In the Unlikely Event (40 page)

Okay, then she'd stay with Irene, and Ben could move in upstairs. When she announced her plan, Rusty said, “But Irene and Ben are coming with us.”

“I don't believe you!” Miri ran downstairs to find Irene.

Irene said, “I should let my girls go without me? Are you crazy? Never!”

Ben said, “There's plenty of real estate opportunities in Las Vegas. Not that I need the money, but I like the idea.”

LATER
, at the twice-postponed pizza supper, once because of Miri, once because Dr. O couldn't make it, Dr. O said, “I can promise you
this, Mirabelle. I'll love your mother and take care of her, and you, as long as I live. And I'll never give either one of you a bum steer.”

“What about Natalie? Would you give her a
bum steer
?”

“Miri,” Rusty warned.

“It's okay,” Dr. O said to Rusty. “Mirabelle doesn't trust me yet. But I'm hoping, in time, I'll earn it.”

“Stop calling me that,” she said to Dr. O.

He looked hurt. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Miri.”

“Okay,” Dr. O said. “From now on it's Miri.”

RUSTY CAME
to her room and knocked on the door before she opened it. “I wish it could have been different,” she said. “I know people are saying I stole him away from Corinne but I didn't. You have to believe that, honey. Please.”

“Did you fall in love in an instant, like a flash of lightning?”

“I wouldn't describe it that way. I was volunteering with the Red Cross. I'd bring him coffee and Danish at the morgue,” Rusty said, “sometimes late at night. He needed to talk, to unwind. It was gruesome work, identifying burned and broken bodies.”

“I don't want to hear about that.”

“Okay.”

“And I don't want to hear about the other stuff, either.”

“I understand. But you should know that when Natalie got sick we decided to end it before it had even begun.”

“So then, what…you changed your minds?”

“Staying apart didn't work out.”

Miri could have laughed but she didn't.

Rusty tried to give her a hug. Miri stood stiffly at first, then relented. She knew she had the power to refuse but she was losing her will.

“It's going to be a great adventure,” Rusty whispered.

Miri never thought about her mother being adventurous. If she was so adventurous how come she never went anywhere or did anything except get up and go to work every day, five days a week, and
on weekends clean the house and do the laundry? When Miri put that to her, Rusty said, “Because I took my responsibilities seriously. I still do.”

“Would you marry him if he were staying in Elizabeth? Would that be enough of an adventure for you?”

“I love him, Miri. Our lives together will be all the adventure I need. I'd stand by his side no matter what.”

That was a powerful message for Miri. She loved Mason. But she wasn't standing by his side
no matter what
. And neither would Rusty, she bet, if the
no-matter-what
was Polina, or someone like Polina. If the
no-matter-what
was a pack of lies.

“Would you have gone without me?” Miri asked. That was really all she wanted to know.

“I could never leave you, Miri. How could you doubt my love?”

Even if she could doubt it, why would she? Why make life harder than it had to be? She was so tired from all of it. Too tired to fight it anymore. Too tired to run every time someone she loved disappointed her.

So, that was that. She was going. Mason wasn't.

JUNE 22—Miss Leah Rose Cohen, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Cohen, of Cleveland, Ohio, and Mr. Henry Joel Ammerman, son of Mrs. Irene Ammerman and the late Max Ammerman, of Elizabeth, were married this afternoon by Rabbi Gershon B. Chertoff at the Hotel La Reine in Bradley Beach. The bride graduated from Ohio State University. The groom served in WWII with the Army in Europe. He is a graduate of Rutgers University and is a reporter for the Daily Post.

The bride wore a tea-length dress of white dotted swiss with a pink sash and carried a bouquet of New Dawn roses and peonies. The groom's sister, Mrs. Rusty Ammerman, of Elizabeth, was Matron of Honor. She wore a pale pink sheath. The two bridesmaids, Pamela Cohen, of Cleveland, sister of the bride, and Miri Ammerman, of Elizabeth, niece of the groom, wore matching dresses in deep pink cotton sateen.

The couple will honeymoon in Atlantic City, before moving to their new home in Washington, D.C.

33

Miri

It was a perfect day at the Jersey Shore, breezy but not so breezy their hairstyles were ruined or the chuppah was in danger of blowing over. Miri was annoyed that Rusty thought she'd needed to lecture her that morning about how this was Henry and Leah's big day and no matter what else was happening, no matter what else they were thinking or feeling, they were going to be happy for Henry
and Leah. As if Miri needed to be told. As if she would come to Henry's wedding and mope over her own loss. Although she felt her loss every minute of every day, her love for Henry was stronger.

