Portraits (58 page)

“Henry doesn’t do that, and I
do
have to consider him…He’s my husband.”

“That’s true, he’s your husband. But he’s also not the most…ambitious man in the world, Doris, so you’re going to have to look out for yourself too.”

“He does the best he can, mama.”

“So the best he can do, a man with a family, is to live with his mother?”

“Look, mama, the little money we had is almost gone. What with his illness and my pregnancy it’s—”

“Well, since you have so little left, why don’t you just come and stay with me? We can give you more space and more privacy. Isn’t it nicer for a daughter to be living with her parents? While you were pregnant I could understand the necessity of staying in the city while Henry was sick, but now it’s different. You don’t have a nurse to help take care of the baby, like Rachel did. Her
mazel
you didn’t have, much as papa and I hoped…well anyway, it’s still your home and while you’re with us Henry can save. In fact, it would give him a chance to get on his feet financially. Look at the money you’d be saving. No food bills, no rent…It could really be a blessing for you, Doris.”

What mama said made a lot of sense, Doris had to admit, and she seemed so eager to help. It was as though she were trying to make up for having neglected them during Henry’s illness, and it really touched her. But still…“You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much for you?”

“Doris, what are parents for? You know how much papa loves babies. I don’t want to influence you, but a daughter goes to
her
family.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am, but you do understand, mama, I’ll have to talk with Henry.”

“Of course.”

“You’re really a very good woman, mama. I’m—”

“Don’t talk foolish.”

Sara left, confident that Doris would be coming home. And if Henry continued to be as successful as he was, she would be home for a very long time.

That evening Doris talked to Henry about the advantages of living with her family for a little while.

At first he wouldn’t hear of it. He hated the idea of living off the Sanders’ charity. But the accident had taken care of the little nest egg he’d so carefully guarded, hoping it would be a down payment on a house. And although his mother would gladly have them live with her, her small home was already overcrowded. He was touched by Doris’ happiness over reconciliation with her mother, but also knew it would be short-lived. Well, so be it. By the time Sara was on the warpath again, he was determined to have saved enough money to get their own place. So with many misgivings, he acquiesced…

After Doris’ ten days of confinement, she was sitting next to Henry, looking down at their lovely baby, as they crossed the Bay on their way to Oakland.

Henry parked their Reo in front of the Sanders’ and helped Doris out of the car as Sara came out to greet them.

“Welcome home, Doris…and Henry.”

Doris felt she was really coming home, where she could love and be loved as never before. After all, this time she had her beautiful Michele and her adoring Henry…

For a while, Sara coped well enough with all the clutter and fuss of having a new baby in the house. But day by day, month by month, things began to change. Little things that build to large troubles…

Henry complained that he spent so few evenings with his wife. Doris tried to explain that mama had so few friends and so little to occupy her that she enjoyed getting out once in a while and going to the movies.

Sara began to complain about the bathroom always being so messy, that she cooked and cleaned all day long. Her nerves became so frayed that she took to locking herself in the bedroom nearly every time the baby cried.

Doris felt terribly guilty that this was all so hard on her mother. When Sara would come out of hiding, in contrition, Doris would say, “Mama, I’m really so sorry, but I just don’t know what to do…”

And at such moments Sara would look at Doris, remember her former loneliness and consider that perhaps she wasn’t trying hard enough. Michele was just a baby, after all, and the two o’clock morning feedings would eventually have to stop. Sara would compose herself and life would go on peacefully for a day or two, but then revert to the tensions of before…Nothing Doris did was right. The sterilizer was in the way. Couldn’t Doris do the washing later? Couldn’t she bathe the baby earlier?

“It was a mistake from the beginning,” Sara blurted out one day. Doris looked at her mother’s face and realized she should have known better. Doris knew she had meant well, that she had really tried…but mama was mama…

The breaking point had come. That night, when Doris and Henry had gone to their room, Doris said, “This has been a bad mistake. I’m sorry, it’s my fault for talking you into it, but please, Henry, can’t we get a place of our own? You’re a doctor, you ought to be able to make enough at least for that—”

Henry lay looking at his wife, feeling as though he’d been slapped in the face. “I’m sorry. I guess your mistake was in not marrying someone like Jim Ross.”

