Shadows, page 10
He took the letters and went into the den to show them to Miriam. As he’d expected, she was at her desk. “Look at these,” he said. “Tell me what you think.”
She read them, then re-read them. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“As far as anyone knows my father had one friend if you can call him a friend. This guy Rudi Emmenthaler, who came to the funeral. I called him. He said my father never told him anything. Nothing about a girl. Nothing about a baby. So who is this friend who offers help? Don’t you think it’s got to be him?”
“I don’t know. Why would he lie?”
“That’s just what I asked myself. I have no clue.”
“Well, I guess it’s possible,” Miriam said. “Maybe this man, Rudi, helped them to meet, covered up for your father. Maybe your father would tell your mother he was going someplace with this guy, you know, or something like that.”
“You think? But why would he lie about it?”
“Could be embarrassed. Wouldn’t you be? Tell your friend’s son you were helping his father cheat on his mother?”
“Yeah, maybe you’ve got something there. That does make sense.” He put the letters back into the envelope. “And you know what? I can’t shake the feeling he knows more than he said.”
“Even if he does, there’s not much you can do about it.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could go and see him. Confront him with the actual diary. It might shake him up enough so if he was lying he might decide to tell me the truth.”
“Whatever that is.”
“Right,” he said. “Whatever that is.”
He began to leave when Miriam said, “Alex, wait a minute.” She turned in her chair to face him.
He stopped. She looked down at her hands then up again. She pressed her lips together and began to twist the silver bracelet on her wrist. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure how to tell you this.”
“I have a bit of a health problem.”
“What do you mean, health problem? Can you be a little more specific?”
“All right, if it’s specificity you want.” She took a deep breath. “I may have breast cancer.”
Alex stared at her, taking in what had just been said. He began to speak but something caught in his throat. He gulped air, and finally managed to say, “I’m sorry.” He immediately realized how woefully inadequate his response was. “I don’t mean that. No, of course, I’m sorry. When did you find out? How advanced is it?”
“I don’t know if it’s advanced. I’m not sure if I even have it. They’re doing a biopsy to find out.”
He pulled a chair over to her desk and sat down. “You’ve known about this for some time, haven’t you?”
She nodded.
“I don’t have to ask why you didn’t tell me. I understand. And I don’t blame you one bit.” He shook his head. “I’m such a putz. Here I am obsessing about the past and you’re confronting something much more important.”
Miriam said nothing, but her eyes filled.
“When are you having the biopsy?”
Her voice was barely a whisper now. “Monday.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Would you mind if I was there?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind. I’d be glad if you came. My Mom is coming, too.”
“What about Richard?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want him to know.”
“Why not? He’s your son. He deserves to know, doesn’t he?”
“You don’t understand. I wasn’t going to tell anybody. I was going to be the great heroine and deal with it by myself. It was only today I told my mother. And now I’m telling you. But Richard…no.” She put her hands over her eyes. “He doesn’t have to share in this. He has enough problems just trying to survive in New York.”
“Okay. I won’t argue with you.” He looked at her. She was holding herself, making an effort not to cry. He wanted so much to reach out and touch her but held back. “I don’t know what to say, Miriam. I wish I could do something to make all of this go away.”
“So do I,” she said.
Chapter 23
They had gone to bed without any more discussion of the biopsy. Miriam was on her side of the bed, Alex on his. It still surprised her that in the same bed where they’d often cuddled and held each other as well as made love, they now managed to sleep without ever touching. It probably helped that it was a king-sized bed.
Alex was asleep. She could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. She was not only awake but fully alert, eyes open, staring up into the darkness. She desperately wanted to sleep but her mind was as if it was on the Cyclone, the roller coaster she’d gone on with her friend Ellen when they were kids. They’d screamed as the car threw them upwards, sideways, and made their stomachs lurch when it dropped. Her memories came at her the same way, speeding upwards on one memory and then racing downward with another. She tried to shut them off by using various tricks she’d read about. One was to concentrate on her body beginning with the toes, then move up through each part: the instep, the shinbone, the knee, and so on. First one leg, then the other. The idea was that if you concentrated hard enough your mind would shut down sufficiently for you to fall asleep. She couldn’t make it past her thigh before her brain was off and running again.
Next, she went back to the old standby of counting sheep jumping over a fence. Forget that one. She tried different sleeping positions, first lying on her right side. A few minutes later she turned on the other side. She lay face down with her left arm up and her right under her. Then she switched arms. She felt her breasts and wondered whether she would still have them after this was all over. What would she look like?
Nothing stopped the flood of memories. Astounding memories. Scenes from childhood, friends, old schoolteachers, people she hadn’t seen or thought of in years. Other memories were so confusing she knew she must be dreaming because she found herself in caves, or climbing a mountain.
