Family Secrets (12 page)

“I do.”

“And that you’d feel free to come to me if you were unsure about anything, or if you wanted a little friendly advice.”

“Oh, I would,” Melissa said. “I would.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you want to scrub my back?” Melissa asked cheerfully.

“No, I do not. I have things of my own to do.” Lavinia turned and left her sister’s room. Darn her! Sneak! Actress! But what could she do? She would think of something. She never gave up when she had her mind set on something. But for the moment she was so happy at the thought of working with Papa in his office that the problem of Melissa’s mystery boyfriend faded into the background. Let her stew in her own juice.

There was something in Lavinia that made her want to protect Melissa from the others, just as she protected all the others when it was necessary, as she always protested that there was nothing wrong with Hazel, that Hazel was not stupid, that Hazel had flashes of brilliance which the others just happened to overlook. She would never dream of telling Papa or Mama of her suspicions about Melissa. To tell Papa and incur his wrath would be worse than anything bad that Melissa could bring on herself. Maybe the boy was a perfectly nice boy and Melissa was just biding her time, hiding him so the others wouldn’t rush her. It wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions. Patience … and no one had more of that than Lavinia did.

THIRTEEN

The New Year’s Eve Revel at the Jewish Center was one of the few occasions that allowed all the generations to mix: the pillars of the community and the young folks. Also the sexes: the men who attended the Beefsteak, Smoker, and Movies evenings, and their wives, who usually stayed home. The serious-minded, timid, and religious, who attended the lectures on such subjects as “Whither Jerusalem?” appeared, and the frivolous, the ones with fragile health, and the jolly jokesters, who never attended those lectures, showed up at the New Year’s Eve Revel. Prohibition didn’t bother any of them very much; they were all proud that they could have a good time without liquor.

There were funny hats and noisemakers for all, and lots of good food. Creamed chicken (none of them were kosher; they were proud to be Conservative Jews, not Orthodox, which was more fitting for these modern times in this new land) and cold roast beef, stuffed derma, fluffy noodle pudding, little meatballs swimming in tomato sauce, mixed green salad with tomatoes in it, fruit salad with sweet pink dressing, cold cuts and rye bread to make big sandwiches (ham, of course, was missing; there was something disgusting about ham), white bread, Bialy rolls, good sweet butter, bagels, cream cheese, chopped liver, lox and Nova Scotia, olives and pickles, celery strips and carrot curls, macaroons and schnecken, butter cookies, brownies with nuts in them, lemon roll, white cake with chocolate filling, chocolate cake with white filling, and all the sweet punch you could drink.

Adam Saffron had a big table for his family. There was Lucy, risen from her sickbed and smiling, in a beautiful black beaded gown; Lavinia, whose date was her younger brother Andrew; Melissa, who had disdained to accept a date although five young men had asked her; Basil, who had been forced to escort a young cousin, Hermine (fat, shy, unfortunate cousin Hermine, who thought sixteen-year-old Basil was a sophisticated man of the world and who worshiped him); Hazel and Rosemary, both without dates because they were too young. Already Hazel and Rosemary had been grouped together as if they were the same age, although Hazel was eighteen now and Rosemary fifteen.

Adam was proud and happy to be seen with his family around him. The girls all had new dresses, the boys had new suits. His friends from the Jewish Center came up to greet him, paying him court, for he was a respected man in the community. Men introduced him to their wives, and he introduced them to his. He presented his children. They were polite, well-groomed, attractive children, not all of them exactly beauties, but good enough to show off. When the well-wishers began to trickle off, Adam became restless, and then he took Lucy by the arm and they began to make a tour of the room, greeting old friends who had not greeted them, stretching their legs so to speak. Just taking a little walk.

“How do, how do,” bobbing the head ever so slightly. Speaking only English. Dignified.

At the table Melissa was miserable. She missed Scott. It was New Year’s Eve, and they should be together because they were in love, but he was working, giving a performance, and she couldn’t be with him anyway because he was forbidden, a shagetz. How she loved him, and how she wished he were here! They could hold hands under the table, and at midnight when everyone kissed everyone else, maybe he could give her their first kiss.

