by Joani Ascher
****
After several months of mourning Z.Z., Jane had decided that life had to go on, and she resumed the practice of Sunday dinners. Mrs. McGill pitched in, filling in for Olivia, who had progressed from morning sickness to all-day sickness. She was unable to keep most food down and was painfully pale and thin, even thinner by far than Jane. With the likelihood of her becoming sick on the street, she was unwilling to set foot outside.
In the evenings, when Martin came home grumbling about his stupid boss, he paid little attention to Olivia’s discomfort. He and Jane barely spoke, and the tension in the apartment was too high to bear. Jane had thought about moving out, living in a boarding house if she could not find an apartment, since they were still scarce, but Olivia would not hear of it. “I would be lost without you,” she said. “It’s lonely enough when you’re at work.”
Jane had switched to working days after Z.Z.’s death. She took on more and more responsibility, and Mr. Dobbin’s business expanded further. She found herself intentionally working late, though, to avoid the scene at home, yet felt guilty leaving her sister alone with that man.
Martin increasingly acted as if Jane were an outsider. Even though the lease on the apartment was in her name, he pretended he was the king of the manor. He paid none of the expenses, did none of the work, even as far as taking out the garbage, but he lorded his presence over the sisters like an emperor.
Mrs. McGill had come in one day, a month after Z.Z. passed away, fully determined to clear things out. She took all of his clothes and bundled them up for charity, pulled his cot into the hall for one of the male neighbors to bring to storage, and returned the books on Z.Z.’s chair to the shelf near the sofa. “We will not forget him,” she promised. “But we must go on.”
Yet when she set the Sunday dinner table one day, Jane caught Mrs. McGill looking over at that chair. The older woman had been quite affected by Jane’s son’s death, but she had the uncanny knack of remembering sweet little things about him that helped both Jane and Olivia.
Today she said, “Remember when he mimicked Mr. Dobbin? I thought I was going to burst, laughing so hard.”
Jane smiled. It had been so much fun, and Mr. Dobbin had enjoyed it thoroughly. But when Z.Z. mimicked Martin, he had picked up Z.Z. and spanked his bottom before Jane or Olivia could stop him. While it was true Z.Z.’s impersonation of Martin was unflattering, it had been accurate. Another pang of grief caused Jane to freeze momentarily, trying to catch her breath.
Pushing the sad memories out of her mind, Jane brought the roast beef to the table and announced that dinner was ready. She took a serving for Olivia, and brought it into her bedroom. Mr. Dobbin and Mrs. McGill sent their love along with it. Martin just plowed into his food.
****
Throughout the summer, Olivia and Jane made little sweaters and blankets for the baby and gathered necessities, including purchasing a new crib. Martin had refused to let his child sleep in Z.Z.’s crib, or use any of the things Z.Z. had used. Jane, who had stored it all after Z.Z. grew out of it, had finally allowed Mrs. McGill to give everything away.
Both Mr. Dobbin and Mrs. McGill acted like expectant grandparents. At the weekly dinners, Anne’s new husband, Schuyler, spent time with Olivia, who could barely stand, talking about their common interest in art. Sometimes it seemed to Jane he was trying to keep her busy while the others, who could move around a lot more comfortably, did all the work. Olivia’s own husband never even bothered to see if she needed a glass of water on those hot summer days.
At the last Sunday dinner in August, Martin spoke to Schuyler, who was a partner in a real estate development company. “I’m trying to put together a partnership,” he said, moving closer to the man. “We’ll get some venture capital and draft a debenture.”
Jane knew why Martin always hovered around Schuyler. The man was very wealthy, but he was down to earth, avoiding the country club life in favor of charitable ventures. Martin had, on several occasions, made big claims to him, as well as appeals, to help him realize his fantastic dreams.
Schuyler was polite about it. “What kind of product will you be selling?”
“Oh, it isn’t a product. My money man will discount the capitalization and we’ll be making millions. Are you in?”
Jane wondered how Schuyler kept a straight face. It was so obvious Martin had no idea what he was talking about.
“Who are your partners?” Schuyler asked.