Then came a clear one. She was in the bookstore where she’d first met Alex. What was the name? She stared upwards trying to remember. The Strand. That was it. She’d seen him on the other side of the table where she’d been browsing. He looked up at that moment, their eyes met, and something happened. A rush of heat to her face. She never blushed so it surprised her. It was then she decided to pick him up.
She crossed over and stood next to him. He was holding a book, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. She could sense he was aware of her presence.
“I’ve never heard of that book,” she said.
“I’ve read it twice,” he said as if they were continuing a conversation. “It’s terrific.”
That was how it began. On their first official date, he brought her a copy for a present. She’d never told him her opinion of it. She’d never finished it.
The memory brought tears to her eyes. This made her berate herself. Stop being so sentimental. It was a long time ago. He’s not the same person and neither are you.
Before Alex there had been others. She’d lost her virginity at sixteen with a boy she’d met at the roller-skating rink she went to with Ellen. Shelley was older and quite smooth. She and Ellen were skating together when he caught up with her and asked if she wanted to skate one turn with him. He was fun and asked her out. He had a car and drove her to a make-out place in Canarsie. When it got hot he reached down and touched her. She let him. She and Ellen had talked about what it would be like and now was an opportunity to find out. When he suggested she take off her panties, she didn’t hesitate. He climbed on top of her, thrust a couple of times and groaned. Afterward she told Ellen all about it. She also wouldn’t be seeing Shelley again.
“Why not?” Ellen said.
“At first I thought he was cute. But when it was over he just zipped up and drove me home without saying another word. He was just so damned pleased with himself. Not a thought about me. I was another notch on his belt, another score. Just wait till he calls me again.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell him to get lost. Maybe hint that he wasn’t that good a lover. That should shake him up a bit, don’t you think?”
The sex got better and more enjoyable. There was one boy with whom she became really serious. She was in college then and they talked about marriage. He brought her home to meet his family. She could tell right away his mother wanted no part of her, a poor girl with a widowed mother. It wasn’t long before they broke up. He began to weep when he told her his mother wouldn’t allow it. Miriam was deeply hurt but still felt sorry for him. Every once in a while she would think about those days and wonder what her life would have been like with Jason.
She’d eventually fallen asleep but it had not been restful. The alarm woke her. Her eyes and her body ached when she got out of bed.
She showered, dressed, and went downstairs to find Alex waiting for her.
“Want some breakfast? I made coffee,” he said.
“They told me not to eat anything.”
“Of course, I forgot. Then let’s go.”
When they arrived at the hospital, her mother was already there, wearing her usual assortment of necklaces and bracelets, and fully made up. A surprise was that Henry was with her. He was wearing the same blazer and turtleneck he’d worn the night of the dinner. The men shook hands, the women kissed cheeks and they went inside.
Miriam went through the admitting process and was directed to the surgical floor. The others were told they could go to the waiting room where they would be notified when the procedure was over. She wondered if she’d done the right thing not telling Richard. But it was too late now.
A smiling young woman wearing green scrubs greeted her at the nurses’ desk. She took Miriam into a small room with two beds. Neither bed was occupied. She handed Miriam a hospital gown and told her she could change in the bathroom.
People came into the room and attached tubes to her. An anesthesiologist spoke to her. She didn’t quite register what he was saying. She did her best to smile and nod her head as if she understood everything. After some time she was taken out of the room, still on the same bed, and was wheeled along a corridor. She looked up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. She felt the rolling movement of the bed and with peripheral vision was aware of other people in the corridor. For some reason, it seemed as if she were dreaming again.
They took her into the operating room. Nurses in scrubs and masks looked down at her. She heard them telling her all was good and it would soon be over.
The next thing she knew was waking up in the recovery room. Her head felt heavy, and her eyes ached. She touched her breast and felt bandages. Her other breast was intact, thank God. Her eyes closed and she fell asleep again.
She woke up to see Dr. Bromley at her side.
He opened her gown, examined the bandages, and covered her. “It went well. I’ve already spoken to your family. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I will say I’m optimistic. We should have the results within a week. At that time I should be able to remove the stitches. In the meantime go home and rest.”
Sometime later her mother came in with Alex. Henry did not join them. She was glad of that and guessed her mother had something to do with it. When she felt strong enough, Alex left and her mother helped her get dressed.
“Would you like me to go home with you? I could make dinner for you and Alex.”
“I don’t think so, Mom. I doubt I’m going to be hungry. I’ll probably have some tea and toast.”
“I can handle that,” Alex said.
After they’d said their goodbyes, and were on their way home, Miriam dozed again, waking up when they stopped. In attempting to get out of the car she became dizzy and almost fell. Alex was able to catch her. He had his arms around her and held her close until she said, “I’m all right now.” When he let go of her she had a fleeting moment of regret. It had felt good.
