Boys & Girls Together (40 page)

“Look,” Sid said, and he dropped to his knees. “I’m begging.”

“Get up.”

“On my knees. What more do you want?”

“Get up, get up.”

“See my son.”

“For God’s sake, Mr. Miller—”

“I’m a poor Jew on my knees before you. No pride. Nothing. A begging Jew with his life in your hands.”

“Mr. Miller, please get up. I can’t take much more of this.”

“Look at the pictures.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking.” And he ripped the envelope open. “Now get up.”

Sid stood. “Well?”

Springer said nothing.

“Pinkus of the Shoreland took them. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Your son, he resembles these pictures?”

“Does a snapshot of the ‘Mona Lisa’ resemble the ‘Mona Lisa’?”

“Photographs can be deceiving.”

“These are. He is a hundred times more beautiful.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I love him like my life.”

“Send him down.”

“Poise,” Sid said, tying the boy’s tie. “Poise is crucial.”

“Poise is crucial,” the boy repeated.

“Hurry,” Esther said.

Sid turned on her. “The boy cannot have poise if you all the time ‘hurry’ him. The appointment is for three. It is not nearly that. There is lots of time.” He turned back to the boy. “Get your shoes on, Rudy. Hurry.”

The boy ran to his closet and pulled out his shoes.

“They’re shined?” Esther said.

The boy nodded. “This morning.” He sat down in a chair, tugging at the laces.

“Don’t sit so hard,” Sid said. “You’ll wrinkle the trousers.”

The boy dropped into a kneeling position and continued putting on his shoes.

“A winning smile is as crucial as poise. Remember that.”

“Yes, Father. A winning smile.” Let me see.

The boy smiled.

“Very winning,” Sid said. “Excellent. All right, after we dance, what do we do?”

“We sing ‘God Bless America’?”

“And how do we sing ‘God Bless America’?”

“With feeling. Not loud, but with great feeling.”

“And what are our hands doing?”

“During the first half, they are clasped on my chest, like in prayer. For the last half, the left dangles while the right salutes.”

“Good. The salute is very crucial.”

“Everything is very crucial.”

“That’s right,” Sid said. “Everything.”

“His tie,” Esther said, shaking her head.

“What’s the matter with his tie?”

“It’s wrong.”

“I selected that tie. It’s perfect. What’s wrong with it?”

“Stand up, Rudy.”

The boy stood. He was wearing a brand-new navy-blue suit and white shirt and dark shoes and dark socks and a red tie.

Esther studied him. “It clashes. That much is obvious.”

“Clashes with what?”

“Clashes with everything.”

“The tie is perfect.”

“The tie is not perfect. He is a blue boy, why a red tie?”

“To give color. Contrast.”

“The tie is wrong.”

“The tie is right.”

“The tie is wrong.”

“Please,” the boy said.

“See?” Sid said. “You’re upsetting Rudy.”

“
I’m
not upsetting Rudy.
You’re
upsetting Rudy.”

“Rudy, am I upsetting you?”

“Please.”

“The tie should be blue,” Esther said. “To match the suit.”

“Blue?” Sid said. “Blue!”

“Rudy, get your blue tie.”

“The boy will not dress like some goddam undertaker!”

Esther clutched her forehead.

The boy ran to his closet. “Perhaps this tie,” he said, holding one up. “It has both red and blue. Do you think?”

Esther said nothing.

“Very good,” Sid said. “Come. I’ll put it on for you.” The boy approached his father and stood quietly. Esther watched a moment, then turned away. “Where are you going?”

“To finish with my makeup.”

“Your makeup? Why make up?”

“So I can be seen on the streets.”

“What streets?”

“I’m going downtown with Rudy.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I tell you you’re not.”

“At a time like this, a boy needs his mother.”

“His father will be more than sufficient.”

“He needs me. I’ll keep him calm.”

“Joke.”

“I’ll keep him calm!”

“
I’ll
keep him calm!”

“I’m going.”

“You are not.”

“I am too.”

“Are not.”

“Am too.”

“Are—”

“
Stop!
” the boy said. “
Now!
”

“See?” Sid said. “See what you’ve done?”

“I have done nothing. Nothing!”

“Just relax, Rudy. I won’t let her upset you anymore.”

