Portraits (13 page)

Reading her thoughts Louie said, “I’ve already contacted a family where I think Sara will be very happy. They’re lovely people and they have three children—boys, nice little boys.”

“How old are these boys?”

Sensing Molly’s disapproval he answered offhandedly, “I’m not sure. The oldest I think is about thirteen and the others are probably eleven and nine.”

“I don’t like it, Louie, not one damn little bit—”

“Come now, Molly, what do you think’s going to happen? This is a fine, lovely, Jewish family.”

“In lovely Jewish families the boys are saints? Boys are boys, Jewish, or
goyim
. At that age they know all about little girls.”

“I take it back, Molly, you’re not such a sensible woman. In fact, I think you have a very suspicious mind.”

“You bet…when it comes to my child, I certainly do.”

“And I don’t? She’s as important to me as she is to you. Would I even suggest this lovely home if I thought for one moment she wouldn’t be safe? I’m really very upset and insulted.”

“Why should you be insulted?”

“Because I’m the one that found the place and you don’t seem to think I take my fatherly responsibilities very seriously.”

Molly looked at Louie. He always knew the right thing to say at the right time, always pushed the right buttons—leave it to Louie. “So tell me about this lovely home and these nice boys and this wonderful family, and where do they live?”

“You have a funny little habit, Molly. You ask so many questions in one sentence, I don’t know which one to answer.”

“You’ll find a way. Soo?”

Louie laughed. “Their name is Bromberg. They live in a modest two-story house in the Jewish section. Victor Bromberg has a wonderful bakery—small, but makes good money. Mrs. Bromberg—her name is Clara—is a real Jewish mother-type. The house and the children are immaculate, and the Brombergs are very religious. I think the situation is ideal for Sara, and when you see it so will—”

“All right, enough talk. I’ll get my coat and hat and we’ll go to see this marvelous home.” …

Molly’s worries were laid to rest when she sat in Mrs. Bromberg’s parlor. The smells that emerged from her kitchen were intoxicating and the smell of roasting brisket reminded her of home.

After drinking a glass of tea and eating homemade strudel and sponge cake, Molly left with a slightly lighter heart—but she would only be totally content when she’d seen Sara’s reaction.

That night Molly sat with her child and explained the situation—or as much as Molly felt Sara needed to understand. She asked Sara to be brave, but above all to remember that she and Louie loved and adored her. There were things in life that required great sacrifices, and since they were a family they had to make the best of the situation. It would only be a short time until Louie got settled in his new position and they would be together again…that was a sacred promise.

But for all Molly’s reassurances, Sara cried long and hard. “Why can’t I go with you, mama? I won’t be in the way.”

Molly wiped the perspiration from her forehead and tried once again. “It’s not a question of your being in the way. I just explained why. As soon as we can manage it you’re going to be with us…Now please, Sara, you’re a big girl. This is as hard for me as it is for you, so don’t make it harder.” She took her child in her arms and kissed her. “Trust your mother, please…”

Sara wiped away her tears. “All right, mama…but you will come for me soon?”

“Of course. Louie and I want you as much as you want to be with us…more. You’re my child.”

“And you’re my mother,” the girl said simply.

Putting the little girl’s head on her shoulder she whispered, “I know, darling…how well I know.”

H
AD THE LOVELY JEWISH
family lived up to Louie’s expectations, Sara might have adjusted easily. At first she was eager to please the Brombergs, but she soon discovered that the family that had appeared so proper and hardworking had a meanness of spirit she had never suspected or even encountered elsewhere.

What Mrs. Bromberg had acquired was not a boarder but a kind of Cinderella servant; before school and late into the night Sara did all the scrubbing, washing and polishing that gave the house the cleanliness Molly had so admired. Her only reward was a small portion of food that she ate alone in the kitchen.

It still might have been bearable if she’d been left to herself, but with her arrival those three nice Bromberg boys swore a truce among themselves and now directed their abusiveness toward her. Their games ranged from practical jokes to slapping and pinching and using foul language—but like the good little boys they were, they were careful to hide these small pleasures from their adoring mother.

