Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  “When?”

  “Now. That is, this morning—”

  “All right…Are you bringing Michele?”

  No, I’m leaving her with the governess…“Of course.”

  Sara was always so apprehensive when Michele visited. She touched everything, opened doors, closets, drawers, almost broke a piece of Dresden last week.

  Doris’ pulse seemed to beat a little too rapidly as she stood ringing her mother’s bell.

  “Michele, don’t touch any of sissy’s things. Okay?”

  The little girl remembered being reprimanded. “I won’t mommy.”

  Doris smiled down at her. “I know, you’re a good girl.”

  The door was opened by Mary. “How are you, Mrs. Levin?” she asked in her soft Southern accent. “And how’s my precious little sugar plum?” she said to Michele, who was clinging to her mother. “Here, let me unbutton your coat, honey…There we are. Your mother is in her bedroom, Mrs. Levin.”

  Doris found Sara sitting at her dressing table. “I’m glad to see you, mama.”

  “Me too, Doris.” Sara kissed Michele and sent her off to the kitchen to get a glass of milk and a cookie.

  “Could I have it in here, sissy?”

  “No, dear. Go in with Mary like a good girl,” Sara answered quickly.

  “I am a good girl, mommy said so—”

  Doris told her, “Of course you are, darling, but go and have something with Mary.”

  “Couldn’t I bring it back, mommy?”

  “No, honey.”…We mustn’t eat in sissy’s boudoir, no crumbs on the carpet, God forbid…

  When Sara saw Michele leave she visibly relaxed.

  “Don’t let me keep you from what you’re doing, mama.”

  Sara went back to her makeup.

  Why did she feel so damned uncomfortable, so unsure of herself sitting in her own mother’s house? “I have some wonderful news for you, mama.” Doris swallowed hard.

  “Really? That would be nice for a change—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Silence. Sara observed Doris’s reflection in the mirror. “How could you allow yourself to get pregnant? Don’t you take precautions?”

  “Of course I do…”

  “Well then?”

  “I wanted to have another baby…”

  Sara shook her head. “Doris, I don’t understand you at all. How could you think of having another child in your financial position?”

  “Because I decided it was time.”

  “Why, are you so old? You’re only twenty-two.”

  “Yes, but Michele is three and I didn’t want to wait any longer.” She listened to her own lie, and felt it was in a good cause. She was not going to admit the accident to mama, risk having the child know from her at some point and suffer for the “sin” of being unwanted as she had, even if mama didn’t realize it…“I think it’s important for children to be close in age…”

  Close in age, Sara thought. Oh, that foolish girl…Rachel, for all her snootiness, was the smart one…she’d had her child, a son yet, and now she and her husband were off in the Bahamas sipping rum and Coca Cola…My God, Sara thought, if there had been precautions when she was first married…Well, she couldn’t put her head on Doris’ shoulders. If Doris wanted to struggle needlessly all the rest of her life, well, that was her decision…“Well, mazel tov. How far along are you?”

  “About six weeks. Henry is so thrilled and Michele keeps asking if she’s going to have a little sister or brother—”

  “That’s wonderful,” Sara said, her tone belying her words.

  Michele came back into the bedroom and climbed on to the chaise longue.

  “Doris, please take her off the furniture…”

  Doris felt the old nervous feeling with mama…Damn it, why did it still seem to matter to her so much if mama approved, why did it hurt so badly when she didn’t…

  “Doris, I asked you to take her off the furniture.”

  “Come sit on my lap, sweetheart,” Doris said, lifting Michele down.

  But Michele didn’t want to sit on Doris’ lap. “Can I play the piano, mommy?”

  “Mama?”

  Sara nodded.

  Doris took her by the hand and they went to the livingroom, where she sat Michele down on the piano bench. “Just play softly, honey.”

  Michele was already engrossed in the black and white keys as Doris went back to her mother’s room.

  “How’s papa?” That was usually a good diversion.

  “Fine, works terribly hard…Not a lazy bone in his body, even at his age. That’s why he’s such a success.”

  No question who that was about…They were almost like strangers, Doris thought. What did they talk about now? Ah, Lillian…“Imagine, Lillian graduating this year…”

  “Yes, it’s hard to believe, but children grow up and parents are left alone.”

  Michele’s discords on the piano were giving Sara a terrible headache. “Doris, you’ll have to forgive me, but I must get dressed. Please take Michele home, she’s getting a little restless.”

  “All right. Well, it’s been nice seeing you, mama. Have a lovely afternoon—”

  Sara got up and looked at Doris. “I’m happy for you, Doris…if this is what you want. I just hope for everybody’s sake that Henry makes a better living—”

  “I’m sure he will…but I’d be very happy if you meant it.”

  “Meant what, Doris? About Henry?”

  “No. I wish you were happy about me having a baby. Children can be a blessing to…”

  And a heartache and a headache, and can also make you feel guilty as hell…

  Sara took out a five-dollar bill from her wallet and gave it to Doris. “Here, dear, take Michele to lunch. It’ll be nice for you…And God bless you, Doris. I’d help you more if I could, but you know how little I get. Papa isn’t the most generous man. I still have to fight for everything. Life isn’t ever all roses.”