“He’s the one upset you, Rudy. Tell him.”

“Rudy, tell the truth, have I upset you?”

“Yes, Rudy, tell him. Tell him it’s not me.”

“You need me along, right, Rudy?”

“No, me.”

“Me.”

“
Neither!
” the boy cried.

“What?” Sid said.

“Rudy,” Esther said.

“Neither,” the boy said. “I need neither. You fight. I cannot have poise when you fight. I cannot smile. I will forget the salute.”

“Rudy—” Sid said.

“No,” the boy said. “I will go by myself. And I will smile. And I will have poise.”

“You can’t go by yourself.”

“Do you want this to happen?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Sid said.

“You’re very sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will face Mr. Springer alone.”

“Will you quit with the ‘don’t be nervous’? If you say ‘don’t be nervous’ one more time, Esther, I don’t guarantee what I’ll do. Because I am nervous. So shut up.”

“Well, at least stop pacing.”

“I could stop breathing just as easy. You want I should do that?”

“Now, Sid. Now, honey.”

“It was a goddam fool idea, letting him go alone.”

“He’s a big boy.”

“It’s still a goddam fool idea. If you hadn’t stuck your fat nose in—”

“We’ve been through that already enough, so why go through it again?”

“Because I’m scared,” Sid said. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m scared.”

“The boy will do wonderfully.”

“What if he forgets the words to ‘God Bless America’? He could. It’s possible. So what if he does? What then? Who’s gonna help him remember? Answer me that.”

“You’ll kill yourself with a heart attack. At the very least, ulcers.”

“He’s a kid. Kids get nervous. Goddammit, it’s way after three. Why haven’t we heard?”

“No news is good news.”

“If you say that one more time—”

“Hit me!” She jumped in front of him, blocking his path. “Get it over with. Hit me and shut up. Go on.”

Sid pulled her close, holding her very tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s very important, Esther. You gotta understand that. It’s gotta work. I can’t take the store anymore. I need something, a change, or I’ll die. I’m not kidding. I will. I’ll die, Esther.”

“Close your eyes, Sid.”

“They are closed.” He wedged his face down into her neck. “I really want this to happen, Esther.”

“It will happen.”

“The boy could forget.”

“The boy will remember.”

“He could be a movie star. The biggest. If that lousy Springer has any sense, he’ll see.”

“Are you crying, Sid?”

“No.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Sid pushed her away and moved to the window.

Esther pursued him. “If you cry, I’ll get a headache, I can almost feel it.”

“Don’t get a headache.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m fine,” Sid said. “Nerves.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“All right, Tootsie. I won’t be.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“What does he see on the fire escape? What’s so wonderful out there?”

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, going out on the fire escape.” He ducked under the open window.

“Good, maybe you’ll get some sun. You’re very pale, Sid.”

“Some sun, yes,” and he waved, walking slowly up to the fire-escape landing. Sid looked around but there was nothing to see. Below, an alley ending at the street, people walking by. Beyond the alley, other houses, other fire escapes. Beyond the houses, other alleys. Sid turned his face to the sun. It was warm and he could not remember having slept the night before; maybe a catnap, but that was all. Sid yawned and stretched, leaning back against the building, closing his eyes. The sun felt good. His body began slowly to drain. Esther was probably right. The boy would do well. The boy would not forget the words to “God Bless America.” No point in worrying about the boy. Worry about Springer. Maybe Springer didn’t like kid actors. A lot of people didn’t like Shirley Temple. What if Springer was one of them? No. You had to like the boy. You just had to. The old bags in the store, they proved that, the way they looked at him. Always looking at him, watching him as he moved. The kid had it with women; no question. In ten years, if his nose didn’t grow, the kid would have his pick of the world. Any broad. Princesses, society bitches, other movie stars; he’d have them all panting. I’ll pick up the pieces, Sid thought, and then he realized he had made a joke, so eyes still closed, he smiled. Any loose ends. Another joke. Sid leaned toward the sun. God, it felt good. I should do this every day, Sid thought. For as long as it’s warm. Good for what ails you. What ails you? Nerves, that was all. A case of nerves could kill you quicker than a case of Scotch. That’s what had ruined his pool game—nerves. From now on I’m gonna play it loose. That was the only way—

“SID!”