“The cream of Wall Street,” said Martin. “Although I couldn’t get in to speak to Prescott Weaver, our Janie’s old flame. Maybe he knows I married Olivia and is holding it against me. Yeah, that’s probably it. Otherwise why wouldn’t he see me?” He stared at Jane. “It’s all your fault. Yours and your idiot spawn.”
Jane did not respond. She picked up her plate and brought it to the kitchen. Olivia rose with difficulty and followed her in.
“I’m so sorry, Jane. I never would have told him if I’d thought he would bring it up.”
“He didn’t just bring it up, he threw it in my face. Why did you tell him?”
“I didn’t think it was right not to answer his questions.”
“Did you tell him about Lloyd, too?”
Olivia’s brown eyes turned to the floor. “I didn’t tell him his name.”
“Thank goodness. Please don’t ever tell him anything personal about me again. He’s your husband, so he can know your secrets. But not mine.”
“Jane, please.” Olivia put her hand on Jane’s arm to stop her from leaving the kitchen. When Jane turned, she could see tears in her sister’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“You should get off your feet,” Jane said, softening her voice as she let the anger go. “I’m not angry with you, just Martin. He knew that would hurt me, and he didn’t care.”
They went back into the dining room. Martin was still talking. “You wouldn’t recognize my financier’s name,” he said, “but he’s got the Midas touch. And his partners are all top-notch men.”
“I’ll look into it,” said Schuyler. “Show me the papers.”
“Hey, Dobbin,” Martin said, turning on the older man, “maybe if Jane loosens some of your company’s purse strings, you would like to get in on this deal.”
Mr. Dobbin put down his coffee cup. “No, thank you.”
Martin tossed his head. “Your loss. But Sky, here, and I are gonna be in like Flynn. I’ll have everything I’ve always wanted and get Olivia and my new baby boy out of this dump. Any day now,” he gloated, “he’ll be born, and I’ll have a son to carry on my name.” He turned back to Schuyler. “Too bad you didn’t have one.”
Jane had to avert her eyes from Anne’s shocked face. Schuyler put his arm protectively around her shoulders.
“You guys are too sensitive,” Martin said, disgusted. He got up and went to the door. “I gotta get some air.”
****
On September 2, 1948, as the first dried leaves skittered up the alleyways and the country basked in the glow of an anticipated landslide for presidential candidate Governor Dewey, Olivia went into labor. No one knew where Martin was, even though it was past dinnertime.
Jane had no time to worry about his whereabouts. She called for a cab and bundled Olivia into it. The taxi driver laughed when he saw Olivia. “You must be the tenth one this week,” he said. “I sure hope they make enough diapers.”
When they turned the corner, Olivia was having another contraction, but she managed to cry out, “There he is.” Jane just had time to see Martin staggering out of a bar. She hoped he was headed home and would get her note directing him to the hospital.
She was sitting in the smoky waiting room with Mr. Dobbin when Martin staggered in. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, pointing his finger at the older man. “She’s my wife.”
Mr. Dobbin smiled. “And like a daughter to me. I’m waiting to hear she is well.”
“She had better not give birth to a monster like her sister did,” said Martin. “Or she
won’t be.” He turned to look defiantly at Jane. “Thank God that bastard won’t be around to teach my son how to be a moron.”
“Please, Jane,” whispered Mr. Dobbin. “My arthritis.” She realized she was squeezing his poor hand and withdrew her own.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“There is no need to explain, dear. I understand. Once again, you have my sympathy. How you can put up with that lout is beyond me.”
Jane wiped her eyes. “For Olivia.”
Martin sat across the room from them, away from everyone else. All around, men sat nervously awaiting their children’s births, talking with their own family members and each other. One by one, nurses came in to reassure them that their wives were all right, and tell them their sons or daughters had entered the world. Back slaps and congratulations rang out, everyone smiled, cigars were lit, and those still waiting turned their attentions back to the door.
Martin just sat there in a drunken stupor, pretending to read a copy of Life magazine.
Hours later, Dr. Mann came to tell them about Olivia. Jane jumped to her feet. “How is she?”
“It was a long, difficult labor. Where is Martin?”
