Portraits (63 page)

Well, the time has come for you, Doris, to take the clue from all their mistakes and
reverse
them, figure out how you’re going to raise your children and what you owe them. Okay, Doris…you’ve thought it all out and you’re still sitting on the bench. Only remember one thing before you go home—love your kids, not till it hurts, but till it makes you feel good. They’re all you have or maybe ever will. But they don’t belong to you. They’re only on loan, so love and enjoy them while you can, then let go when the time comes. Don’t hold the strings, and never make them feel beholden to you. They don’t owe you anything…I’m going to be the best damned mother because I’m going to listen. No sermons. And I’m going to give them spiritual values so they’ll have something to lean on…

The day suddenly became cold. Doris got up quickly and tried to button her coat, but she couldn’t quite close it over her belly. She walked to Michele and hugged her. “You’ve been such a good girl, Michele.” Oh, God, I love you, she said silently.

Michele heard the sound of the ice cream man. “Could I have an ice cream, mommy?”

Doris blinked back the tears. “You know you beat me to it, I was just going to ask you.” …

It was seven in the morning. Doris woke Henry up, pushing him urgently. “Darling, I think I’m in labor—”

“My God, when did it start?”

“About five—”

“And you tell me now?”

“Don’t get excited, I have a feeling it won’t be for quite a while. No, please get dressed and I’ll get Michele. What do you feel like having for breakfast?”

“Breakfast? How can you think of that? Just get ready. I’ll take care of breakfast later.”

As they were about to leave, Doris said, “Henry, take Michele and I’ll be right down, okay?”

“What do you want to do, the kitchen floor?”

“I did that yesterday. Go ahead, dear—”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, taking Michele’s hand.

Doris went from room to room. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was home. Please God, let me come back with a healthy child…

When they arrived at Henry’s mother’s house Doris felt a lump in her throat at the thought of being parted from Michele. “Let me look at my little girl.”

“Mommy, do you have to go?”

“Would I leave you if I didn’t have to? We talked about this, remember?”

“I’ll miss you—”

“And I’ll miss you too, but it’s only for a little while. I’ll call you every day and you can call me too, honey.”

Michele nodded reluctantly, took her father’s hand and went up the stairs to her grandmother’s…

At eleven that morning, the contractions were coming closer together. She pressed the button to summon the nurse and asked her to call Henry.

Soon he was standing at the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. “Are you all right, darling?”

“Couldn’t be better. I just spoke to Michele—”

“You called?”

“Yes, I didn’t want her to feel…alone…Darling, please call my mother.”

He needed Sara like a hole in the head, but he picked up the phone and called. “Sara, Doris is in the hospital.”

In spite of her feelings about Doris’ pregnancy, she became anxious when she remembered her last delivery. “How is she?”

“Well, nothing much has happened yet.”

“When did you take her?”

“About nine.”

“Nine, and you just called? Why do you do this to me, Henry?”

“Sara,
please
, let’s not start that today.”

There was a long silence. “I’ll be there.”…She hung up and called the plant to tell Jacob.

“Doris is in the hospital, Jacob—”

“You go and I’ll meet you there.”

“I’m very nervous…”

“With the help of God she’ll be all right.” But he was as nervous as she was. For some reason, when Doris was sick or in any trouble it came crashing down on him like a hammer. He always remembered when Sara had given birth to Lillian how he’d taken care of Doris, hovered over her. He had felt so responsible…protective…needed. Today he felt the same way…

Jacob found Sara and Henry waiting.

“How are things, Henry?”

“Thank God, not like the last time. You can go in to see her for a minute, if you want.”

He walked down the hall eagerly but when he saw his child he couldn’t understand why he felt so uncomfortable inside himself. Had he, after all, been a bad father? God, he’d tried so hard when they were growing up to give them a good life—

“Papa, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am too, Doris. Is it very bad?”

“Pretty bad, but it’ll soon be over. Hold my hand.”

With tears in his eyes, he took her outstretched hand and held it. There was another contraction coming on, and Doris let out a scream that cut through him too. Why couldn’t he help this child now? A peculiar thought, but this it was…

Before he could say anything more the door opened and Gary Goldman walked in. “I think you’d better leave. I want to examine Doris.”

