Mrs. Houdini(21)

Mrs. Rahner’s apartment was halfway down Driggs Avenue, in a decrepit building split into eight units. It was larger than the Weisses’, but there had been twelve of them living in it at one point. It was not, however, nearly as clean, and as they climbed to the third floor Bess noticed the rows of dead plants, the carcasses of gifts her stepfather had brought home after his many binges, bought with money they could not afford to spend. Harry would not hold her hand, and she realized when she took it anyway that it was because his palms were wet with sweat. It dawned on her that Harry Houdini—who pretended to be afraid of nothing—was terrified of this meeting. It was a revelation that made him seem suddenly more human.

“We’ll only stay an hour,” she whispered as they waited for someone to come to the door. “Don’t worry.” Despite everything that had happened with her stepfather, she still felt an allegiance to her mother. Mrs. Rahner had displayed little affection as Bess was growing up, but there had always been love there.

Inside, they could hear the cries of Bess’s younger siblings, and feet running across the wooden floors. Finally, the door opened, and Bess’s sister Stella, a full-figured blonde four years older than Bess, stood in the foyer.

“What are you doing here?” Bess threw herself into Stella’s arms.

“Mother’s got a terrible cold,” Stella said. “She’s run ragged. I came over to help.”

“Well, she’s not going to like what I have to say, then.”

Stella glanced at Harry, who was frozen in the hallway, his hands pressed against his sides. “You’re not . . . planning to move back in with Mother, are you?”

“No, it’s the opposite. I’m married. I’m not coming home again.”

Stella laughed.

“I am, really. This is Harry, and he and I are married.”

Stella gaped at her. “That’s ridiculous. How could you be married? You only just left for Coney Island a month ago.”

Bess thought back to Harry’s own tactics with his family. “I know. But we love each other.”

Stella stared at them for a moment longer, and her face softened. “Well, congratulations then. I’m happy for you.”

Bess looked past her into the apartment, but she didn’t see her mother. She had been inside the rooms only on Sundays since she had moved in with Stella two years earlier. “Darling, you have to tell her for me. I can’t bear to do it. You know how she is. Go in and ask her if she’ll see us.”

Stella wiped her hands on the dish towel she was holding. “Why are you so nervous about it? She wasn’t upset when I got married at eighteen. If you’ve had a proper Catholic wedding, you know she’ll be happy.”

Bess bit her lip. “Well, I didn’t have one, you see.” She hesitated. “Harry’s Jewish, for one, and—the other thing is, you see, he’s a magician, and we’re leaving next week for the show circuit in the South.”

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” Stella said.

“Please,” Bess begged. “Tell her for me and see if she’ll see us?”

“Wait here a minute.” Stella shook her head. “I don’t know what she’ll say.”

Stella retreated to the back bedroom to find Mrs. Rahner. The smaller children, hearing voices, came running to the door, and squealed when they saw Bess. They clung to her arms and legs.

“Why won’t you go inside?” Harry asked.

“I’ve got a frightful headache,” Bess said. “And I don’t want to get into an argument. I’d rather go back to Coney Island if there’s just going to be a row.” She paused, recalling Mrs. Weiss’s gentleness. “Your mother was so kind to me. You won’t understand mine. She won’t be as kind to you.”

Harry seemed relieved to hear they might be leaving. He hung back awkwardly as Bess greeted the children.

“Do some magic for them,” she whispered. “Don’t just stand there.”

Harry seemed to relax at the suggestion. “Hey, look at this!” He reached behind one of the girl’s ears and brought a tiny paper flower into view. “Presto,” he said, waving the flower with a flourish. The children released Bess immediately and crowded around him instead.

From the back of the apartment, they heard a loud wail. Mrs. Rahner came out of the bedroom in her nightgown, brandishing a chain of rosary beads, Stella trailing after her. “You get out of my house!” she cried, in her heavy German accent, rushing toward the door. “Beatrice, you have condemned yourself! How could you? You’ve gotten yourself in league with the devil!”

The children scampered into the kitchen, laughing, but Harry stepped backward into the hallway, clearly startled. Bess just stared. Her mother’s green eyes were full of fear and rage, the skin beneath them paper-thin. Her face and body were thin, too, so that even in her assault she seemed frail as a bird.

Stella stepped in front of her mother and tried to calm her. But Mrs. Rahner grabbed a vial of holy water and began splashing it all over the foyer and in the doorway where Bess and Harry stood.

“What in the world is going on?” Harry said, as the water splashed over his feet. She could see his cheeks reddening angrily.

Bess grabbed his arm. “Oh, be rational, Mama. He’s not the devil. We just came to say good-bye before we leave.”