Other People's Lives (3 page)

“I can't see what that has to do with it. You're just creating phony issues.”

“With maids and country houses and sailboats and horses? Always they were treating him, the parents, the maids. And taking him places. I can't take
them.
Too many God-damn birthday parties. With magicians. Too many presents, I can't afford so much those God-damn birthday presents….Matthew!”

Matthew came bounding through the hallway to the kitchen. “Louise is here,” he said, and ran straight for Arthur's lap. “Do jellyfish have hearts?”

“How the hell do I know?” Maria said. “I think I never saw even a jellyfish. Hi, Louise, sit down. Did you wash your hands, Matthew?”

“There was a terrible epidemic of jellyfish on the Sound last summer,” Joan said. “We finally actually felt lucky that we're nowhere near the beach. Except for that constant pool-cleaning. Christ! I feel like Madame Curie, walking around with those idiot test tubes.”

“Country houses!” Maria said. “Swimming pools!”

“Well, we have to, Maria. Connecticut's for tax purposes.
Which
I don't understand. We might be bought out for the highway, though. Did I tell you?”

Arthur began whistling again and said, “She remembers when she built the Autobahn. By herself. Otherwise, highways don't interest her.”

“Tax purposes! Country houses! Sailboats! There is something wrong with this country, I'm completely serious.”

“Mmm, Matthew.” Arthur widened his eyes and rubbed his hands together. “Look what your mother made for dinner—the Führer Special. Sauerbraten, sauerkraut,
und
a little
kartoffel salat.
”

“
I used
to, Arthur. I am a very good cook, I'm completely serious. I made sometimes fantastic sauerbraten. For Dennis. I marinate it overnight, it's very simple. Also, dumplings.” She moved very quickly from the stove to the sink, pouring the spaghetti into the colander. The steam from the boiling water rose to her face, a burst from the cold-water faucet came down like a hurricane, strands of her hair flew out of her bun. “If you mix up the sauce with the salad, too bad, Matthew. No separate plates. Too many God-damn dishes. He is
so
particular, I don't know where he learned that from. Not me. It's not in my mentality. I don't need so much dishes and dishes, I hate them dirty.”

“I'll do the dishes,” Louise said uneasily. Her mother, cooking, had done this: locked the kitchen door, filling the small room entirely with her own cigarette smoke. If the food had had a smell of its own, there was no way of telling. She should not have had to do any cooking; naturally, her own mother had not had to; there were maids for such things: it was not in her mentality.

“Where's the Parmesan cheese?” Matthew asked, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses and sliding off Arthur's lap.

“
Exactly
what I mean,” Maria said. She banged down the cheese bottle with one hand, and with the other, wildly ladled out more meat sauce. “I make you a bet tonight there's no hot water!”

“We're eating out,” Joan said. “Jennifer has a recorder recital.”

“Toot-toot.” Arthur cupped his hands and blew through an imaginary recorder, making Matthew giggle uncontrollably.

“Eating out! Do you know when was the last time I ate out? All that money for the God-damn hospital. And the parking tickets. And for what reason? Anyway, soon it will all be over.”

“Maria!” Joan said.

“What? He can't know that his father will be dead? My father was also dead. Only we didn't even know it. We thought only he was missing. Nobody knew anything, it's not better. A rumor came from his register—regiment, a man from our town who heard it. That he was killed. So we knew finally it was true. Always rumors were true, it's not better.”

Arthur said, “I've been meaning to ask you, Louise. I hear you were in Birch Hill. What was it like there?”

“What do you mean—what was it like?” That she was crazy.

“I think I saw a movie about a place like that—a lot of birches, a lot of bushes. What went on there behind all the birches?”

Stiffly Louise said, “There was a convent next door.”

“See that, Maria?
That's
what you should have become—a nun. Who knows what you could have found between all those bushes?”

“Mushrooms,” Maria said, laughing giddily, oddly. “I am very good at finding mushrooms. I
always
used to, Arthur. I'm completely serious. I lived on them. In the war.”

The three of them were standing now, Joan at the door, and Arthur with his arm around Maria, who laughed even more, saying, “When I was
very
skinny.”

Joan said, “You know my Indian cooking lessons? I think I should have an Indian tablecloth for when I make the meals. The thing is—I don't want to
buy
it. Could you show me how to make one?”

“No problem,” Maria said, “it's very simple. Just bring me the material.”

