The Believers

by Zoe Heller

  “Huh?”

  Audrey smiled. “You heard. What classes is Tanya talking about?”

  Lenny shrugged. “I dunno. I think she’s studying the Talmud or something.”

  “Jesus.” Audrey flopped back in her seat. “I’ve got these two”—she pointed at Karla and Mike—“voting Republican. And now Rosa’s training to be a fucking rabbi. What is going on with this family?”

  Karla picked up the package that Audrey had left on the chair. “Hey, Mom, why don’t you open your present?”

  “Yeah, go on, Ma,” Mike said. He took the package from Karla and placed it in Audrey’s lap.

  Still shaking her head, Audrey tore away the paper. Mike and Karla’s gift was a hardcover book with the title, Schmatte: A Photographic History of Garment Workers in London’s East End.

  “Oh, very nice,” she said.

  “Ooh, it’s beautiful,” Tanya cooed. “I love old black-and-white photography.”

  Karla nodded, pleased. “Yes, so do I.”

  Tanya, who liked to think of even her most unremarkable enthusiasms as her patented idiosyncrasies, looked irritated. “No, but I’m like obsessed,” she said possessively.

  Mike knelt down next to Audrey. “We thought you’d find it interesting,” he said, “with your dad being a tailor and everything.”

  “I was the one who found it on the Internet,” Karla added quickly.

  “Mmm…” Audrey flicked quickly through the pages.

  “I wrote something in the front,” Karla said.

  Audrey turned to the page on which Karla had put her inscription. For Mom, with love and admiration, from Karla and Mike.

  “Very nice,” Audrey repeated. “What a thoughtful present. Thank you.”

  She closed the book and laid it on the floor by her feet. “Now, what about that beer? Or would you like some wine, Lenny?”

  “Wine, please.”

  “Right you are. Go on, you open it.”

  “Maybe Mike should do that,” Karla suggested. She knew that her husband would resent Lenny’s opening the wine that he had brought.

  “Whatever,” Lenny said.

  “Get some mugs, Karla,” her mother commanded, “and the Chinese menu. It’s in the drawer next to the fridge.”

  When Rosa arrived an hour later, the food was sitting in the oven, and Karla was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor.

  “Shalom!” Karla heard Audrey drawl as Rosa entered the living room. There followed a brief exchange, most of which Karla was unable to make out. Then Rosa came into the kitchen. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded. Karla, her round face pink from her exertions, looked up apologetically. “It was so filthy in here. I just thought…”

  Rosa gave a little moan of irritation. “You’re not Mom’s indentured servant, you know.”

  “Sorry,” Karla said, scrambling up.

  “Don’t say sorry,” Rosa snapped.

  “Sorry…I mean, okay.” Karla smiled. “How are you? How was your day?”

  “Fine until I got here,” Rosa replied sulkily.

  Karla laughed nervously. Religion, she felt, had made Rosa more forbidding than ever.

  While they were taking the foil containers out of the oven and setting them on the table, Lenny wandered in. “’Sup, girls?” he said, leaning unsteadily against the kitchen counter.

  Rosa looked away. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now, Lenny.”

  “I didn’t tell Mom about your classes,” Lenny said. “It was Tanya. She didn’t know it was a secret…”

  “It’s not a secret, you idiot.”

  “So what’s your problem, then?”

  Rosa did not reply.

  “Okay, then,” he sighed. “Suit yourself.”

  Rosa wheeled around suddenly. “Tell me, does Tanya know about your little sleepover at my house the other night?”

  “No. Why? Do you want to tell her?”

  “Oh, no. God forbid I should be the one to break up your beautiful romance.”

  Lenny yawned. “Jesus, Ro. Chillax, would you?”

  “Don’t!” Rosa burst out. “Don’t tell me to chillax, okay? What are you, fourteen years old?”

  “Guys,” Karla said. “Remember it’s Mom’s birthday…”

  “Did you know that Jane has a boyfriend?” Rosa asked. “A fiancé, actually?”

  “Sure.” Lenny smirked. “She showed me the bunny he gave her. It was awesome.”

  The tendons in Rosa’s neck were bulging now. “If she’s such a big joke to you, why did you sleep with her, Lenny? Does it make you feel like a big man to seduce people you don’t respect?”