Leah's mother was chatty but stayed close to Aunt Alma. She and Irene both wore beige at Leah's request, a color that didn't suit either of them. Irene draped a flattering pink floral scarf around her neck, and gave a matching scarf to Leah's mother, who was grateful. Leah's father didn't mingle.
Sy's arthritis is bothering him
, Leah's mother explained to anyone who asked. Dr. O and Rusty decided it was too soon to be out together as a couple so he didn't come to the wedding. But Ben Sapphire did, and he kept Leah's father company, making sure he had enough to drink to be cheerful, but no more.

Neither Leah's sister, who had just finished her sophomore year at Ohio State, nor Miri had ever attended a wedding, let alone been bridesmaids. They were seated together at lunch—chicken à la king with crispy noodles and rice. Pamela joked that the restaurant must be part Chinese, part ladies' tearoom, making Miri laugh, but it reminded her of going to lunch with Frekki before the play at the Paper Mill Playhouse.

After the wedding cake was presented, after Leah fed a piece to Henry, and Henry fed a piece to Leah, and the couple were toasted with Champagne, and the photographer, Henry's friend Todd Dirkson, captured it all, it was time for Leah to turn her back to the crowd and throw her bouquet over her shoulder. Rusty and Miri stepped out of the way. The bouquet landed in Irene's hands, who treated it like a hot potato, quickly tossing it toward Leah's friends, where Harriet Makenna caught it and promptly passed out. She was rescued by the photographer, who had met her when he'd covered the holiday party at the Elks Club.

Once upon a time Miri had planned to wear her bridesmaid dress with its detachable organza overskirt to the ninth-grade prom, but she'd decided against going. When her friends saw the depth of her sadness they accepted her decision. In the same once-upon-a-time she'd thought she'd wear the dress to Mason's junior prom, at Jefferson. She wondered if he'd go without her, if he'd go with someone
else? She doubted it. Or maybe that was just what she was hoping. She couldn't imagine ever wearing the dress again.

Mason

Polina kept her job working in the kitchen at Janet, but Mason avoided her like bad food. The kid, too. He was done with all that. No more girlfriends. They wanted too much from you. They expected you to make them happy. Even when they said they wanted to make
you
happy. Maybe someday he'd feel ready to see Miri again but he couldn't think when that might be. He'd fucked up big-time. He didn't expect her to forgive him. The question was, could he forgive himself?

Jack wouldn't let it go. Begged him to come with him and Christina to Las Vegas. Mason finally said, “Don't ask me again, Jack. I'm staying here, at Janet. I'll be fine.”

“At least come with us for the summer.”

“I can't. I've got a job. You know that. You're the one who set me up with your old boss. He's going to train me to be an electrician. Just like he trained you.”

“He'd understand.”

“No.”

“Mason—you can't live your life avoiding Miri.”

“Don't say that name around me. And yes I can. And I will.”

“There'll be other girls, believe me.”

“Cut it out, Jack, because you don't know.”

“I know you're seventeen.”

“That doesn't mean shit.” He hoped Jack wouldn't cry. He looked like he might. So Mason gave him a bear hug. That way they didn't have to look at each other. Jack patted his back for too long.

“Hey, brother,” Mason said, to get Jack to let go. “I'll write.”

“Every week,” Jack said, sniffling. “I need you to promise.”

“I promise.”

“And I'll call every two weeks,” Jack told him. “On Sunday nights.”

Mason nodded. Then he asked what he'd been thinking all along. “What about 1-A, Jack?”

“No word yet. I'll see you for Christmas, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, Christmas.”

Steve

The morning after graduating from Jefferson High, Steve went downtown to the army recruitment center on Elizabeth Avenue and enlisted. He filled out all the paperwork, set up an appointment for a physical that afternoon, and he was in. It was that easy.

Phil was apoplectic. “Are you crazy? We're going to Lehigh, not Korea.”

“You'll have to go without me.”

“Steve—come on!”

“It's done.”

“Do your parents know?”

“They will.”

“They're going to go ape-shit!”

Steve shrugged.

He told his father first. He went to his office hoping to catch him before he left. His father was staying at the Elizabeth Carteret hotel these days, in the same room where Joseph Fluet, the guy who'd investigated the airplane crashes, had stayed.

“Hello, Steve,” Daisy said. “Congratulations on your graduation.”