“I’ll be outside with your mother, Doris.” He blew his nose. Why was he feeling this way? He proceeded to pace the halls, along with Henry…

At five that afternoon the door to Doris’ room was opened and she was wheeled down the hall. The next forty minutes seemed an eternity.

At long last the doctor came out. “Well, Henry, you have a boy…nine pounds, two and a half ounces.”

Henry hugged him joyfully. “A boy! My God, I have a son—”

Jacob and Sara looked at each other, one with envy, and one with guilt.

“Thank God it’s over,” Jacob said, “and congratulations, Henry. I guess you’re a better man than I was.”

Sara’s anxiety abruptly turned to anger…he was saying that to remind her…

Henry answered, “Not ‘better.’ You had Doris.”…The next morning a happy Doris greeted her husband. “Well, one thing we can do is make beautiful children together. Henry, I’m so happy I could scream. I saw that beautiful little darling with ten fingers and ten toes…my father must have been thrilled.”

“For the first time since I’ve known him. I think he was actually humble.”

“Because you did something he couldn’t. You surely did…Would you mind if we called the baby Gary? I think he should be immortalized.”

“That’s beautiful, and it will please him.”

After Henry left, Doris lay thinking what a glorious feeling motherhood gave her. Thank God, she thought, some destinies are taken out of our hands. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here now, reveling in the gift that had just been given her. Thank you, God, for giving me a healthy baby. I’m going to try to earn the right to be called mother. Love and devotion and understanding are a child’s birthright. And I’m going to see to it that they have some spiritual belief, something to sustain them. I guess in a way I should thank mama and papa for making me so aware of what parents owe the lives they’re responsible for…She picked up the phone and called Michele.

“Darling, you have a baby brother.”

“I wish it was a sister—”

“Yes, but this way you’re still my one and only very special little girl.”

Michele considered this, and decided she liked it.

L
ILLIAN HAD GRADUATED FROM
high school in June, and there were feelings inside her that cried out for her to do something constructive with her life. But she also felt she never would. Mama wanted her to become a social butterfly, and that’s pretty much what she had become. She went along…

On Saturday afternoons she and her friends met at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel. It wasn’t a revival of the tea dancing. Rum and Coca Cola had replaced tea and tiny sandwiches, ladies’ hems were slightly lower, trousers had zippers, and couples rumbaed instead of dancing cheek-to-cheek. But the girls still sat at round tables and eagerly waited to be asked to dance. And now they smoked. It was not only acceptable for women to smoke in public, but almost a must in the new sophistication. To be caught without a cigarette was to be labeled a “square.” Although Lillian didn’t like cigarettes and would never have dared smoke in front of mama or papa, that was her one bit of rebellion.

This afternoon she sat watching her best friend, Amy Harris, dancing to “Begin the Beguine.”

When was her beguine going to begin? She was so tired of her life, and mama, and all the guilt she generated that she felt melancholy even now, right in the midst of all the excitement that was going on around her. Lillian knew she would never live up to mama’s expectations; she wasn’t the beautiful, winsome creature mama had tried so hard to make her.

What mama would have liked was to see herself reflected in Lillian. Pretty, gregarious, cultured—the kind of personality her mother saw in herself. Lillian found it all but impossible to find her own identity because mama practically lived inside her skin. She didn’t own a single dress she liked—if she liked it, mama didn’t. Mama screened the fellows she went out with. And papa never asked if the boy was nice, only who the boy’s father was and what he did.

Now they were trying to cram Stewart Gold down her throat. The Golds were an old established family of attorneys, and that pleased papa very much. He had even made it a point to look up their Dunn and Bradstreet rating. Lillian had as much strength as a jellyfish when it came to defying them, but she knew she would eventually have to take a stand on Stewart Gold. Marriage was something she was going to have to decide for herself. She shuddered at the prospect of telling them, knowing papa felt it was her responsibility to make up for the experiences they’d had with Rachel and Doris…

Lillian stopped twirling the straw in her coke and looked up when she realized that someone was standing by her chair.