  Lenny let his head fall to the side, in a gesture of exhaustion. “C’mon, Ro, I respect her.”

  “Sure, that’s why you and that skeeve Jason spent the whole night laughing at her.”

  “We were having fun, Rosa! We were nicer to her than you were—sitting there like it was fucking Judgment at Nuremberg the whole night. What’s your problem? Are you against laughter as well as fucking now that you’re such a big Jew?”

  “That’s it,” Rosa said, folding her arms. “I can’t talk to you.”

  Audrey walked into the kitchen now, with her hands on her hips. “So where’s this bloody food then?”

  Dinner was fraught, even by Perry Street standards. Rosa was haughty and distant. Lenny was monosyllabic. Audrey alternated between bouts of moony distraction and small explosions of temper. The conversation at the table would have lapsed entirely on more than one occasion, had it not been for Tanya.

  “I’m totally against the war in Iraq,” she informed the family soon after sitting down. “I’m a total pacifist, aren’t I, Len’? I won’t even let you kill cockroaches in my apartment, will I?”

  Lenny grunted a reluctant corroboration.

  “So you would have been against us fighting in World War II, would you, Tanya?” Mike asked.

  “Totally!” Tanya cried. “Totally, I would have been against it. Violence only leads to more violence, Mike.”

  Karla listened, fascinated as always by Tanya’s confidence in the value of her contribution. How much simpler life must be when you believed so wholeheartedly that your grade-school opinions had the status of knowledge!

  “Hear that, Audrey?” Mike said. “Tanya wishes we hadn’t fought against the Nazis!”

  “What?” Audrey looked up from spooning food onto her plate. “Oh, yeah, well, Tanya’s got a lot of interesting ideas…” She studied the foil container in front of her. “I tell you what, Rosa,” she said, “I don’t think you’ll be wanting any of this. It’s got pork in it.”

  Rosa continued eating.

  “By the way,” Audrey said, “what is the Hebrew for chopsticks?”

  Rosa put her chopsticks down. “Ha ha. Very funny, Mother.”

  “Lenny and I went to this hilarious party last night,” Tanya said, after a moment. “We were walking past this place in TriBeCa and the guy on the door was this old friend of Lenny’s, so he let us in. It turned out to be a Doritos party—you know the chips? They were launching a new mesquite flavor. There was this enormous room, with like, ice sculptures of Doritos chips everywhere. It was amazing…”

  Karla listened with earnest concentration. She dimly understood that Tanya’s enthusiasm for the Doritos party was facetious—a joke of sorts, like her T-shirt—but even so, it depressed her to think of Lenny wasting his life on such foolishness.

  “…And then, at about one o’clock in the morning,” Tanya was saying, “Enrique Iglesias came down these big stairs. For real! It was fucked up.”

  “Who is Enrique Iglesias?” Audrey asked.

  “He’s a pop singer, Ma,” Mike explained.

  “There was like, dry ice everywhere,” Tanya went on, “and Enrique was singing this song about how great and tasty the new chip was…”

  Mike shook his head dourly. “That’s capitalism for you. Worshipping graven images of potato chips, while Kandahar burns.”<
br />
  Tanya giggled. She didn’t seem bothered by how poorly her anecdote had been received. She looked pleased, as if the family’s failure to be amused were flattering confirmation of her challenging, unorthodox sensibility.

  “So, come on, Rosa,” Audrey said, poking her with a finger. “Why don’t you tell us what you learned at Jew class tonight?”

  “I already told you, Mom. I wasn’t at a class tonight. I was at the hospital.”

  “Oh, give her a peanut! She visited her father!”

  “I saw Dr. Krauss. He seems very concerned about—”

  “Please! Don’t talk to me about that useless fucker. I hate that pigeon-chested, flat-arsed, albino bastard.”

  Everyone but Rosa laughed.

  “I do, though!” Audrey went on. “He gives me the creeps! There’s something not clean about him. He looks like he’s got genital herpes, I swear to God.”

  There was more general, outraged amusement. Rosa stared down at her plate with a pained expression.

  “Go on, smile, Rosa,” Audrey said. “It won’t crack your face.”