“That's what she said when she was turning out lampshades. Exact same words.”

Maria began to laugh again.

“Arthur, we have to go. Excuse me, Maria, he's impossible. The jacket he's supposed to wear tonight is completely wrinkled. He forgot to bring it to the cleaner's. I don't know what we're going to do.”

“You only hang it up in the shower, it's very simple. Turn on very hot water and let it stand in the steam. The wrinkles are steamed out, no problem. I did it always. For Dennis.”

“Dennis,” Joan said, suddenly resuming her holy voice. “Tell him we love him, we
all
love him. Give him my love.”

Maria nodded; Matthew, his mouth red from spaghetti sauce, shrieked out “Toot-toot” and giggled; the door closed.

“They are very nice people, the Tepfers,” Maria said very slowly. “Joan cannot do one fucking thing, she is very lucky.”

Louise said, “Do you ever miss Russia? Do you think about it?”

“
Russia?
How can I miss it? I was there only once for one week. With the folk-dance troupe from my factory. Matthew! Take out the garbage! And I don't want to hear yet the television. We made steel parts, pieces, I don't know. I drove a giant something—a crane? It was very noisy. Also my family was terrible. Asking me always for money, especially my brothers. Families are shit. Then I was very skinny, but before even skinnier. Do you smell still the cat shit? Matthew! Cat shit is also garbage. I miss sometimes
mushrooms.
They're different in this country. You open them and if in a few minutes, seconds, they turn purple, then they're bad. It's how I could tell. Always.”

“Mrs. Zeitlin told me that you—”

“What did she tell you? She cannot forgive me that I married Dennis. She was in love with him. Why, I don't know. He was good for a dancer, but terrible for a husband. Terrible in bed and terrible for responsibilities.”

“She said you were a ballerina, that you gave up your career and left Russia because you fell in love with Dennis.”

“You see how she makes it up so glamorous so she can feel better? She would
feel
better maybe, I think, if she did something different. Or had a baby. She had once a baby, but it died. It's a disease only for Jewish people. Tay-Sachs. She could have probably another baby, but it might also die.”

“She wanted to be a dancer, she said.”

“That's because of Dennis. It's why she says
I
am a dancer. She's crazy, really. Not crazy,
I
don't know. Matthew!
Still
I'm calling you! Did you take out the garbage? Did you do your homework? Why am I hearing only TV?”

Matthew came running in on very light feet—lithe, they seemed suddenly, like dancers'. “Mommy, can I get a hamster?”

“A
hamster?
No dog and no hamster. It's enough that cat and the turtle. You
must
do your homework, Matthew, angel. Hamsters! It's what we did in the war—you know, for getting food. For saving it. You stuff it up in the cheeks, like hamster faces, we called it hamstering. I was
very
good at it. I got caught only one time, I was running. In the country. I don't know who shot. A farmer, maybe, I think there weren't soldiers there yet. Later, farmers were always very nice to me. When I was crossing to the West…Matthew! Out! Homework!
Please,
angel. It was then very easy because of haying season. Always I could sleep in the fields, they were very nice. I didn't like the forests. You know, people said always they were safer, but I didn't like them. A farmer pointed for me a small little I don't know—stream? brook? And I went across. There
were
soldiers near then, only not for that brook. Russians, I think. Maybe East Germans.”

“That's how you got away with Dennis?”

“Dennis? I never even heard then of Dennis. It's not anyway what people told you. I was the first woman Dennis was with. Before that, only men. Not many. I was working then in I don't know, dancing clubs? nightclubs? In West Berlin. To dance with the men. Dancing only. Not a prostitute. Sometimes. For food mostly. I didn't care so much about clothes. Sometimes, for exchange mostly, but, you know, I was tired of that. Fed up. I did always exchanges from when I was very little, better than my sister and brothers.
Much
better than my mother. You know how I spent my first twenty marks? Chocolate. I was very skinny then, but not so skinny as before. It was
terrible
chocolate.”

“And Dennis was on tour with his company when you met him?”

“He was very good to me, Dennis. Always. Except for later with responsibilities, then not so good. In Berlin then, he helped me for the abortion.
Not
his child. You know, nobody believed that. But he was very good. And I was tired, really tired. Fed up. With the war, with the peace, with Hitler, with not-Hitler. With Communism, with not-Communism. With East Germany, with West Germany. I thought probably America will be better. My
God!
I forgot again to wash up my underwear. And Matthew's shirts! What will he have tomorrow for school? Matthew! Do you have left your blue jersey? Look in your drawer. Now, baby, angel, did you hear me?”

