A Castle in Brooklyn(18)
“Best of luck to you and Esther. May you both have a life filled with mazel, many blessings. And don’t forget to write! I look forward to your letters,” Zalman said, this time in English, as he, too, averted his eyes.
“You too. You don’t forget either. And all the best,” replied Jacob as he settled into the driver’s seat and locked the door just as an icy wind had picked up.
Neither man, however, was true to his word. It would be more than a year before Jacob would hear from Zalman. Perhaps it was because both had become too busy—Zalman with the daily tasks of keeping the farm sustainable, and Jacob with learning the business of real estate. Or maybe, as is usually the case with spans of distance and time, each had so much to say that neither was willing to expend the effort, and so said nothing.
Living with his in-laws and studying the numbers, the records, the contracts of real estate, while daunting at first, proved to be satisfying for Jacob. He enjoyed the stability of a home, his clothes laundered, his eggs prepared just the way he liked, and as he assumed more and more responsibilities at EMI Realty, he had come to realize that he was no longer standing at the door looking in, but rather a man, an important man, who was now part of the world he craved. Weekly, he would travel to see Aunt Rose and Uncle Abraham, noticing their hands becoming more gnarled, their backs more stooped with each visit. Yet, without exception, the smiles that flashed across their faces and momentarily shaved away the years appeared each time he would walk through the door. And since the day Jacob had left the seltzer-bottling company and his job of filling, sorting, and stacking, he hadn’t missed it. Not one bit.
Although Jacob was content with his new life, paradoxically, the yearning, as if there was something more ahead, never left him. He liked his tasks, even if he had to dress up in a gray pinstriped suit and red tie for meetings with clients. He found himself waking, despite the alarm clock’s shrill ring, ten minutes earlier each day, and as he placed his head on the pillow each evening, numbers and names and new ventures would float through his mind, directionless, like blackbirds. Jacob had a destination, though, and even if he couldn’t quite formulate how he would arrive there or what it was, he knew that everything, even the terrors in his life, had conspired just so he could reach that moment. And something told him it was coming very soon.
After only a month of married life, Jacob also knew he had made a good choice in Esther, who was becoming more loving, more devoted to him with each day. And if it were possible, also more beautiful. Her chestnut hair, which had grown longer, sparkled as sun seeped through the windows in the early morning, and her eyes seemed more brilliant. But maybe, he concluded, that was just the way it was when women were in love.
Mornings Jacob would leave the city apartment with Esther and Boris, their bellies full of french toast slathered with strawberry jelly, hot coffee, and, for Esther, her rose tea. Each carried an attaché case with a dozen papers and pens along with lunch: an apple and bologna sandwiches for father and daughter, liverwurst with an occasional Hostess Twinkie for Jacob. Esther was a patient teacher, explaining the nature of the documents, tax forms, even stock market fluctuations. Jacob was a quick and avid learner. But over the course of a month, he noticed a peculiar thing. As he assimilated more knowledge, Esther grew quieter, less animated. The more papers she placed on his desk, the cleaner hers had become; the more tenants and associates he saw, the fewer work calls Esther assumed. As he grew fat with each new duty, with the knowledge, Esther had seemed to seep away, as if her brain had become a sieve. She no longer dressed for work, preferring to wear pedal pushers and to tie her hair with a bow just like one of the teenagers who huddled together on street corners. One morning, Esther decided not to get up for work.
Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Jacob approached her, concerned.
“Are you ill, my dear? Is that why you’re still in bed?”
Esther opened one eye from beneath the covers.
“Not ill,” she mumbled, her mind still saturated by sleep. Jacob walked over to the side of the bed.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Rubbing her eyes now, she pushed off the yellow-and-gray blanket Jacob had brought from home and sat up. Jacob relaxed when he saw the familiar broad smile come to her face.
“Nothing is wrong, my love. Nothing at all. It’s just that it’s time for me to stop working, that’s all. Your time to take on the business, to be my father’s right-hand man. After all, my brothers will be leaving within a year’s time, and Papou will need you.”
“And what about you? I never meant to take your place.” He knitted his eyebrows together, stared into her eyes.
Esther’s face softened.
“Me? There is nothing I want more than to be your wife, to make you a home one day, to raise our children. Besides, I never much liked the business, anyway. Now come give me a kiss goodbye.”
Jacob hesitated for only a second, searching her eyes before leaning in. He had a feeling that his wife wasn’t being entirely truthful. She had never shown any sign that she was growing weary of the business; in fact, she was proud of the way she dealt with clients, enjoyed teaching him the ins and outs of real estate. But he had no time to deliberate the issue. He had a 9:00 a.m. meeting and he couldn’t be late. He would have to accept her words for what they were. He preferred to think of himself as a lucky man to have such a wife. A lucky man, indeed.
Life, like the ticking of a clock, settled into an orderly beat. After the couple had lived together for nearly a year, the apartment down the hall became available, and the two happily began to set up a place they could finally call their own. Jacob’s pride prevented him from accepting Boris’s offer of living rent-free, and he used his now-substantial earnings to finance the two-bedroom habitat. Most days, Esther and her mother spent their time perusing the wholesale warehouses for furniture. Although Esther had never fancied herself much of a shopper, her mother’s ardor for the task proved infectious, and the two set out on these missions with a glee and abandon Jacob had never before witnessed, nor could comprehend. One day, the two purchased a new round table with a Formica top for the kitchen; the following week, the small white refrigerator had been replaced by a larger-size appliance that defrosted automatically; and the week after that, Jacob came home to find Esther seated on a new turquoise silk couch that ran across the length of the wall, watching The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet on a new thirty-six-inch Magnavox. Esther had also insisted that her beloved piano be handled by professional piano movers. At first, Jacob could not quite understand the need for such an extra expense. People whose job it was to move musical instruments?