Boys & Girls Together (108 page)

“Wonderful, Father.”

Sid pointed. “Are those porpoises?”

“Seals, maybe.”

Sid hurried to the sea-lion pool. “Aren’t they the cutest things?” He gripped the railing. “You don’t think it’s wonderful?”

“If it pleases you, then it is, Father. I mean that.”

Sid lowered his body down, resting his chin on the railing. Like a small boy he watched the sea lions play. “I’ll tell ya,” he whispered.

Rudy crouched beside him.

“I’ll never see fifty again. Not fifty-five either.

“I’ve done a lot of terrible things in my life. I’m trying to set my house in order, Rudy. You remember Solomon’s?”

“Solomon’s?”

Sid closed his eyes. “The corned-beef place. I bought you corned beef once when you were little. We stuffed you, Esther and I. We made you eat yourself sick, you remember that?” He reached out for his son. “I have suffered for that lately, believe me, I have suffered what I call torture for some of the things I done.” He turned abruptly, straightened, started to walk again, stopping in front of the lions. “Big goddam cats,” Sid muttered. “Look.” He pointed to the signs about the animals’ names. “
Felts Leo
,
Veils Tigris
, lion and tiger. Same family, I bet, but a different cage. That’s like us, Rudy. Same family but we lived in different cages too long. Would you come home? After this thing? Yes?”

“No, Father.”

“Why? You don’t love me?”

“I do.”

“Then why?”

“It’s easier for me to love you if I don’t have to see you every day.”

Sid laughed, flung an arm around his son. “I’ll buy that,” he said, and he glanced at his watch. “Tell me you’re glad I came. Tell me it was worth the thousand miles.”

Rudy smiled.

“I’m tired of the zoo. Let’s get out of the zoo.” They walked up the steps, past the brown and black and polar bears, and Sid said, “There’s a sign says we’re headed for the carousel. Friedsam Memorial Carousel. That must make them very happy, the Friedsam people, knowing they gave a thing like that away. All these years, tell me what you done.”

“Hid, Father.”

Sid looked at him. “Where?”

“All over. First I went back to the deli, but it wasn’t there anymore. I stayed around, though. For a while. I don’t mind ghettos. Not really. I went west a while. I came east. I even wrote a book once, did you know?”

Sid shook his head. “What about?”

“Grandfather.”

“Turk?”

The boy nodded.

“What the hell kind of a book can you write about a man with a big nose? You make any money out of it?”

“Not so much.”

“I read
Exodus
. You read
Exodus
? Terrific. How do you make a living?”

“I don’t need much. Odd jobs. What do you want from me, Father?”

Sid pointed. “What is that?”

Rudy stared up at the circular enclosure on the top of a hill. “That’s where old people go. They play chess there.”

Sid glanced at his watch. “I’d love to see that. We got time.” He started up the steps.

“What do you want from me?”

“
What makes you think I want something
,
goddammit?
What makes you think I just didn’t come a thousand miles because I’m old and I want my son to say I love you? Why does everybody always have to want something from you?”

“
I don’t know! I don’t know!
”

“
Maybe I don’t!
”

“
But you do!
It’s happened before. Over and over and I know the signs. I feel things. I know. So tell me, it doesn’t matter, because I’m just too tired, I can’t do anything for anybody anymore.”

Sid hurried to the top of the stairs, found a bench, sat. Rudy slumped beside him. All around them, old men looked up from their chess games. “Ya got to,” Sid whispered.

“No, Father.”

“It’ll be the one best thing you ever did.”

“No, Father.”

“You won’t fail me.”

“No, Father.”

“Don’t say that till you know what it is.”

“No, Father.”

“
Don’t say that till you know what it is
.”

“What is it, then? Tell me.”

“Esther—she’s crazy, kid. I want you to commit your mother.”

The old men were watching them, wet eyes staring.

“It’s not what you think,” Sid said.

Rudy tried to stand.

Sid held him. “It’s not what you think,” and twenty feet away a black knight moved across a chessboard, whispering, “
Have you had enough? Are you ready now?
” and Sid said, “I don’t mean to any dump. I mean to the most expensive places in the country. I checked around already. Twenty thousand a year it would cost me, maybe more, but worth every penny. It’s best. It’s best.”