  Doris almost smiled. Mama really believed it. She had said it for so long now that in her mind it was the truth…

  “I know, mama dear. I know.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  SARA WAS PREPARING FOR Lillian’s graduation as though she were making her debut into society. She did ask Lillian what she wanted, but she called Doris a dozen times a day to consult with her. Consult was hardly the right word; she was calling to tell Doris about her fabulous ideas. She was going to make this the extravaganza of the year.

  Doris listened with one ear while her thoughts strayed back to her own graduation. She remembered coming out of her bedroom on prom night and going to the kitchen to gorge on Oreo cookies and a large glass of milk…

  “We’ve hired an orchestra,” Sara was saying, “and I want you to come with me to pick out the flower arrangements.”

  “I’d love to, mama, but in all honesty, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard? It’s only a graduation party—”

  “Do you resent Lillian, Doris? I seem to get the impression…Remember, I couldn’t give you a party like that. I wasn’t in that position at the time.”

  “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant—”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “That I thought it might be nice to have a party at home instead of a formal dinner dance at the Palace Hotel. Unless times have changed a lot, it seems rather…adult.”

  “You forget, Doris, Lillian is going on nineteen.”

  “No, I remember. All right, mama, I’ll go with you.”

  “Could you get a sitter for Michele?”

  “I don’t have the money. And besides, she’s awfully good—”

  “I’ll give it to you. Please get a sitter.”

  Lillian was crying when she called Doris. “I’ve got to see you—”

  “Sure, honey, come on over…”

  Lillian started talking as soon as she walked in the door. “Oh, Doris, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Mama’s gone absolutely off her rocker. D
o you know about the party?”

  “Do I! If I had what this shindig is costing I’d be independently wealthy.”

  “But that’s not all…she invited girls I hardly know. Doris, it’s plain hell, I can’t stand it—”

  “I know, honey…”

  “She’s so possessive and she’s completely taken over my life. It’s as though I were some kind of a puppet. She never asks my opinion. She just goes merrily on her way. I don’t understand it—”

  “I do, darling. She’s living her own long lost youth through you.” And God help you…

  “But it’s my life. Why doesn’t she make friends of her own, get out and make a life like other women do?”

  “Because it’s easier for her this way. Besides, who could she be friends with? She can’t even stand her own daughters, except you.”

  “How lucky can I get? And papa’s just as bad. He interrogates me about every guy I have a date with, but all he seems interested in is who the boy’s father is. I know they want the best for me, but they never let me go out with anybody I like.”

  “Don’t let them do that to you.” Doris shook her head…“God, what a family. Rachel’s disappeared and mama punishes me for reasons I don’t even understand—maybe because I was unwanted, as if it were my fault…”

  Lillian looked shocked. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean one day she let it slip in a fit of anger that she hadn’t wanted me, that I was a mistake…Isn’t it great to know you weren’t wanted?”

  “God, what a thing to tell someone—”

  “Well, mama would never get the prize for diplomacy. And papa never forgave any of us for not being boys. How many times has he said, ‘You should have been a boy’?”

  “She’s got a new wrinkle now. You know how religious mama is? Well, she just joined Temple Emanuel and guess why?”

  “’Cause she just discovered God?”

  Lillian laughed. “So that I can attend every crummy social function and meet a nice rich Jewish boy. And she has a new obsession—Steward Gold. He’s going to be my escort to the party. I don’t like him, but mama and papa do.”

  “Well, honey, you’re their last chance—”

  “Yes, but the point is I’d like to have a chance to make up my own mind. Is that asking too much?”

  “Let me give you a little advice, darling. If you don’t make up your own mind, you’ll wind up marrying someone they choose and you’ll have the rest of your life to deal with that…your life, not theirs…”

  When Jacob received the bills for Lillian’s party Sara and he had a true battle royal.

  “You’ve gone crazy, absolutely crazy. How the hell do you think I earn my money? I know what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

  “What?”

  “You’re trying to outdo Rachel, but this is one bill you’re going to pay. I’m not giving you a dime. I’m not working this hard just so you can play your games.”

  “What do you mean you’re not giving? Half of what you have is mine and don’t forget it. Besides, what do you give me? Affection, companionship? What do I have from you? Tell me…”

  “You have this place, which is all you’ve ever wanted. But you brought up a good point. What have you given me? Since we’ve been married have I had a moment’s peace? You’re not a wife to me anymore, Sara, and no matter what I gave you it wouldn’t be enough…I’m the money machine—”

  “You’re a machine, period.”

  “And you? The whole world revolves around you. This apartment isn’t a home, it’s somewhere I sleep—and alone at that—”

  “You don’t need me, Jacob…You’re in love with your plant, your money. You have a mistress, Jacob.”