Chapter 24
The next morning Miriam assured Alex that he could go to work, that she was perfectly capable of being by herself. “I won’t be doing anything but resting anyway,” she said.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Almost immediately, Rudi Emmenthaler was again in the forefront of his mind. He put his father’s diary along with the letters in an old attaché case and took it with him to the office. There was no proof, just a gut feeling he had that Rudi was holding something back. He knew the only way to find the answers was to see him in person. He put the case in one of the drawers of his desk and began to work. But in a short while he found he couldn’t function. His mind was still so preoccupied with Miriam as well as what he was going to say to Rudi and what Rudi might answer that he didn’t hear what anyone said to him. “What?” he found himself saying again and again. The papers he looked at were incomprehensible. When he was on the phone he would realize in the middle of a conversation that he had forgotten who he was talking to. There was no way he could wait until the end of the day to see Rudi.
Stuart Roth was in his private office with the door closed. Alex felt that he kept the door closed to give the impression he was hard at work. What he was usually doing was chatting up buyers and arranging lunch dates. Alex had to admit he was good at that. Those lunches often transformed into heavy duty orders.
He knocked on Roth’s door and went in. As expected, Roth was on the phone.
He held the phone with his right hand and showed the palm of his left to Alex while continuing his conversation: “So how does that sound? Tomorrow, one o’clock. Smith and Wollensky.” He listened to the other person responding, then said, “Hey, some red meat once in a while is good for you. Okay, then.” He put the phone back on its cradle. “They love those steaks when they don’t have to pay for them. What’s on your mind?”
“I have to go out.”
“So go out. Since when do you need my permission?”
“I wanted you to know because I’m not sure if I’ll be back.”
“Again? You just took a day off.” Roth leaned back in his chair. It was one of those high-backed leather chairs that swiveled and rocked. “What is it with you lately, Alex? You don’t seem to be your old self. It’s like you’re not here even when you’re here. Know what I mean?”
“I have a lot of things on my mind.”
“I understand. I guess your father’s death shook you up quite a bit. It’s something I personally went through myself, so I understand. But you got to get hold of yourself. We got that union thing going on. I know they’re talking to our guys. They’re hitting every non-union shop down here. I told you before, it’s up to you to head them off at the pass. Get on the case, man. Now if you have to go somewhere, go ahead. But come back and take care of business. If the union gets in we may all be out of a job. Understand what I mean? I don’t want anything unpleasant to happen.”
Alex did not answer. He understood quite well what Roth was getting at. But the threat passed through his nervous system without causing so much as a tremor. He didn’t give a shit about Roth or his job. What kind of a job was it anyway? Assistant to the master of bullshit? He should have left a long time ago. But that was another story. He couldn’t think about that now. He walked slowly out of the room closing the door carefully behind him, retrieved the attaché case, and left the office.
He took the subway to Brooklyn. He had bought a Hagstrom’s map, which showed all the streets in all the boroughs. With that, and questioning Ruthie who lived in Brooklyn, he had worked out how to get there. He got off at the Kings Highway station. There was a bus he could take that stopped not far from Rudi’s house.
The block Rudi lived on in Brooklyn could have been the one where Alex grew up in Valley Stream, except the houses on the Brooklyn street were attached, so there were twice as many. Now they would be called “townhouses.” Other than that, it was the same: neat, postage-stamp lawns, hedges trimmed into squares, chain link fencing.
He found the number he was looking for and went up a full flight of brick steps to the front door which was to his right, and a cement porch freshly painted dark maroon to his left. The front door had an oval top and was painted the same color as the cement. A screen door had to be pulled open to get at the doorbell. He held the attaché case in both hands and was suddenly assailed by doubts. Why was he here? Was he doing the right thing to bother these people? Did they deserve his raking over the past? Yes, he told himself. He had to find out. He pressed the doorbell and once again he heard the familiar chimes of his childhood. When he was growing up every house he’d ever been to had chimes, their sound producing a gaiety that must have been as artificial to those inside as it was to those outside.
The door was pulled back and a small woman was standing in front of him, young and old at the same time. Her skin was the color of weather-faded wood, which had the effect of emphasizing her painted lips. Her eyes were dark stones partially concealed behind oversized eyeglasses with a red frame perched on the end of her nose. A printed cloth was wrapped turban-style around her head. Her body seemed too small for the elegant outfit she wore as if she were a child playing grown-up. She did not say anything, but her expression had the passive hostility of someone waiting to hear the pitch of a door-to-door salesman.
“Yes? What is it?”
“I’m not selling anything,” he said.
“I’ve heard that before.” Her voice was the husky voice he had previously heard on the phone.
“No, really. I’m looking for Rudi Emmenthaler. Is this the right house?”
“It might be.” She looked him over with a myopic stare. “Who are you?”