She had been seeing him twice, sometimes three times a week, but he hadn’t kissed her because he had promised to treat her with perfect respect. He thought that was funny. He laughed at her, and said he had never gone with a girl he hadn’t been allowed to kiss, but Melissa was afraid. She knew that if you kissed a boy you sometimes couldn’t stop, and so it was better to wait until you became engaged. If he was here tonight she would kiss him! Yes, she would. Right in front of everybody. Maybe she was being a prude to stick to the old rules, maybe she should let him kiss her when they were on a date. How much could he do, kissing her goodnight in the shadows outside the subway? Just a kiss … but how she had dreamed of it, how it would feel to kiss Scott. He was so beautiful. She sat there, toying with her punch, and she couldn’t eat a thing. She felt like crying. New Year’s Eve was a horrible holiday. People should be with the people they loved on New Year’s Eve. Oh, she didn’t mean not with family, because she loved her family, but a girl should be with the boy she loved and then they could all be together, she and the boy she loved and family and all. It wasn’t fair.

Andrew and Lavinia were scouting the food-laden table.

“I detest stuffed derma,” Lavinia said. “Do you know what they make the outside of? Intestines!”

Andrew put the piece of stuffed derma he had been about to take back on the platter. “How awful,” he said. “Why did you tell me that? Now I’ll never be able to eat it again.”

“Just as well,” Lavinia said. “It’s lower class anyway.”

“I have this theory about food,” Andrew said. “When you’re eating it, it’s food, but the minute you put your fork down it’s garbage.”

Lavinia laughed. “Eat the creamed chicken,” she said. “It’s good, I tasted it. But I wish they wouldn’t put pimentos in it.”

“Why?”

“They’re goyish.”

“
Pimentos
?”

“We used to have them at college in the creamed chicken. All the food at college was goyish.”

“Well, that doesn’t bother me,” Andrew said cheerfully, and helped himself to a big spoonful of the creamed chicken, pimentos and all.

“Why didn’t you bring a date tonight?” she asked him.

“I didn’t feel like it.”

“You’re seventeen years old—you could go out with a nice girl. You shouldn’t be shy.”

“Shy?” Andrew said. “Me, shy? Are you kidding? I just don’t like any of the girls around here as well as you.”

“Me?”

“You’re the most
upper
class.”

“Oh, Andrew!” They both laughed. “You always liked to tease me.”

“Well, I do think you’re pretty swell. And I have good taste.”

“Thank you.”

“Just look around at these girls,” he said. “I don’t see anybody worth asking out, do you?”

“Oh, some of them aren’t so bad.”

“You and Melissa are the best-looking girls in the room.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you if you insist,” Lavinia said, smiling and blushing a little. She didn’t think she was pretty at all, but she was flattered that her brother thought so. Younger brothers could be so critical, and Andrew the most of all. Nothing was good enough for him. He didn’t like the rug, he didn’t like the color of the living room walls, he hated the lamp on the side table, he thought Rosemary’s new dress was too long and had too many bows on it, he didn’t like the way Hazel wore her hair, he wanted Melissa in green to match her eyes, he wanted Papa to get a bigger car, he wanted a car of his own, he wanted this, he wanted that. Lavinia was the only one he seemed to approve of.

“Why did Papa make Basil take Hermine out tonight?” he asked her.

“He thought it would be nice if they got to know each other. Basil is so shy, and Hermine is sweet.”

“Well, I think she’s dreadful-looking,” Andrew said.

“You would.”

“Basil does too. Just watch him. He won’t give her a tumble.”

“He doesn’t have to be rude,” Lavinia said. “That’s the trouble with both of you, you won’t give any nice girl a chance.”

“When the time comes,” Andrew said, “Basil and I will both pick our own girls. Nobody is going to change that.”

“Nobody’s trying to!” Lavinia said sharply.

He didn’t answer. Andrew simply didn’t bother to answer if you tried to get into an argument with him. He thought he was right and that was that. Lavinia had some hope for what Andrew would pick, but she couldn’t imagine what Basil would like. He was still so young, and so self-conscious. Look at the way he was treating his cousin Hermine. He wouldn’t even talk to her. He was actually dancing with other girls and letting her sit there. He hadn’t asked her to dance all evening! That was unpardonably rude. Lavinia strode over to the family table and put her filled plate down at her place, then she went over to Basil.