  “I would smile, Mom, if anything funny had been said.”

  “Oooh.” Audrey pretended to cower. “Yentl’s angry.”

  “I was trying to tell you what Dr. Krauss said about Dad—”

  Audrey slammed her hand down on the table. “Well, maybe I don’t want to talk about your father on my fucking birthday!”

  Mike sat forward and tapped a spoon against his mug of wine. “If I could have everyone’s attention for a moment…”

  Karla hugged herself with embarrassment. This was it. He was going to announce their adoption plans.

  “No, no, Mike.” Audrey cut him off with an irritable wave of her hand. “Don’t be a silly. We don’t want any of that.”

  Mike reddened and put down the spoon.

  Lenny stood up. “I need to piss.”

  “Oh, charming, Len,” Audrey drawled. “Let us know when you do a number two, won’t you?” She watched him leave the room, and then she turned to Rosa. “So, now, tell us, when you do go to class, what do you learn?”

  Rosa closed her eyes primly. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

  “How to do a nice brisket?”

  “Please, Mom, just drop it.”

  “What’s the big secret? It’s not fucking Mossad, is it?”

  Rosa gave a heavy sigh. “I study parshat ha-shavua,” she said, pronouncing the Hebrew words carefully. “Each week we examine a portion of the Torah.”

  “Ohhh. How useful!”

  Rosa gave a superior smile. “I guess it depends on how you define useful. I know very little about my religious heritage, and I’d like—”

  “Excuse me,” Audrey interrupted. “There’s a lot of things you know very little about. You know fuck all about quantum physics, but I don’t see you taking a class in that.”

  “Come on, Mom, let’s have a nice time,” Karla said. “It’s your birthday.”

  “Yes,” Rosa said, “that’s true. But right now, I’m interested in finding out something about my people and where I come from.”

  “Where you come from?” Audrey repeated. “Your people? What are you going on about, Rosa?”

  “The Jews,” Rosa said. “I hate to break it to you, but we are Jewish.”

  Audrey clapped her hands. “And Mike is a gentile. Should he be thinking about joining the Aryan Nation?”

  “So do you actually believe in God now, Rosa?” Mike asked with a smirk.

  Rosa paused. When she spoke it was with great, self-conscious dignity. “I can’t answer that, Mike. Sometimes I do.”

  “Oh, bloody marvelous!” Audrey exclaimed. “Sometimes you do! What does that mean?”

  “You know,” Rosa said, turning to her mother, “it would be nice if once in a while you were actually supportive of something I did or said, instead of automatically shitting on it.”

  Audrey looked at her with exaggerated astonishment. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been anything but supportive of my children.”

  “Sure, Mom. If you say so.”

  “What? All I’ve ever wanted for you is to do well and be happy.”

  “Really? That’s not been my impression.”

  “And what’s your impression been then?”

  “I think it would kill you if you thought I was really happy.”

  All eyes turned nervously to the head of the table where Audrey sat. “Dear, oh dear,” Audrey said after a moment. “This religion business is making you paranoid, Rosa.”

  Mugs clinked and chopsticks clicked.

  “I think it’s so cool that Rosa’s doing this,” Tanya said. “I would love to develop my spiritual side.”

  “I bet you would,” Audrey muttered.

  “I mean it,” Tanya said. “I think it’s important to be tolerant of other people’s faiths.”

  “Why?” Audrey said, turning on her suddenly. “Why is it important? Why should I respect a point of view that I think is crap?”

  “Well,” Tanya replied, undaunted, “you want other people to respect your beliefs, don’t you?”

  Audrey laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s a bit different, love. My beliefs are based on observable fact and scientific deduction. Rosa thinks there’s an old man in the sky who has a fucking heart attack every time a Jew eats a prawn. When people start believing in that shit, you don’t respect their point of view, you call the fucking doctor.”

  “Is it just prawns you’re not allowed?” Tanya asked. “Or all seafood? Because I don’t think I could give up lobster rolls…”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Giving up stuff suits Rosa down to the ground,” Audrey said. “She loves a bit of hair shirt, doesn’t she? Denial is her thing. That’s how she lived in a mud hut in Cuba for four years—”

  “Yes, wasn’t I silly?” Rosa interrupted. “When all that time, I could have stayed home just like you, directing the revolution from my mansion in Greenwich Village.”