“
Why?
” The old men were nodding now, watching them and nodding, their tired heads moving like chickens after grain.

“Because she’s crazy and she needs peace and if she gets put away she’ll have it.”

“Put her away, then.”

“I need you—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t ... make them stop looking at us.”

“Forget them. Listen.” He grabbed his son. “Listen, Rudy, you know how it is with Esther and me—how it’s always been. I say ‘sit,’ she’s gotta stand—you know that’s true.
You’re
the only one. If
you
told her it would bring her peace to go, she would go.
You
she would believe. Me, never. She thinks I got other reasons. She’s gotta be put away. She’s gotta have peace, kid, and—”

“What are they, your other reasons?”

“
Go back to your games!
” Sid cried, and immediately the old heads turned away. “Old cockers. They should play their silly games and leave us—”

“I know you, Father. So tell me. The reasons. The reasons.”

“Sid Miller don’t lie! Not no more. Sure, I got reasons. The best reasons. The best in the whole world—you think I would come all this way to ask a favor
if it didn’t matter
? My God,
this is the most important thing in my whole life
—yes.”

“Leave me alone ... Father, please, Father ...”

“You got to do this.”

“Can’t you understand?
I’m tired
.”

“This you can do—”

“I’m really ... very tired, Father.”

“
This you can do!
This—
you old cockers!
Play your games! Leave my son and me alone!”

The old heads turned away.

“This you got to do,” Sid said. “Listen—when I was a youngster, pushing cutlery and like that door to door, shop to shop, I screwed all the broads—the broads, they fell ker-plunk for little Sidney, but not Esther, so whatever the reasons it was a mistake but we married—”

“Please ...”

“We married and we fought, and her health went and I clawed for every penny and by Christ I got pennies now, and I got a place on the board of Greentree Country Club, and servants I got, and a house in the country and land I got, but I also got a crazy wife, and then, Rudy—are you getting this?—now—listen—the most wonderful thing at last has happened to me—at last the only thing I never had I got—
I’m in love
,
Rudy
—me—Sid—in love—and she loves me—the widow Marks loves me—‘Sid and Dolly and everything’s jolly’—ya see?—ya see?—little poems I make up—her too—we’re
that
happy—at last I got someone who loves me—I never had that—neither did she ever have what we got now—
we love each other
—”

The old faces were watching again. Rudy closed his eyes.

Sid began to whisper. “But Esther ruins it ...
she follows us
. Always. Always. Wherever we try and go—
Esther’s there
—whenever we try and meet—
Esther’s there
—so don’t you see what it would mean, Rudy—it would mean love for me and peace for Esther and everybody could live happily ever after—don’t deprive me of my happiness, Rudy—don’t deprive your mother of peace—we’ve suffered—we have—release us, Rudy—from our suffering—let us go—”

“I could never,” Rudy whispered.

“Why?”

Rudy shook his head. “Never.”

“But
why?
”

“She’s not crazy.”

“You haven’t seen her in ten years. How do you know?”

“She has headaches. That doesn’t make her crazy.”

“But if she was, you would help me to put her away. You would tell her go.”

“If she was, you wouldn’t need me. You could get doctors. They would do it.”

“All that matters, Rudy, is what is
best for
her.”

“Yes.”

Sid grabbed him. “You agree, then. If she is crazy, then it would be
best
to put her away.”

“No, no, you should never put anyone—”

“These are fine places of which I’m speaking. Hot-and-cold-running doctors. She would be happy. You’ll help me. If you think she’s crazy.”

“No.”

“You mean yes.”

“Leave me alone, Father.”

“Rudy—”

“
I mean it!
”

“
Stare if you want to
,
old fools!
” Sid shouted at the chess men. “You’re tired,” he said, patting his son. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“No.”

“You can’t disappoint me. I know my son.”

“I’ve got to get back,” Rudy said. “You can go back too.”

“You mean leave? Before this is settled?”

“This is settled. The answer is forever no.” He started to walk.

Sid caught up, put an arm around his shoulder. “I’ve tired you. I’m a fool. Forgive me.” Sid pointed to a sign. “The Friedsam Memorial Carousel. What a poetic name almost.” They walked away from the old men and down across a road and in the distance they saw the carousel. “Can you hear?” Sid said.

Rudy shook his head.