The event that brought things to a head was one that Sara would long remember…One night when she was asleep, the oldest boy, Carl, crept into her room. She woke up with a start when he crawled into her bed, but before she could cry out he was on top of her, with one hand over her mouth and the other struggling to pull up her nightgown. As his hand closed over her breast she gave a wrench, freed herself and screamed out. Before he could put his hand over her mouth again to quiet the outburst, Clara came rushing down the hall. Now she flung open the door and stood trembling with anger. “What is this!”

Carl jumped out of bed and pointed in righteous indignation to a very frightened Sara. “It’s her fault, mama. She asked me to do it to her. I didn’t want to but she got me all excited…It’s hard to stop when a girl throws herself at you—”

Clara looked menacingly at Sara. Of course Carl would never do such a thing if he hadn’t been tempted. He was a fine Jewish boy with morals. But he was a young man already, with a young man’s desires, and when he was tempted…Well, she would not allow this little tramp to remain in her home and corrupt her boys. She had probably made advances to all of them, even her little Morris…

“I didn’t do anything, Mrs. Bromberg…honest. Carl—”

“I don’t want to hear your lies. You’re going to get out of my house, you hear? Out!”

“I have no place to go.” Sara was crying now.

“You should have thought of that before you corrupted my son.”

“I didn’t…He came—”

“I’ve heard enough. You’ll write to your mother today, you hear? And I’ll have plenty to tell her when I see her…You’ll come to a bad end, but you’re not my concern, thank God. In the meantime I don’t want to see you. Stay in your room and stay
away
from my sons.” And with that she turned and left, with Carl following her.

When Sara finally stopped sobbing, she sat down to write to her mother. She swallowed hard, praying her mother would believe her. She felt terribly confused—and without knowing why, very guilty…

It was late of an evening when Louie returned from the casino to find a very distraught Molly smoking one cigarette after another. She thrust a letter into his hand, then stood glaring at him as he read.

His outrage matched hers. “That miserable little son of a bitch, I should beat the hell out of him. Sara’s not going to live in a place where there are boys and that’s definite. This time will be—”

“Listen, Louie, and listen carefully.
This
time I’m going to bring Sara back—and that’s final.”

He tried to take her in his arms to soothe her, but she backed away. “Not this time…I know all your little tricks, but no matter what you say it’s not going to work. Sara’s coming here, you understand me, Louie?”

“Now, Molly, you’re very upset—”

“Damn it, shouldn’t I be?”

“Of course, and I’m just as upset as you are—”

“I doubt it.”

“That’s like a slap in the face.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to wake you up…I want my child and I’m going to get her.”

Louie poured two brandies, handed one to her. “Sit down, Molly, there’s no need to fight me. I want Sara as much as you do.”

She looked at him. Had she really won this round? The acute anger began to subside and she sat down and sipped at her drink. The look on Louie’s face as he took her glass to replenish it told her, yes, she had won—and victory tasted very good. Although still resolute, she began to relax.

Louie took her hand and kissed it, then her lips. “Molly, darling, don’t you know how much I want Sara, how much she means to me? Of course you do. I know you want to bring Sara now, but let me ask you something…Sensibly and logically, where is she going to live? In a hotel…in one room, if that’s—”

She jumped up. “Damn it, Louie, this time you’re not going to outtalk me. If you didn’t gamble so much, if you got rid of that horse—who’s more expensive to support than a child—if you were content only managing the casino, you
could
make a good living. We could have an apartment and live like human beings. But you make it sound like someone’s putting a gun to your head and forcing you to—”

“What kind of a living?”

“Better than you’re making now, when everything you earn you use to gamble or support that—”

“I do it because that horse is a winner.”

“You’re an idiot, an absolute idiot. When did that horse win? Not once…Now, I’m going to give you exactly one minute for an answer. Get rid of that horse, stop gambling, operate the casino or I’m leaving you—once and for all. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life this way, Louie.”

“You mean to say you’d walk out on me?”

“You can make a safe bet on
that
.”