“Hi. Feel like dancing?”

What she saw was a young man about six feet tall, with a handsome face, square chin, black eyes and thick dark hair to match. “Sure, why not?”

“You’re a good dancer,” he said after they’d been on the dance floor a few minutes.

At least the dancing lessons weren’t a total loss. Maybe mama was finally getting her money’s worth. “Thanks, so are you—”

When the music stopped, he took her back to her table and walked away without a word.

Amy had been watching. “My God, who was that?”

“I don’t know. Except for Clark Gable, everybody’s face looks the same here.”

“I always find out,” Amy said, applying a little extra lipstick.

“Really? Did you ever think of joining the FBI?”

“Oh, Lillian, you’re so backward in some things.”

“That’s an understatement. In everything—”

“I just meant you weren’t aggressive enough.”

“What did you want me to do? Seduce him on the floor?”

“I’ll ignore that. But holy cow, he’s really gorgeous.”

“So why don’t
you
go over and talk to him? He’s standing at the bar.”

“I thought you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed. So?”

“So why don’t
you
go over and talk to him.”

“And would I gain your respect plus a medal for aggressiveness?”

“You sure would.” Amy smiled. “Dare you…”

Lillian looked toward the bar. She began to stand up, but suddenly felt that it would be too brazen to approach him. She sat down again.

“For God’s sake, Lillian, do just one thing that’s a little unconventional, will you? Stop being so inhibited. Mama’s not going to spank you. Get out of your playpen. You’re a big girl now.”

Lillian got up quickly and walked across to the bar just as the music began. “What’s your name and would you like to dance?” She could hardly believe those words had come from her virginal mouth.

“My name is Jerry Gould and I’d love to…”

When they danced past the table where Amy sat, Lillian glanced at her and winked.

When the music stopped, Jerry Gould said, “Thanks for asking me to dance, and what’s your name?”

“Lillian Sanders, and it’s been my pleasure.”

“You’re a terrific girl, Lillian Sanders.”

“You must be new in town, because everyone knows that.” She was getting a smart mouth on her, like Doris…and for the same reason…? To cover her fear…?

“As a matter of fact, I am new in town. That’s probably why I just found out. Would you like to join my friends and me for dinner?”

“Who are your friends?”

“The two fellows standing over there at the bar.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Chinatown.”

“I don’t know. I’m with a friend…”

“Ask her to come along. Incidentally, this is going to have to be Dutch treat. I don’t have very much money.”

“That’s okay. Let’s talk to Amy.” She introduced them, then said, “Jerry wants us to join him and his friends for dinner.”

“What about Arlene’s party tonight?”

“I just came down with a very bad cold.”

I’ve created a monster, Amy thought. “Well, thanks a lot, Lillian, but I’m going to the party.”

“Have a good time…”

“I will. Listen, I have to powder my nose. Want to come?”

“Sure. Be right back, Jerry…”

On their way to the ladies room Amy said, “You sure grew up in a hurry. I didn’t want you to make a lifetime hobby of picking fellows up, I just wanted you to see how much fun it is to flirt.”

“Well, you’re right. It was fun.”

“But fun is fun, Lillian. You can’t go out with three guys you don’t know anything about.”

“You just said the wrong thing. You sounded like my mother. As you suggested, I’m getting out of my playpen.”

“Lillian, this is crazy, believe me—”

“I believe you, but I want to be crazy.”

“How will you explain it to your mother?”

“Did you ever hear of less than the truth?”

“But suppose she finds out?”

“She won’t unless you tell. Besides, I think it’s about time to break the tradition. In my case, honesty doesn’t pay.”

“You know the way she checks on you. Remember the night I slept over and your mother called me the next day to ask what you had for breakfast?”

“Do I remember? She asked me the same thing. Only she had to call you to verify that I had toast and coffee. She’s paranoid about being thin. When I left today she said, ‘Watch your diet.’ That was her good-by.”

“How are you going to manage?”

“I’ll call and say I’m going home with you.”