Chapter 51

I had to tell someone how my family was going from bad to worse. I considered calling Bernie, who no longer seemed to begrudge my refusal to marry him and might help me understand my father better. In the end, I rejected that idea. We were more than civil to each other, but things were still a bit touchy between us. Ruchel was useless too. I still itched to zotz her for blurting out what she knew would send Papa into a tizzy. I also resented how peachy her life was. Envy made me feel guilty, but I couldn’t shake it. Nor did I want to. The combination of anger and self-pity was satisfying. It was childish, but technically so was I, even if I no longer lived with my parents. That left Leah. She’d been standoffish lately, but I hoped she’d hear me out since I wasn’t going to talk about Bernie or sex.

Horses and people hadn’t yet turned the snow to slush when I left for her house the next morning, trudging through the same hushed streets my parents had taken the night before. Leah’s mother answered the door. “Oh, Dev. I was expecting, I mean ... Come in dear, we haven’t seen you in a while. Can I get you a cup of tea? A jelly donut?” A plain tin menorah sat on the table, the candles for the second night of Chanukah already wedged in place.

I declined the offer and made straight for the back room to unburden myself. As soon as Leah hugged me, it all poured out. “Shmuel’s dead, my father hates me, and my mother’s taken my father’s side. I have no family anymore.” I accepted her freshly-ironed handkerchief.

“Your brother’s gone,” Leah commiserated, “but your mother will be back on Sunday to cook for you and Ruchel, and your father will come around eventually.”

I sniffled. “No, he won’t. Papa’s angry because my uncle is paying for me to go to college. Ruchel spilled the beans and now Papa thinks I’m in cahoots with his enemy.” My misery was genuine, yet I couldn’t help admiring my woebegone performance, good enough to rival Theda Bara. I waited for another hug and a sympathetic tsk, tsk from Leah.

Instead, she glanced at the clock on her dresser. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother feels bad and is on her way to see you right now,” she said. Her ticking clock matched the sound of pacing coming from the front room. Something hinky was going on. The doorbell rang.

“Good morning, dear,” I heard Leah’s mother say when she opened the door. The voice that answered was Bernie’s. “Here’s the radio. Not your usual engagement gift, but my father gave us his most expensive model.” My jaw dropped and this time I wasn’t performing.

“It’s lovely,” Leah’s mother said. “You can put it on the credenza when you two find an apartment.” There was muffled talking whose gist I had no trouble filling in. “Leah, dear, come see what Bernie brought.”

I glowered at Leah. Tears leaked from her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dev. The last thing I ... we ... wanted was to hurt you. Even though it’s not as if ...” Leah gave up.

“As if I wanted to marry him.” I finished the thought, the same way Leah and I had once completed each other’s sentences as children. She nodded. Now I understood why Leah had grown distant again the last few weeks.

Over the thudding of my heart, I heard Bernie tell her mother, “My father has to work on inventory, so my folks wondered if we could come to dinner an hour later tonight.” He stopped as Leah and I entered the room. “Fine,” said Leah’s mother. “Or wait until tomorrow. Chanukah lasts eight days, plenty of time for our families to celebrate together.”

Leah started to move toward Bernie, but stopped midway. My eyes drilled into him until he looked down at the worn carpet. I returned to the back room, waiting for Leah to say goodbye to her fiancé and then talk, really talk, to me.

“How soon after I turned him down did Bernie turn to you?” I put it to Leah bluntly.

“I don’t remember, Dev. Does it matter?”

It shouldn’t have, but in my anger at the world’s unfairness, I wanted to grill her until she twisted and curled in on herself like a skewered shrimp roasting over an open flame. Leah, eager to tell me whatever I needed to hear to forgive her, alternated between apology and ecstasy.

“Bernie gave another D’var Torah at Friday night services, maybe two months ago, and at the one afterwards, my bubbe congratulated him. Bernie and my grandmother were still talking when I brought her some tea and cake, and he asked me what I thought of his sermon.”

I imagined Bernie lecturing the congregation to get with the times. “What did you say?”

“That his talk was interesting, something like that.”

“Come on Leah, Bernie’s ideas are too modern for you.”

Leah looked dreamy. “To tell the truth, I was staring more than listening when he spoke.”

I snorted. “Leah, I am shocked at you. What on earth was going through your mind?”

She blushed. “It doesn’t matter if Bernie’s ideas are different than what I once believed. He’s my rabbi, and soon he’ll be my husband, and it’s my place to follow him.”

Nothing modern in that, I thought.

“We do agree our household will be traditional. We both want children, God willing.” Leah giggled. “We argue over who we want the children to look like. I say him, and he says me.”

I’d heard enough. Seeing Yitzak last night had made me marvel about the miracle of procreation, but it hadn’t made me yearn for a baby of my own. So why did hearing Leah burble about the children she would have make me jealous? And why did her swooning over Bernie make me want to bust up their courtship? Maybe I was just lonely at the moment, afraid love would always elude me and sad that I’d never have or make a family as close as the Mendels. Worse, maybe I was scared that a career as a scientist would feed my brain but starve my heart.

While I put on my coat, Leah grabbed my hat and scarf to stop me from leaving. She searched for something to say to prove she was still my friend, and concerned with my happiness. “Your father will get over your not marrying Bernie now that he’s engaged to someone else.”

“You know Papa better than that. Bernie marrying my best friend makes it worse. To come close and miss at the very end is like Shmuel almost becoming a rabbi, and then dying.”

“That’s not fair, Dev. Your father substituted Bernie for his dream of Shmuel becoming ordained. Why can’t he substitute you for his dream of a child succeeding in America?”

“Because that never was my father’s dream. He wanted a rabbi, not a success story.”

“Nonsense. It’s the dream of every immigrant. Bernie’s been assigned a shul in the Bronx filled with people moving up from the Lower East Side. He’ll be an example for them.”

“Bernie’s a Yankees fan,” I said, eager to divert Leah from what my father wanted and pinprick her bubble. “I’m sure living in the Bronx will make him happy.” The Yankees were building a new stadium and I hoped Bernie and Leah would live right near it, under the elevated train that ran past. The vibration would keep them up at night and they’d be too tired and grummy to make babies. Or they’d make so many, Leah would come to hate them.

“Bernie likes baseball?” Leah looked like the odd child out in a schoolyard threesome, excluded from the secrets I shared with Bernie. I wondered what else she didn’t know about him, like his not-quite-kosher imitation of immigrants butchering English. Or his love of root beer.

“We both hope you’ll give us your blessing.” Leah, sounding meek now, handed me my hat. I jammed it on my head and flung my scarf around my neck.

“Your bubbe will dance at the wedding. There are more appliances where the radio came from. You two have everything you need. Why do you care about my blessing?”

“Because I still need a best friend and Bernie needs a sister. We’re both only children and want you to be like an aunt to ours. Besides, we’re as excited about your future as we are about ours. Bernie and I expect to kvell with pride someday when you make a great discovery.”

I was tempted to retort that I was an only child too, but I wouldn’t take vicarious pleasure in their becoming parents. Nor did I believe they’d take pride in my achievements. Then I saw Leah’s pleading eyes. I used to think I needed her absolution for my sins, but now I wondered if Leah counted on my approbation more than I depended hers.

Squeezing Leah’s hands, I wished her and Bernie a lifetime of sholem bayess and said she’d make a perfect rabbi’s wife. I didn’t say she might someday have doubts about her dream-come-true marriage. Bernie was what she’d always wanted, but she was his second choice. Then again, I’d have settled for being second best in Papa’s eyes. Instead, he chose not to see me at all.