“Damn it, Molly, give me a chance to get myself settled—”

“You just ran out of time. Keep your horse and to hell with you…I’m leaving. That’s it, I’ve had enough of this.”

“Fine, but you’ll regret this, Molly, leaving a husband who loves you, supported your child and clothed her. It’s not my fault if things don’t always go…”

Molly wasn’t listening.

Louie kept up the tirade as he watched her pack. She put on her coat and hat, picked up the house phone and asked to have the bellboy come for her bags.

“What are you going to use for money?” he asked. “You don’t have any money. How are you going to live?”

“Don’t worry about me…I have a few dollars I saved for just such an emergency.”

“How much?”

“Enough to take me to Brussels, and a little extra. It’ll do until I get a job. I’m not afraid…I was a milliner once and I can do it again.”

“Molly, you’re the most stubborn woman I ever met.”

“So the next one you get won’t be so—”

“Okay, Molly,
okay
…I’m not going to beg. You go ahead and do what you want. At this point I just don’t give a damn any more.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small roll of bills and threw them on the bed.

His gesture was very grand. A real sport to the end.

T
HIS TIME THE SMELLS
coming from Clara Bromberg’s kitchen were not so intoxicating. Molly stood in the parlor with Sara at her side and listened to Clara’s tirade about Sara’s conduct—the hardship Clara had endured, the responsibilities of raising a girl…especially this one. Why, Sara had eaten them out of house and home and the money Molly and Louie sent had barely covered the board.

As she listened to Clara’s baseless charges, Molly’s anger grew until she could stand it no longer. Her anger erupted in a torrent of abuse that left Clara white with shock. Molly ended breathlessly, “You know what I should really do? Put that louse in jail for trying to rape my child—and you for being a white slaver.” With that said, she took Sara by the hand and walked out, slamming the front door so hard the oval glass broke and shattered into little pieces…

That night Molly and Sara slept together in the best room in the best hotel in Brussels. Sara’s joy in cuddling next to her mother was immense. She was almost afraid to fall asleep for fear that when she woke up her mother would not be there…that all this had been a dream.

When morning came and Sara saw Molly sleeping alongside her, she felt more secure. She was so proud of the way Molly had lashed out at Mrs. Bromberg. Her mother was her protector. No one would ever abuse or hurt her again…

When Molly woke up she kissed Sara and held her close. “Well, what would you like to do today?”

“I’d like for us to be together, but I have to go to school.”

“Not today. Besides, you’re changing schools…you’re not going to be living in that neighborhood again.”

“Oh, mama, I love you so much—”

“And I love you…Now, what shall we do?”

“Anything.” Sara smiled with overwhelming joy.

“All right, first we’ll have breakfast sent to the room, then we’ll go shopping. I want to buy some new clothes for you.”

“Mama?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Do you have enough money for all this?”

“A child shouldn’t have to worry about money. That’s for a mother to do.”

“But you said that things were very bad for Louie…”

“I know, but it got better. Louie gave me plenty of money when I left him.” If it were only true…But Sara was going to have new clothes; she’d outgrown the ones Molly had sent from Monte Carlo. Of course they couldn’t stay here, but Sara needed a treat. And if she lived frugally, the
francs
Louie had given her would tide her over until she got a job—which she knew she would have no trouble getting. Forget it. Today she and Sara were going to enjoy.

That evening as they sat having a fine dinner, Molly noticed Sara’s eyes were not happy, in spite of the fixed smile on her lips. “You’re happy, darling, huh?”

“Oh, yes, mama,” Sara responded quickly.

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not, mama, I’m so happy.”

“I mean, inside…down deep. You can tell me.”

Sara took a sip of water. She knew something was out of focus. She had paid no attention when Molly had said, “when I left him,” but suddenly the words came back to her. “Mama…”

“Yes.”

“Do you and Louie still love each other?”

Molly suddenly felt shaky but she pursed her lips and answered, “What a question! Of course we do. Why should you ask something so foolish?”

“I don’t know…I guess it’s because I thought we were finally going to be a family.”

“We are.”