The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (21 page)

“Zeyda
, one minute.”

“You’d better go with him, Henry.”

“Hey,” Arnie shouted, “can you use a new casting director, Kravitz?”

“Haven’t you any appreciation for the finer things?”

“Hoo-haw.”

Duddy bit his hand. The sweat rolled down his forehead.

“This is meant to be serious, Arnie. Oh, he’s such a fool.”

“There I am!”

“Look at Sammy, stuffing his big fat face as usual.”

“There I am
again!”

“What took you so long, Henry?”

“Did I miss anything?”

“Aw. Where’s the
zeyda?”

“He’s sitting outside in the car. Hey, was that me?”

“I’d like to see this part again later, please.”

“Second the motion.”

“You notice Lou sent only a Greetings Telegram? You get a special rate.”

“He’s had a bad year, that’s all. Lay off, Molly.”

“A bad year! He comes from your side of the family, you mean.”

“Try it some time.”

“Murray got the player wholesale through his brother-in-law.”

“Dave’s check is only for twenty-five bucks. Do you know how much business he gets out of Cohen every year?”

“If it had been Lou you would have said he had a bad year. Admit it.”

“Hey, Bernie,” Arnie yelled, “how many of those checks bounced? You can tell us.”

“I was grateful for all of them,” Bernie said, “large or small. It’s the thought that counts with me.”

“Isn’t he sweet?”

“Sure,” Arnie said, “but he could have told me that before.”

“Five’ll get you ten that right now he’s asking Bernie to remind his father that the temple building campaign is lagging behind schedule.”

Rabbi Goldstone coughed loudly.

From there the movie went on to record the merrymaking and odd touching interlude at the dinner and dance. Relatives and friends saw themselves eating, drinking, and dancing. Uncles and aunts at the tables waved at the camera, the kids made funny faces, and the old people sat stonily. Cuckoo Kaplan did a soft-shoe dance on the head table. As the camera closed in on the dancers Henry pretended to be seducing Morrie Applebaum’s wife. Mr. Cohen had a word with the band leader and the first
kazatchka
was played. Timidly the old people joined hands and began to dance around in a circle. Mr. Cohen and some spirited others joined in the second one. Duddy noticed some intruders at the sandwich table. He did not know them by name or sight, but remembering, he recognized that they were F.F.H.S. boys and he smiled a little. The camera panned lovingly about fish and jugs and animals modeled out of ice. It closed in and swallowed the bursting trumpeter. Guests were picked up again, some reeling and others bad-tempered, waiting for taxis and husbands to come round with the car outside the temple.

And Mr. Cohen, sitting in the first row with his legs open like an inverted nutcracker to accommodate his sunken belly, thought, it’s worth it, every last cent or what’s money for, it’s cheap at any price to
have captured my family and friends and foolish rabbi. He reached for Gertie’s hand and thought, I’d better not kiss Bernie. It would embarrass him.

Nobody spoke. Duddy began to bite his fingernails and Yvette pulled his hand away and held it.

“A most edifying experience,” Rabbi Goldstone said. “A work of art.”

Everybody began to speak at once.

“Thank you very much indeed,” Mr. Friar said. “Unfortunately the best parts were left on the cutting room floor.”

“Play it again.”

“Yeah!”

W
HEN DUDDY CAME HOME HE FOUND OUT ABOUT LENNIE
.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Duddy asked.

Max could hardly speak. He paced up and down the kitchen. “His clothes are gone. Every drawer in the bedroom is empty. Here’s the note. Read it yourself.”

“That explains a lot,” Duddy said. “What do you think, Uncle Benjy?”

Uncle Benjy poured himself another drink. Standing behind his older brother, Max gestured urgently to tell Duddy not to question him; he’s looped.

“I can’t understand it,” Uncle Benjy said. “You’d think he would have got in touch with me whatever it was.”

“I’m
the father.”

“Jeez. Are we going to have a family quarrel at a time like this?” Uncle Benjy looked sharply at Duddy. “I haven’t seen you in a long time,” he said. “You’ve changed.”

“He’s in business for himself. An operator.”

“I heard.”

“You wait. He’ll burn his fingers.”

Duddy lit a cigarette off his butt. “How’s Auntie Ida?” he asked.

Max made more urgent gestures. He grimaced.

“She left for Florida this morning. I’m your uncle, you know. You shouldn’t hold a grudge. Bygones are bygones.”

“Sure thing.”

“O.K.” Uncle Benjy emptied his glass. “If that’s how you feel.”

“What’s between you?” Max asked. “How come I never know what goes on around here?”

Duddy sighed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Max said. “I’ll brain you.”