“Thanks.”

“I have something for you.” She pulled out a package wrapped with manly paper and tied with a brown ribbon. “I hope you'll enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Daisy.”

“He's with his last patient of the day,” Daisy said. “I'll tell him you're waiting.”

When the last patient left, his father joined him in the waiting room. “How about supper at Three Brothers?” his father said. “I've been eating there a lot lately.”

“Your girlfriend doesn't cook for you?” His father gave him a sad smile. So Steve said, “Sure, I like their burgers.”

Steve waited until his father finished his moussaka, then the baklava he'd ordered for dessert. He'd never seen his father eat Greek food. Steve didn't like baklava—too sticky for him. He was off desserts anyway, trying to get into shape before basic training. When he broke his news his father didn't take it well.

“Now?” he said. “You've enlisted now, when we're still fighting in Korea? No, son. I'm not going to let you do this.”

“Too late, Dad. It's done.”

“I'll get you out of it. I'll tell them you're not yourself.”

“But I am myself.”

“No, Steve. You haven't been yourself in a long time.”

“How would you know?”

“I know my son.”

“Not anymore. You don't have any idea who I am.” Steve stood up. “Thanks for supper.”

“Sit down,” his father said. “We're not finished.”

“I'm finished.”

His father grabbed his arm. “You can't tell your mother about this.”

“Says who?” Steve shook off his father, saluted him, then marched out of the restaurant.
Hup two three four…hup two three four
.

His father followed him out the door and down the street, calling, “Steve…I mean it, don't tell your mother. Not now.”

Steve stopped. “You're not going to be able to fix this, Dad. I'm telling her.”

“Then I'm coming with you,” his father said.

“That should make Mom happy.”

HIS MOTHER WAS
in the den, sitting in her favorite chair, working on a needlepoint canvas. What was she making this time? A pillow for him to take to college? Fern was on the floor in front of the television watching
Hopalong Cassidy
. Natalie was probably locked in her room.

“Hey, Mom…”

“Steve! I thought you and Phil were going to a graduation party tonight.”

“I had something more important to do.”

His father stepped into the den.

“Daddy!” Fern ran to him, jumped into his arms.

“You're not supposed to be here,” his mother said to his father. “Steve…I'd like to talk to you privately,” his father said.

“Sorry, Dad.” He faced his mother. “I have some big news…”

His mother's face changed. Was she scared or expectant?

“I've joined up.”

His mother put down her needlepoint. “Joined what?”

“You're in the army now,”
he sang, marching around the room.
“You're not behind a plow, you'll never get rich, diggin' a ditch, you're in the army now.”

Fern laughed.

“What is he talking about?” his mother asked his father.

“He enlisted,” his father said.

His mother jumped up and lunged at his father. “You put him up to this!”

“Corinne…” his father said, setting Fern down.

“He's supposed to go to college, not the army,” his mother shouted.

Natalie appeared in the doorway. “This sounds interesting.”

“Did you know?” his mother asked his father. “Did you?”

“I just found out,” his father said.

“He can't do this. He's a boy. He has no experience.”

“Take another look, Mom,” Steve said, pulling himself up to his full six-foot height, shoulders thrown back, eyes straight ahead.

“No!” Corinne cried. “I won't have him throwing his life away.” She ran out of the den with Steve's dad right behind her. A door slammed. Voices were raised.

“Nice going, Steve,” Natalie said.

“I figured you'd appreciate the drama.”

“Will you wear an army suit?” Fern asked.

“It's called a uniform,” Steve said. “And yes, I will.”

“Will we have a cake to celebrate?”

“I doubt it,” Steve said.

“How about a gun?” Natalie asked. “Will you get a gun?”

“Everybody in the army gets a gun.”

“Don't bring it home.”

LATER
, when he unwrapped Daisy's graduation present he found something that looked like a handmade book, with long pages covered in red construction paper and black letters spelling out
Player Piano
by Kurt Vonnegut. Behind it was an old issue of
The New Yorker
magazine, dated January 31, 1948, with a paper clip marking a story, “A Perfect Day for Bananafish,” by J. D. Salinger. He opened the card.

Dear Steve,

I convinced the manager of the Ritz Book Shop to give me these galley proofs of a book that will be published this summer. It is Mr. Vonnegut's first novel. Something tells me you will like this writer.

Congratulations on your graduation.

Wishing you all the best, always.

Daisy

P.S. The Salinger story is one I recently came across while browsing through a stack of old magazines.