  Tonight’s argument was more upsetting than most to Jacob. Although fights had become a way of life, this was the first time he had to face it that there were feelings he could no longer push aside. Look at your life, Jacob…For years his only concern had been getting ahead, becoming rich, but what had started out of concern for his family had become an obsession, a substitute for the love and feeling of belonging he had searched for all his life. Sara, of course, figured largely in his immersion in his work.

  After she’d had the abortion she had become obsessed with not getting pregnant again, and the result was complete abstinence. The abortion itself was a blow to him, but he had still needed her. In fact, he had needed her more than ever, but he was compelled to face the realization that she was a woman who thought almost exclusively of herself. She had pushed him out of her life, and Jacob was not a man to beg or plead. But his resentment was too great to resist punishing her when he had a chance, and that had been one reason he had fought her so hard about money. In a sense, it was a sexual outlet for him. For a long time he had never considered sleeping with another woman. He may have grown away from Judaism, but he still believed it was a sin to commit adultery.

  He had married too young. What boy of eighteen considered anything more than having met a pretty girl who brought out feelings of burning desire? It had seemed only fitting to marry. He certainly hadn’t considered that she would eventually become a manipulative and, in the vernacular of the times, a neurotic woman. He laughed at how some thought she’d manipulated him into selling the house and moving. Nobody forced him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

  For a time the change had sustained him, but gradually he had realized that the only thing he had changed was his address. His sexual desire and loneliness had only been temporarily put to rest. He could have gone to a brothel, but the memory of that long ago scene, when he had awakened in a dirty room to find he had not only slept with a prostitute but had almost killed her, had left an impression. In fact, he still woke up from time to time with the nightmare fresh in his mind. God, how many times had he been invited to join the boys…But a brothel? Never.

  Damn Sara for bringing up a word that had been haunting him for six months now. Mistress…

  It had started the day Gloria Allen came to work for the meat packing company as a telephone operator. She was a beautiful young auburn-haired woman with lovely eyes, a supple body and a lilting voice that made him uncomfortably aware of her. That’s why he’d reacted so when Sara had said he had a mistress. Tonight’s argument brought Gloria sharply into focus. He suddenly realized he wanted to go to bed with her, and the revelation not only startled him, but made him feel terribly guilty…

  The next day Jacob simply couldn’t face going home and sitting across from Sara at that long dinner table. Not tonight…

  He walked into the Frenchman’s, the only decent restaurant in Hayward.

  While waiting for his dinner to be served he looked across the room and was startled to see Gloria Allen. For a moment he was tempted to ask her to join him, then immediately dismissed the thought. With last night’s revelation still fresh in his mind, that would be tempting the gods. In fact, he almost wondered if he should fire her…

  After dinner he slid out of the booth and walked toward the cashier. When he had paid his check he turned around—only to find Gloria Allen standing behind him.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sanders…”

  He answered formally, “Good evening.” He paused, then said abruptly, “Here, let me pay for that.” He took the check from her hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sanders…”

  He held the wide door open as she stepped into the soft twilight.

  “Well, goodnight, Mr. Sanders. And thank you for dinner.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Oh, not too far. I take the streetcar and get off one block from my place.”

  “Here, let me take you home—”

  “You’re sure it’s not putting you out?”

  He looked at her…What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he should let her take the streetcar, but impulse overcame logic. “No, it’s not putting me out. My car’s across the street.”

  There was something sensuous about the sound of Gloria’s high heels tapping against th
e concrete…He slid into the seat behind the steering wheel, and she let herself into the passenger seat and sat silently as he started the car. Except for the directions to her place, not a word was exchanged.

  Soon they reached the three-story building in which she lived, and she let herself out of the car. “Well, thanks a lot, Mr. Sanders—”

  Before he could respond she had shut the car door and was walking up the stairs.

  Once inside she leaned against the door, feeling very embarrassed. The meeting must have been so transparent. How was she going to greet him at work tomorrow?…

  She greeted him as usual the next morning, and his cold reply made her feel even more ridiculous.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  AFTER CLOSING TIME JACOB sat behind the steering wheel for a long contemplative moment, then turned the key and started the ignition. Although he sat a moment longer, he knew what he was going to do.

  Gloria was standing on the corner, waiting for the streetcar, when he pulled up at the curb beside her and leaned over to open the opposite door.

  “Get in, Gloria, I’ll drive you home…”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sanders,” she said as she got in.

  “For what?”

  “Driving me home—”

  “Listen, do you feel like going out to dinner?”

  Now her pulse raced. A few weeks ago she would have encouraged him, but tonight her instincts urged her to be sensible. Besides, he had hardly said a word to her since that meeting in the restaurant, and although she still found him attractive she was ill at ease with him.

  “I’d like to, but my kids are expecting me for dinner.”

  “Who’s with them now?”

  “My mother. She has a little house in Livermore, that’s where I’m going—”

  “So why can’t you call and tell her you’re going out?”

  “Because my kids live with her and I haven’t seen them all week.”

  “Another day won’t make that much difference, will it? I’d like very much to have dinner with you.”

  “Well… I suppose they’ll be a little disappointed…”

  “They’ll get over it. Here’s some change. Why don’t you call?”