  Audrey looked at her thoughtfully. “You know what I think you need, Ro? A boyfriend. I bet Mike could introduce you to someone nice in the union, couldn’t you, Mike?”

  “Mom—”

  “I’m serious, Rosa. A bit of sex would do you the world of—”

  “Stop it! Just stop it!”

  Audrey sat back and smiled. “See? That’s what I mean. You’re very tense. You need some release.”

  Again, Mike raised a spoon and tapped it lightly against his mug. “I’m afraid I really must insist now,” he said.

  “Lenny’s not here,” Karla whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “You have to wait for Lenny.”

  “I’ll get him!” Tanya volunteered. She stood up and left the room.

  “Ma,” Mike continued, “Karla and I have chosen today, your birthday, to announce some very special news—”

  “You’re pregnant!” Audrey broke in. “Well, it’s about bloody time.”

  Mike opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “No, Ma. It’s not that. We have decided to adopt a child.”

  “Oh!” Audrey paused. “Oh. I see.”

  Tanya came back into the kitchen now. “Uh, you guys…”

  Audrey ignored her. “Is it going to be American or foreign?” she asked Karla.

  “Sorry?” Karla said. “Oh! The baby, you mean? American, I guess. I mean, the agency deals with American children.”

  “Well, that’s a shame. Why wouldn’t you get one from Africa? They’re the ones most in need.”

  “Guys?” It was Tanya again, louder this time.

  Audrey turned around. “What?”

  “I think Lenny might have had an accident. The bathroom door is locked, and he’s not answering.”

  Lenny had not had an accident, as it turned out. Nor was he, as Mike tactlessly suggested while attempting to break down the bathroom door, dying or dead. He had simply fallen into an opiate stupor while sitting on the toilet. By the time the door had surrendered to Mike’s karate kicks and Mike had
slapped him around the face with perhaps more vigor than was strictly necessary, he was able to stand up and walk unaided to the kitchen. Here, having vomited briefly in the sink and given himself a wash-down with a wet dish towel, he pronounced himself quite well again.

  “You silly thing,” Audrey said, ruffling his hair. “You scared us all shitless.”

  “We thought you’d done an Elvis,” Tanya giggled.

  Rosa clutched her head in frustration. “Hello? Could we stop acting like he did something cute?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Audrey asked. “Spank him?”

  Mike, furious that his adoption announcement had been upstaged by Lenny’s collapse, gave a nasty little laugh. “That’d be a start.”

  “He was unconscious just now,” Rosa said. “This doesn’t concern you, Mom?”

  Audrey got up from the table. “Do you want a cup of tea, Lenny?”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  “He should have some chamomile, “Tanya said. “Or peppermint.”

  “Have you taken heroin this evening, Lenny?” Rosa asked.

  Lenny shrugged. “I just smoked a bit. I didn’t inject.”

  Rosa turned to Karla. “Am I the only one who thinks there’s a problem here?”

  Karla studied the congealing remains of Chinese food on the table. “It is a bit worrying, Lenny,” she said reluctantly.

  “He hasn’t injected for ages,” Tanya put in.

  “Maybe you should think about going back to rehab, Lenny,” Karla suggested.

  “He can’t do rehab,” Audrey said, quickly. “The health insurance won’t pay for another one. Do you want sugar, Len?”

  “Yeah—give me lots.”

  Mike sat up and slapped his thigh. “Right. We should be off soon.”

  “Not yet, Mike…,” Karla whispered, blushing at her husband’s insensitivity.

  “No,” he insisted, in a voice congested with anger, “we need to go.”

  Karla looked at him. His left leg was vibrating like a jackhammer. The journey home would be grim, she thought.

  “I’ll go and get our jackets,” he said, getting up.

  “What’s with him?” Audrey asked as he marched out of the room.

  “Nothing,” Karla said quickly. “He just needs to get up early tomorrow.”

  Mike returned and, with officious gentlemanliness, helped Karla into her jacket. “Good-bye, all,” he said tightly. “Thank you, Ma, for a lovely evening.”