Jane pointed to the corner of the room. Martin seemed not to have noticed his wife’s doctor standing there. Mr. Dobbin went over to the young father and touched him on the shoulder.
“What do you want?” said Martin. But his gaze followed Mr. Dobbin’s and came around to the doctor. “Oh, Doctor? How’s my son?”
Dr. Mann smiled. “Your child is a girl, healthy and beautiful.”
“And my sister?” asked Jane.
“It was difficult. She needs to rest. Only her husband should see her. The rest of you can wait until tomorrow.”
Jane turned to Martin and saw him heading for the door. “Give Olivia my love,” she said.
Martin turned and glared at her. “Give it to her yourself. I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going? Don’t you want to see Olivia and the baby?”
“Why would I?” He pushed open the door, leaving it swinging behind him.
“I think it would be all right if you go see her,” the doctor told Jane.
“Whatever will I say about Martin?”
“Tell her he went to buy cigars.”
****
Martin did not visit Olivia during the nearly two weeks she spent in the hospital. He would have had to go to Cuba to buy those cigars, Jane thought, in order to explain being gone so long. But Olivia did not seem to mind. She was calmer and smiled readily, especially when Ellen was brought to her side. The little girl was beautiful, with perfectly formed eyes, fingers and toes, and hair as dark as her mother’s.
“I’m sorry you had to give away Z.Z.’s crib,” said Olivia. “Ellen would have loved it.”
“Mrs. McGill’s niece is using it,” Jane said. “And you said you loved the new set I bought for Ellen.”
“Oh, I do. But Martin should have bought it. She’s his daughter.”
“Well, he would have liked to, I know. He’s just short on cash right now.” Jane could not believe she was defending that poor excuse of a man, but she felt she had to, for Olivia’s sake.
“He’s been working so hard, so he can take a little time off when you get home,” Jane said, hoping he would at least show up. She had not laid eyes on him since the birth, although she had heard him in his room, late at night, and found used towels on the floor of the bathroom. She’d also seen Martin’s dirty dishes left on the table, and noticed that most of the food she bought was disappearing.
Since Olivia was coming home tomorrow, Jane planned to get up early, clean the bedroom she and Martin shared, and air it out. Not only was the man not interested in his wife or daughter, he was a pig.
****
“Come see your new home, Ellen,” said Mrs. McGill, as she opened the door. She stood aside and let Olivia, holding the baby, and Jane, holding the suitcase, step inside.
Jane knew what Olivia saw. It was a huge bouquet of late summer flowers, welcoming Olivia and her baby home, with a card signed by Martin.
“Ooh, how sweet,” said Olivia. She looked around, as if expecting to see her husband. Jane had given her another excuse for why he was not there when she was released from the hospital. She couldn’t bear for Olivia’s happiness to be spoiled by the truth about the poor excuse for a man that was her husband. “Where are you, Martin?” she called out.
“With any luck, Topeka,” Mrs. McGill whispered.
He was not in Topeka, as it turned out. Just before dinner time, Martin strolled into the apartment as he always had, and sat down in his favorite chair, the wing-backed chair that had belonged to Olivia and Jane’s father, looking around expectantly for his dinner. He seemed surprised when Olivia came out of the bedroom.
“You’re home,” he said, rising. He didn’t even bother to apologize for not visiting her in the hospital.
Olivia smiled. “Come see Ellen. She’s so beautiful.” She took him by the hand and led him into their bedroom. After a few minutes, Jane heard him cooing at the baby.
She realized she had been holding her breath when it rushed out of her in relief. Maybe it would work out after all.
When Martin called his mother to tell her she had a grandchild, Jane knew they had turned a corner. Now her sister could be happy.
Chapter Eighteen
Ellen became the center of the household overnight. Auntie Jane doted on her, Olivia beamed, and Martin cut short or skipped his trips to the bar almost every night. He bragged to the neighbors several times about his daughter but always told them he would have a son the next time. Jane hoped he would never say that around Ellen once she was old enough to understand.
Olivia still looked worn out, even four weeks after Ellen was born.
“Go to bed,” Jane told her sister. “I’ll take care of Ellen’s next feeding.” She had already boiled the nipples and caps and bottles for the baby’s formula.