Doris closed her eyes and shook her head. Oh, God, she was turning into a shrew like mama. Poor Henry, how damned unkind of her…how
unfair
. Sitting calmly on the bed she took hold of his hand. “Please forgive me, Henry. That was cruel. I’m making excuses for myself, but I’ve been under a lot of pressure. I’m tired and my nerves are shot. I know you’re doing the best you can. Please forgive me, dear. I love you. You’re the only one…who really loves me.”

“Your mother’s enough to make anyone crazy. I’m going to look for a flat first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, Henry, thank you, I don’t care what it is or where, just as long as it’s
ours
.”

Henry called at eleven the next morning and was grateful that Doris answered the phone. He couldn’t have spoken a word to Sara this morning.

“Honey, I found a two-bedroom flat in the Marina.”

“How much is the rent?”

“Seventy dollars a month—”

“Can we afford it?”

“We’ll manage. Can you meet me? I’d like you to see if before I sign the lease.”

“Take it, darling.”

“Suppose you don’t like it?”

“I’ll love it. When can we move in?”

“Anytime, tomorrow.”

“Sign the lease. And Henry, I love you.” …

At lunch, Doris sat silently at the table, watching mama eat her tomato and drink her tea. She didn’t feel up to the challenge of breaking the news to her mother, but it had to be done.

She said quietly, “Mama, that was Henry on the phone.”

“So?”

“He found a flat.”

Sara stopped chewing. “He found a flat? Where, in the Mission? How’s he going to get the money to pay the rent?”

“We have it,” Doris said, fidgeting with her napkin.

“You have the money?”

“Enough…”

“And you told me that day in the hospital you had to go live with Henry’s mother because you were so destitute?”

“Mama, you twist things…I said most of what we had was used up by the accident and my pregnancy. Look, mama, I don’t want to get into a fight over this.
Please.
It’s been too much for you with us living here. You cook and clean, and nothing I do suits you…I know you meant well, but it just hasn’t worked out. Besides,
I want a home of my own
.” Doris’ voice had risen and she was shocked to hear her vehemence. This was the first time she’d ever spoken to mama like this.

“Well, that’s the kind of gratitude I should have expected from you and your so-called husband. I took you in when you didn’t have a nickel to pay for the streetcar, fed you, clothed you…it was all for—”

“What do you
want
from me? Never mind, I’ll pay you back for all your goodness—”

Sara got up and slapped Doris across the mouth. “Listen to me, young lady, just who do you think you are? I gave birth to you and don’t you forget it. I had labor pains just like you. Now I want you out of my house today, do you hear? And we won’t impose our terrible hospitality on you anymore…you won’t get a quarter from us—”

Doris ran out of the room, up the stairs and locked herself in her room. She threw herself across the bed, and cried. Mama could be so damned cruel…Henry was right, she was mad, but not in the way he thought. She saw her mother for what she had become, and that’s what counted. No more making excuses for her…I’ve got to get away, got to get away, she kept repeating to herself.

When Henry returned that evening Doris was packed and waiting for him. He took the things and put them in the car and then waited for Doris. He couldn’t go back into that house and look at Sara.

With the baby in her arms, Doris knocked on her mother’s door.

“Come in…”

“I’m going now, mama. I know you tried, really I do. I also know you meant well, and—”

“Please spare me the farewell speech.”

“I’ll call—”

“Don’t bother, you don’t need me. You have a husband who can take care of you.”

Doris turned and shut the door.

Lillian was downstairs, waiting in the hall. “Doris, I’ll miss you…”

“I know, Lillian—”

“Do you? I’m the only one left—”

They both started to cry then, because there was nothing else to say. Lillian had said it all.

“When we get settled, you’ll come and see us, Lillian.”