“Are you having a good time, Basil?” she asked.

“Sure,” Basil said, unconvincingly.

“And you, Hermine?”

Hermine’s heavy-featured face crumpled. She really should do something about those eyebrows, Lavinia thought, but except for being a little too heavy, which was just baby fat, she was a very nice-looking girl. “When can we go home?” Hermine asked. She looked as if she was about to cry.

“Oh, you can’t go home until after we bring in the New Year,” Lavinia said cheerfully. She took hold of Basil’s arm and gave it a pinch. He winced and glared at her. “Why don’t you two dance?” she said. “Go on, don’t just sit here like old folks.”

“I’m very tired,” Basil said.

“Shame on you,” Lavinia gave his arm a tug. “Go dance with Hermine.”

Basil rose dutifully and, scarcely glancing at Hermine, walked out to the dance floor as if it was to his execution. Hermine rushed after him. The hired band was playing a waltz.

“Oh, I love a waltz!” Hermine said. “My father sent me to dancing class and we learned how to waltz, so that’s what I do the best.”

Basil didn’t answer. He held her at arm’s length and they waltzed.

“You waltz very well,” Hermine said.

“Why don’t you just dance?” Basil said.

Hermine burst into tears.

Basil was so embarrassed by this public display in the middle of the dance floor that he ran off and disappeared into the men’s room. Lavinia couldn’t possibly rout him out there, and he was safe from that fat pig.

He looked into the mirror and combed his hair with the pocket comb he always carried. He was growing up to be a handsome boy, with straight dark hair and a smooth oval face. He was shaving every day now, and his dark beard (the bane of his existence the way it grew back so fast!) and dark skin made him look almost Greek. He was a head taller than Papa already. He knew girls liked him, and he had no intention of being stuck, even for an evening, with any girl he didn’t like. All his life Basil had felt like the sixth finger. He was sorry for himself. He could feel the partiality Papa showed to Andrew—no, that
everyone
showed to Andrew. Andrew complained and Andrew got. Andrew asked and Andrew got. Andrew had but to speak and the world was his. But who listened to Basil? He never even bothered to ask because he was so convinced no one would listen to him. The words never came out right. All right, he had as much money as he could want; Papa was very generous. His marks at school were adequate, but Andrew wasn’t at the top of his class either. But Andrew had talents. He painted and sketched, and sculpted in clay. Andrew was always making drawings of his sisters and their parents and giving them the pictures for presents, and everyone was always thrilled. He, Basil, had no such talents. He played the piano fairly well, but Rosemary was much better. He didn’t bother much with sports because sports weren’t respected in that family; intellectual achievements were.

As Basil preened into the mirror he knew one thing. He had a talent to make girls chase him. So his family didn’t think the sun rose and fell on him the way they did on Andrew. So what? Girls thought he was wonderful. Every person had his talents, and his talents were girls.
I will never marry
, Basil thought.
I will grow up and have a mistress
!

The thought delighted him and he began to feel cheerful again. All right, he would go outside and dance with that impossible Hermine if it made them feel better. He could be charitable.

But when Basil emerged from the men’s room he discovered that Hermine’s parents had taken her home because she wouldn’t stop crying, and everyone was mad at him. Mad at him again, as usual. First they wanted him to spend his entire New Year’s Eve being nice to an impossible, fat, funny-looking little girl, who was his cousin on top of that, so there was no possibility of even thinking of trying to kiss her had she been beautiful instead of that little pig, and now they were all acting as if he was a villain.

“You are so rude!” Lavinia said.

“Really, Basil,” Rosemary said, “Hermine is a friend of mine. You could have tried to be nice to her. You were horrible.”

“Oh, poor Basil, for goodness sakes!” Melissa said to the others. “Let him alone. He has a right to pick his own girlfriends. Hermine was much too young for him.”

“One year!” Lavinia said.

“Gee, Basil, you really destroyed that poor girl,” Andrew said sweetly.

Basil didn’t know what to say to restore his ruptured reputation so he turned away from them and went over to a table where twenty-year-old Rachel Fenster was sitting. She was beautiful and slim, and she was four whole years older than he was. He asked her courteously to dance, and to his delight she accepted. That would serve them right.