think? My father played Laertes, which was a bit strange as they were dating at the time, but Mother says it helped her with the mad scene. I’ve never fully understood why.”

  Goldah thought: Even now she has such strength, frantic strength. But it made his own silence seem all the more frail by comparison.

  He said, “She kissed me, I think?”

  Eva managed a smile. “Yes — I think that’s what that was.”

  “May I hold you?”

  He had caught her unawares. Remarkably she kept her smile. “What would be the point?”

  He took a step toward her and she said, “You should see Julian. I think it would be good for him to get up. He needs to thank you, as well.”

  “It’s not necessary …
Yes. If you think that would be all right?”

  At the top of the landing they heard a sudden scampering of feet just the other side of one of the doors, the telltale squeal of box springs as the boy dove back into bed. Eva kept her ear pressed to the door, waiting until she thought the silence might be too much for Julian. She then slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The boy was lying on his back, his head tilted to the wall, eyes closed and his small chest breathing heavily from the exertion.

  “All right,” she said, “I know you’re awake. I never said you had to stay in bed. I want you to say hello to someone.”

  The eyes remained shut; the boy was playing his moment to the full.

  “Julesy,” said Eva, “this is Mr. Goldah. He’s the gentleman who pulled you from the water.”

  The boy instantly turned his head and opened his eyes. He stared for a few moments. “Hello,” he said.

  Goldah tilted his head so as to match the angle of the boy’s. “Hello.”

  Julian seemed puzzled though intrigued by Goldah’s strange posture, so much so that he began to move his head deeper into the pillow to see how far Goldah might go. When the boy began to enlist his shoulders in the effort, Eva said, “Come and shake Mr. Goldah’s hand, Jules.”

  The boy straightened up — as did Goldah — and slid himself down to the floor. He was in a cotton bathrobe tied neatly at the waist, which he wore over his pajamas. He inched his feet into his slippers, rubbed them briskly against the carpet, and then bounded to his mother’s side. With equal animation he extended his hand. Goldah leaned down and took it.

  Julian said, “Thank you, Mr. Goldah, for jumping in and saving me.”

  “It was my pleasure. I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “I should probably take some swimming lessons. Would you teach me?”

  “I … don’t know … maybe.”

  “Really? You think so?” The little hand released with a sudden enthusiasm. “Did you hear that, Mother? Mr. Goldah said he might teach me to swim.”

  “I thought we had Grandpa signed up for that?”