“If she lets me…”

Another kiss and Doris closed the front door behind her…

That night they stayed with Henry’s mother, and the next day the furniture came out of storage and was delivered to the flat on Scott Street in the Marina. Doris felt she was home at last. Not free, but home.

When Jacob came back from his trip Sara filled him in on his daughter’s sudden departure.

“Do I understand that they had money?”

“Well, I guess he must have. When Doris decided she didn’t need as much help with the baby she told me Henry had rented a flat. And he didn’t even say good-by or go to hell. Imagine, after all I…we…did. Slaved, never left the house…I’m sorry to say it, but they used us, Jacob, our own flesh and blood…”

Lillian sat unnoticed during all this, wishing she had the nerve to speak out. But she kept still. All mama had to do was give her one of those special looks…

“Well, you’ll see if I give them a penny from now on,” Jacob said. “We sure got ourselves a couple of wonderful sons-in-law. And as for our daughters—well, the less said…”

Oh, how Lillian would have loved to tell papa everything. And there was a lot she could tell, not only about what mama had told him about Doris, but about the times mama took her to the Century Theater on Telegraph Avenue and left her there for a few hours. A few hours? She sat through the same movie twice. The first time she had become so worried that something had happened to mama that she walked out into the lobby and looked out through the glass doors. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t. Mama was standing on the street with a man. She knew who he was; she recognized him from the bank. Lillian felt sick when she saw him kiss and hold mama for a minute before he turned and left. Lillian had run back to her seat as fast as she could, and soon mama was tapping her on the shoulder.

They went to the Pig and Whistle and mama had seemed happy as she said, “Lillian darling, I don’t want you to tell papa I left you alone in the movies this evening. Will you remember that?”

“Yes, mama,” she answered, but she couldn’t look at her mother. She had loved her better than anyone in the world, even Doris, until that night. And then there were the phone calls that used to come almost every night when papa was away. Mama would say, “Lillian, go to your room and study.” She went to her room, but she didn’t study. She listened to mama laughing and whispering. Lillian caught a word here and there. All during that time mama was…was nice, sweet. It had all happened a little while after Doris got married. Then one night she heard mama crying when she was on the phone. She’d stood at the top of the stairs in the shadows and listened to mama say, “I can’t go on like this anymore. You’re becoming more important than I intended. I just wanted a friend…No, I can’t do what you want. It’s all over. The guilt is too much. I hate sneaking around like this and if your wife or Jacob found out—No, I
can’t
.”

Lillian had shut the door then and cried for a very long time.

And so she could not have told papa that mama had also cried…

Sara had not been unfaithful to Jacob physically, but her guilt was no less than if she had. She’d been so awfully lonely, and with Doris getting married a door seemed to have slammed in her life. Oh yes, she’d wanted
someone
to look at her too and see that there was still a woman…only thirty-nine, after all…but it had terrified her all the time it had buoyed her, made her feel for a little while like a woman again…But that was all she’d wanted, all she’d dared, and he had not understood…No matter what she did, it just didn’t seem to turn out right…

And now with Doris gone, the awful depression and loneliness came over her again. She’d said some harsh and unfair things to Doris, she knew. Doris had really been the only child who seemed to try to understand her. But Doris had also deserted her in the end, which made her anger, and her depression, all the greater…

A
FTER DORIS MOVED INTO
her flat it took a great deal to try and forgive what had happened, but she
had
gotten out. Don’t be vindictive, she told herself. She called mama.

At first Sara all but hung up, but Doris persisted and Sara, who’d been dying for the call, finally relented.

Doris had mama and Lillian to dinner. She wished papa had been home. But he was in Wyoming…

Sara said nothing about the flat, which was to be expected, but her daughter’s happiness in her home had started the wheels in motion. That evening when Sara left to go home, she knew a change was going to take place in her life. Oh, yes, without question, tonight she had come to a great decision.

Monday morning the house in Oakland went on the market, without Jacob’s knowledge. Within a month she had a buyer. It made no difference how little she’d gotten; she was ready to move to San Francisco and she now had the money to do it. Jacob had had his way long enough. Turn the page, end the chapter, start a fresh new one…