“Thanks,” said Olivia.
She still did not look rested in the morning, and Jane worried that Martin had demanded sex, even though the doctor had forbidden it. But, judging by Martin’s grumpiness, that was not the case. Jane hurried to dress for work, although she wished she could stay home and take care of the baby so Olivia could rest more.
Even though the baby slept for long stretches at night, and Olivia did little housework, she still looked tired and nervous a week later. She had lost all the weight she had gained while pregnant, and more. She stopped smiling, even at Ellen, and then she would cry, for hours, over nothing.
For once Martin noticed something about his wife. “What’s eating her?” he asked one day. “Is she still bawling over Z.Z.? Or is it Horace?” He knew he was second best to Horace, although when he married Olivia he had not seemed to care. But now that she paid no attention to him, Martin brought up that old jealousy.
“I’m worried about her,” Jane told Dr. Mann, when he visited several weeks later. “But I suppose this will pass. I had a hard time, too, after Z.Z. was born.”
The doctor seemed to take the problem more seriously. “You had good reason,” he said. “Olivia doesn’t. I want you to keep a close eye on her. Write things down, so you’ll remember them.”
“Doctor, you’re scaring me. Is this serious?”
“It can be. We’ll see.”
****
Jane picked up the morning newspaper the day after the presidential election. The headlines proclaimed that Dewey beat Truman. Jane was disappointed. She had voted for Truman.
She soon found out the newspapers and magazines had printed their headlines ahead of time, announcing that defeat, but the people of the United States had different ideas. By the time the matter was straightened out and the announcement made that Truman had won, however, Jane’s attention was diverted from the subject of the presidency. It had become apparent that Olivia was in deep trouble.
Jane found her the next morning at four o’clock, pacing aro
und the apartment, weeping. She was so agitated Jane could not calm her enough to get her to go back to bed. She kept moaning about not being a good mother, saying she was not taking care of Ellen correctly. Jane tried to reassure Olivia, but it was as though she wasn’t heard at all. She sat on the couch in the dark living room with her sister, holding and rocking her, just as she had when Olivia was small.
Jane could remember perching on the edge of her stepmother Vanessa’s big bed. Mother’s long dark hair was on the fluffed-up white pillows, and she smiled down at Olivia in her arms. She shifted the baby over and with her free hand took Jane’s little hand in her own. Jane loved her and her baby sister so much then that she felt as if her chest would burst.
Sometimes, when Olivia was asleep and the baby nurse was watching over her, Mother would take Jane outside as she did before Olivia came. Or she would read stories to her. She smiled a lot and combed Jane’s hair, telling her how much fun they would have when Olivia got bigger.
In retrospect, Jane realized Vanessa had been relaxed and rested. Maybe Jane needed to hire a baby nurse to help take care of Ellen, so Olivia could stop worrying so much. She would only need to come during the day, when both Jane and Martin were at work. But Martin refused to hear of it and said terrible things about Olivia being lazy.
“I had hoped this would have passed by now,” Dr. Mann told Jane a few weeks later, as he emerged from Olivia’s room after examining her. “It seemed enough time had gone by for Olivia to get back to her old self.”
Jane, who was exhausted herself from sitting up all night with Olivia, fought back tears. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“You should sit down,” said Dr. Mann. “I want to tell you something. Where is Martin? He should hear this too.”
“Down at the corner. He’s been out drinking every night. He says there is no one to talk to here.”
Dr. Mann grimaced. “I don’t know how much you remember about Olivia’s mother, Vanessa,” he began.
Jane looked at the doctor she had known all her life. When she was small he had been the doctor who delivered her and Olivia, and had taken care of both them and their parents where they lived in Larchmont, New York. But when Jane was about eight, Dr. Mann had moved to Brooklyn. She had not understood why at the time, but she knew it was something to do with prejudice against the Jewish man. Jane’s father had been so incensed about the way the town treated the doctor that he had put his own home up for sale, and he and Pearl and Jane and Olivia had moved to Central Park West until the crash of the stock market. They had met up with their old doctor again when their circumstances brought them to Brooklyn. Now he was trying to explain something long in the past, and Jane knew it could only be bad news.