“Such beautiful music,” Sid said. “Sets your feet right to tapping.”

“I can’t hear.”

“Rudy—”

“You came a thousand miles for nothing. Don’t ask me anymore. It’s over. You want to put her away, do it, do it, but not with me. Never mention it again to me.”

“I’m in love, Rudy. And Esther needs peace. The world’s too much for her now. It beats her all the time. It hurts her, Rudy. She’s suffered. God knows we both have. Please—”

“I say never mention it and you go right on. Why must you do that?”

“Because I am in love! Because I am desperate. Look at the carousel, Rudy. Isn’t it a wonderful thing?” They moved up close to it and the sound of children joined the music. Sid looked at his watch. “Eleven almost on the button,” he said, then he waved.

Esther waved back.

“Surprise,” Sid said.

“She’s
here?
”

Esther started toward them.

Rudy turned.

Sid grabbed him. “Talk to her. Talk to her. You’ll see how crazy. How she needs peace. You’ll see.”

“Rudy ...” Esther called. “Rudy ... closer.”

“Talk to her. You’ll see.”

“Rudy ...” Esther said. She stopped in front of him.

Rudy just stood there.

Esther wept.

“Eleven o’clock it is, Tootsie,” Sid said. “Did I lie?”

Esther clutched her son. “I must stop crying,” she said. “I will ruin my makeup. Everything runs when you cry.”

“Talk to her, Rudy,” Sid said.

She looked as young and pretty as he could ever remember. He told her so.

“You two talk,” Sid said, smiling, waving as he backed off. “Look—” and he pointed—“there’s horseshoe players. I’ll go watch the horseshoe players. You two just talk as much as you want to.”

Esther watched him go. “What did he want from you?”

“ ... nothing ...”

“Watch out. He has some scheme in mind. I know him. Oh ...” She looked down at the sidewalk where her purse had fallen. “I do that. I drop things.”

Rudy picked up her purse. “You really look wonderful, Mother.”

“I have no more headaches.”

“Oh, what a blessing, what a blessing.”

“I have no more headaches. No more. I drop things. I just somehow forget I have things in my hands and they open and something drops. Are you hot? I’m hot. I love you, Rudy.” She moved to a bench by the carousel and sat down. “I love the carousel, don’t you?” There were two little blond children at the far end of the bench. “Hello,” Esther said. “What are your names?”

They said nothing.

“This is my son,” Esther went on. “Rudy, say hello to the young ladies.”

“Hello.” Rudy smiled.

“I have no more headaches, isn’t that a blessing?” Esther put the tips of her fingers to her eyes. “We said that. Yes. I drop things and I can’t remember much unless it was a long time ago, isn’t that funny?”

Rudy smiled. “It’s so hot today. That’s probably why.”

The carousel stopped. Children streamed off, others waited to get on. The noise was high and very loud. “Do you remember Eli Shapiro? Of course you don’t, why should you? He was the undertaker—he buried your grandfather—oh ...” She looked down at the sidewalk.

Rudy picked up her purse and gave it back to her and smiled.

“He was the last man to take me on a carousel. Eli Shapiro, I loved him so much, Rudy, why did he leave me?”

Rudy made another smile.

“I wonder what Sid wants from you? Where is Sid? Probably off with that Dolly. Did you hear? Everybody talks about it—the spectacle they’re making of themselves—terrible.” She shook her head. “I do my best to save them from criticism: The wife of Eli Shapiro can do no less than to try and save her friends from criticism.” The little blond girls hurried away. Esther stared after them. “Rudy? Why didn’t they tell me their names?”

“They were just nervous.”

“No. I did something, I could tell. You can tell when people like you. They didn’t like me. Oh ...”

Rudy picked up her purse.

“It’s so hot here in Chicago.” Esther laughed. “Do you remember how it was over the deli? We sweltered so, remember? Our whole house is air-conditioned now, Rudy. Every nook. We don’t use it, though. Only maybe twice a year. That’s all it ever gets so hot you need to turn it on. And sometimes when I have a bad headache, we use it then too.”

“Good,” Rudy said.

Esther shook her head. “That’s three,” she said. “Three mistakes I’ve made. Now wait—what tune is that from the carousel? ‘Put On Your Old Gray Bonnet’?”

“I can’t tell. Perhaps.”