The moment he heard Esther shouting, he turned and started running down the rusty steps. Then he stopped. “Loose,” he said, and he sauntered the rest of the way, fighting the urge to run as Esther continued to shout.

“SID! SID! SID! SID!”

Sid crouched down outside the window, about to enter the apartment, but he stopped after a look at Esther. She was standing no more than a foot from him, inside by the window, staring out. As he crouched, he dropped directly into her line of vision, only she didn’t see him. Or if she did, he couldn’t tell, because she continued to stare blankly out, shouting his name, “
Sid! Sid!
” over and over. Sid looked past her into the center of the room where the boy was. The boy was totally bald, but other than that he appeared the same as when he left hours earlier, his blue suit still neatly pressed. Sid looked back at staring Esther, then at the bald boy. Then Sid snapped. He hurled his body through the window, tripping, falling inside, rolling to his feet, lunging arms out at the boy. During the next moments he said several things, all of them indistinctly. “This to me,” he said. And “Cut it all off. You had it all cut off.” And “You mocked me!—Mocked me—On my knees I went to that man—I begged that man—Mocked me—You mocked me—I begged like a beggar I begged, and you mocked me—my pride I gave up and you mocked me. I fell on my knees—I crawled—Me! Me you mocked—Me!—
Me!
—
Me!
—” When he wasn’t talking, he hit. He hit the boy’s face and the boy stood there, and then he slammed the boy in the stomach and as the boy doubled up Sid slammed him again, this time on the neck, and the boy fell. Sid plunged down on top of him, swinging his fists at the face. Sid tried grabbing the boy’s hair, but there was none, not a strand, so he had to content himself with the boy’s ears, slapping them, shaking them, bouncing the boy’s head against the floor. Esther fell on top of them, trying to pull Sid away, but Sid was in no mood for pulling. Esther was screaming his name still, but the meaning was different as she crawled on her husband’s back, shrieking, trying to stop his hands as they pulled at the boy’s ears. Sid continued to bounce the boy’s head against the floor. There was much blood now, and as Esther finally toppled Sid off, they all got smeared with red. The boy lay still, breathing but still, and Sid sat beside his body, panting like an animal. Esther was whimpering, and Sid watched her a moment before he wheeled to his feet and fled. Esther glanced after him, then returned her attentions to the boy, hurrying after a cloth, wiping the blood from his battered face. Then she lifted him and carried him to the sofa and took off his clothes. The boy was aware now, eyes half open, and Esther cried, smiling down at him because he wasn’t dead. She wept wordlessly as she stroked his face, kissed his eyes. The boy blinked. “Can you hear me?” The boy nodded. “Are you all right?” A nod. “Can I get you anything?” No nod. “Can you sleep?” A nod. “Try, then.” The boy turned his face to the wall. “I won’t be long,” Esther said, and she hurried across the room, down the stairs and outside, looking for Sid.

Fifteen minutes later she found him, standing in a corner of the darkened delicatessen, his face to the wall. He did not turn when she entered. “He’s all right,” Esther said, “I think.” Sid said nothing. “To be sure we ought to maybe call a doctor but how can I call a doctor? What can I say? ‘My husband tried to kill my son’? Can I say that? Yes?”

“I didn’t try to kill him.”

“No?”

“I was only teaching him a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

Sid said nothing.

“
What lesson?
”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t believe me either.”

“Apologize to the boy.”

“Why did he have his hair cut? It was for him we did everything. Why did he cut his hair?”

“Ask him. Talk to him. Apologize.”

Sid stayed standing in the corner.

Esther jerked him away.

“Don’t,” Sid whispered.

Esther pulled him along.

“I worship him,” Sid whispered. “With all my heart. He is my son.”

When they stood on the landing outside the apartment Esther said, Go on.

Sid pushed at the door. “Loving means caring, isn’t that right? If I didn’t care, would I have touched him? Doesn’t that prove I love him?”

Esther stayed on the landing, and, when she was alone, she pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to stop the pain.

“He’s not here,” Sid said, reappearing a few minutes later.

“Not on the sofa? Not in the bedroom?”

“Not here.”

“Not on the fire escape?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”