“Easy, Daddy. Easy. What’s the name of Lennie’s girl?”

“We phoned,” Uncle Benjy said. “She’s sick in bed. I spoke to the father.”

“Have you tried his friends?”

“Nobody knows from nothing.”

“I think you both ought to go to bed,” Duddy said. “We can’t do anything at this hour. I’ll get up early tomorrow and start seeing his friends. Somebody will know something.”

“Look who’s in charge,” Uncle Benjy said.

“Do you expect me to sleep at a time like this?”

“I sure do. Would you like me to drive you home, Uncle Benjy?”

“I’ll call a taxi. He’s right, Max. We ought to get some sleep.”

“It’s easy for you to talk. He’s my son but. His blood is my blood.”

“Daddy, for Christ’s sake!”

“Maybe I never had lots of money to give him. I don’t talk very fine either. But he’s my son and maybe he’s lying dead in a ditch right now.”

“Daddy. Easy, Daddy.” Duddy held his father close. “He’s been studying too hard, that’s all. I’m sure he’s all right.”

“I never tried to take him away from you, Max. I was only trying to help out.”

“I’ve got feelings. You’d be surprised.”

Uncle Benjy phoned for a taxi.

“Come on, Daddy. You get into bed and I’ll bring you some tea.”

“You think it’s easy to bring up two boys without a wife?”

“We’ll find him tomorrow,” Duddy said, pulling back the bedspread. “I’m sure.”

“Good night,” Uncle Benjy said. “Let’s keep in close touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Max said, “but you know me. When I lose my temper I lose my temper.”

Uncle Benjy nodded. Duddy touched his father’s head.

“Good night, Duddel.”

“I’ll call you as soon as there’s any news.”

Duddy made tea. But when he was ready to serve it his father had fallen asleep, so Duddy shut the bedroom door softly and sat down at the kitchen table. “At a time like this,” he said aloud, “just when everything is beginning to move. That’s what you call luck.”

After the screening of
Happy Bar-Mitzvah, Bernie!
Duddy had felt so marvelous that he had invited Mr. Friar and Yvette out. “We’ll go to Ruby Foo’s,” he said.

Some of the people who had been at the screening were already there. “There’s young Kravitz himself,” somebody said.

“That’s the director. He’s English. I’ll tell you something Gertie told me about him, but you must promise not to repeat it.”

Duddy waved.

“Congratulations, kid.”

“A fine job.”

Duddy couldn’t see Linda anywhere. She hadn’t even come up to him after the screening. The hell with her, he thought. He introduced Mr. Friar to people here and there. Yvette waited to one side.

“We’ve got a table for you now, sir.”

“A bottle of champagne,” Duddy said. “The best.”

He told Yvette that after the screening he had been offered enough
wedding and bar-mitzvah contracts to carry them through into January with an estimated gross of eight, maybe ten thousand dollars. Not only that, he added when Mr. Friar went to spend a penny, but he had had a long chat with Grossman, the owner of Camp Forest Land, and next summer Duddy was going to make a film there. He had offered Grossman such a cut-rate price that the poor bastard couldn’t afford to turn him down. That meant, Duddy said, that he would have an opportunity to see the camp from the inside. The information he’d gather about costs, prices, staff, and the handling of kids would be invaluable to him. He’d also get an address list of all the kids there so that they could be invited to the screening. Grossman was a crap artist. He didn’t suspect a thing. “What’s wrong?” Duddy asked. “You’re in a bad mood.” Yvette didn’t reply.

“Tonight of all nights. Jeez. Hey,
garçon
. More champagne.” Yvette laughed. “That’s my girl. Here’s Mr. Friar.” Duddy filled all the glasses.
“Prosit.”

“Here’s looking at you.”

“Hey, Mr. Friar, remember that first night? You know, after the lecture. You weren’t angry when you walked out of the bar. You just didn’t want to get stuck with the bill.”

“It seems to me I paid for the drinks that night.”

“And every other night. Aw, you’re a great guy. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Or you too, Yvette.”

“Thanks.”

“Order anything you want. The sky’s the limit. Jeez, does this stuff ever make you wanna piss. Excuse me a minute.”

“It’s the first door to the left, old chap.”

“Thanks, old chap.”

“Not the most delicate boy in the world, is he, Yvette?”

“Maybe not.”

“But not without his charms, I’m sure.”

“Let’s order. I’m starved.”

“He’ll never marry you.”

“Let’s not start on that again, please.”

“A Hebrew never marries outside his own race. I’d marry you. I’m mad for you.”

“He’s your friend. He admires you. And I’m supposed to be his girl.”

“He didn’t even introduce you to anyone here.”

“You don’t miss a thing,” Yvette said coldly.