“A
green
one, Mommy.”

“That's too small, I think. I don't remember. Does it fit you still? Did you try it?”

Matthew came into the kitchen holding up the green shirt. “Does Arthur know about jellyfish? If they have hearts? Can I call him?”

“He's not home now. It
is
small, Matthew—look! What else is in the drawer?”

“Then can I call him later?”

“Later you have to be in bed. Already it's later. Look in the drawer. Hurry up!”

Louise said, “Why does Arthur tease you about lampshades?”

“Oh,” Maria said, smiling, “you know—I was in Hitler Youth. In school. Also, after the war, in the factory I was in Communist Youth.” She stood up, indiscriminately banging around the dishes, pots, and pans. “Damn it, it's already rusty this pot and I think I only just bought it. Two years ago. Made in Japan. Also, I was first Protestant and then, after, when we went to my cousin in Bavaria, I was Catholic. My cousin was terrible, but I liked very much the country, especially the cows. Really he was terrible, Klaus. So old and so, I don't know, crankly? cranky? Only my sister and brothers were worse. Also my mother. They were shit, all of them. I'm completely serious. Families are shit.”

The day before, walking on Broadway, Louise had seen an older man walking slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. He reminded her of her father, but that was not possible. “My mother lives in London, my father lives in the Dominican Republic, and my sister lives in Sweden.”

“I don't know
where
is anyone in my family and I don't give a damn. They could be dead for what I care. My mother probably is. She was a stupid Romantic. To name
me
Maria!”

“My mother named me Louise for a Schubert song that she liked, and she named my sister Elisabeth for Elisabeth Schumann.”

“Schumann's wife? That one he got crazy over?”

“Elisabeth Schumann. She was a Viennese
lieder
singer.”

“Oh,” Maria said. “Vienna. I was never there. I didn't know any Jewish people till I came here. Oh my
God!
I forgot again that stupid hand cream. Damn it! My hands are cracking, also my face. I should go down now very fast and buy it.
If
there is a drugstore open. I should go down now. What do you think?”

On the morning of the Block Party, a Sunday, Louise was awakened very early. It was Maria banging around in the kitchen. Throughout the whole building, in the wintry darkness, only this one kitchen window had a light.

“They can have these pots and also these ones. Joan, I think, is making
cassoulet.
Why, I don't know, it's only beans mostly. It's only farmer's foods, peasant's foods—she thinks it's fancy, but what does she think farmers eat? It will give her diarrhea probably, she's not used to it, just like that
foul muddamas.
Also, I forgot who, is making
felafel,
they need a big ceramic bowl and I promised the forty-cup coffee pot. Electric—they'll have to put up wires in the street. What I have so many pots for, I don't know. I'll leave the door open, they can come in and take what they want, it's better than leaving the keys, probably they'll only lose them. What do you think?”

Still sleepy and in her bathrobe, Louise watched Maria reach up from an unsteady stepladder and grab recklessly at enormous pots and pans. A lid fell into the sink, just missing Matthew's thin blue nighttime water glass.

“
Damn
it!” Maria said. “I can't find that stupid coffee pot and I promised it definitely. Also, everything is absolutely filthy, I must first wash them now, it's not right, I think, to lend out dirty pots. They'll say anyway I'm hostile, I don't care, but it's not right…
Here
maybe is the coffee pot, the cord is coming. Oh, shit! A whole cockroach nest, babies only, because of the hot-water pipes probably, but I have now to spray the whole God-damn shelves and change the paper, and I have already my hand lotion on, it will stick to everything. Also, I should put out now the powder, it's only boric acid, very simple, but they don't get ammunized?—immunized?—to it, I'm completely serious.” She wiped her forehead with a dish towel, marking it with black grease, and said, “Absolutely I can't do it now myself. Maybe Matthew will do it, he likes to always, only I'm not sure now about the spray. It's bad for ecology maybe, he bothers me from school…Matthew! Get up, baby, angel. I have for you a special job. I
know
it's Sunday, Matthew, but if you hurry up quickly, you can watch still those stupid cartoons and I can make breakfast. Matthew!”