A Castle in Brooklyn(30)

She had lied, and it had taken all her strength that evening not to turn away, to hold back the tears that were straining at the corners of her eyes. As usual, Boris had relented to his daughter’s wishes, making Jacob an offer as promised on their wedding day. But the deed to their home had been his idea and a surprise to the daughter who had deceived them all.

As Esther slowly loosened her control over the business, letting Jacob take over first one project, then another, as she immersed herself into shopping and decorating the apartment and then a home, the regret would subside. And then, after Gary was born, there were even days when she truly gave the missed opportunities little thought. But now, with Jacob away at work most of the time, and Gary attending public school, she had begun to feel the yearning once again, more than she had before. She wondered what it would be like to fill the void in her heart with a job, if not in real estate, then maybe as a music teacher. Or maybe something else. Maybe another baby.

When he walked through the door, Jacob had not even bothered to remove the jacket of his new three-piece Louis Cardin suit or place his attaché case in the closet. Instead, dragging his feet across the floor, he plopped down on the couch next to his wife, who was watching an I Dream of Jeannie rerun, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. In that moment, she assessed Jacob’s face, which had assumed the dull gray color of the TV cabinet. And yet, with the bright-green eyes and the dimple in his chin, after nearly sixteen years, he was still the handsomest man she had ever known.

“You work too hard,” she said, returning her gaze to the TV screen. It was a phrase she had uttered nearly each evening since the death of her father over two years earlier. Jacob ignored her, his eyes scanning the room.

“Where’s Gary? Doing homework?”

She turned again to look at him and placed one hand on his knee.

“Gary’s been asleep for nearly two hours, dear. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

He lifted his wrist as if to look at his watch, then let his arm fall.

“I hadn’t realized. It’s been a tough day.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, standing. “I’ve got meatballs and spaghetti I can warm up on the stove.” He raised an arm to stop her.

“Don’t bother. I’m not very hungry anyway. I’ll just boil myself a hot dog. I’m sure we’ve got a package of Hebrew National in the fridge.”

Esther settled back on the sofa pillow and listened as the refrigerator door creaked open, then shut, and the pans rattled as Jacob removed a pot from a shelf. She couldn’t pay much attention to the show now. When she entered the kitchen, Jacob was taking his first bite of a frank, tasteless without mustard or sauerkraut, but he seemed fairly pleased with it anyway. She put on the apron, which was hanging over a chair, and began washing the dinner dishes that she had been too tired to tackle earlier.

“Jacob, I need to talk with you about something,” she said, swirling a sponge through the soapy water as she stared out the open blinds into the night sky, as if she could actually see something there.

“What is it? Is something wrong with Gary? Did he come down with a cold or the flu? We need to dress him in warmer clothes. It might be spring, but that doesn’t mean there’s good weather every day.”

Esther shook her head, still staring out into the blackness.

“No, dear, it’s not that. Gary is perfectly fine. And he has a closet filled with woolens. It’s not that,” she repeated. “It’s just that you need to know about something. I see things that you don’t even notice since you are not home that much.”

Jacob scowled.

“Wait! What are you saying?” he asked, raising his voice. “Are you blaming me for not spending enough time with you and Gary?” He stopped, choking on a piece of the meat. Esther turned to face her husband.

Before she could go to him or utter a word, he cleared his throat and resumed, his voice an octave lower.

“Look, Esther, I’m trying my best. It’s not an easy job, and I only wish I could be with you both more than just on weekends. I’m not complaining. Not at all, you know I’ve always said I’m the luckiest man on earth, after what I’ve been through, God knows!”

Esther stood quietly, the soaked sponge still in her hands.

“Yes, Jacob, I know. And you say it all the time.”

“The luckiest man on earth,” he repeated as if she hadn’t heard. “I have a castle, I have you, I have Gary. And Zalman, of course, my right-hand man.”

Esther looked down at the linoleum, which showed a few streaks of dried ketchup.

“Jacob, it’s Zalman I want to talk to you about.”

He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth slowly.

“What do you mean to say about Zalman? Is there a problem? Is he sick? I see him always, and I don’t see any problems.”

“That’s just it. You can’t see the problem. But I feel it—call it woman’s intuition. Yes, I feel it more than see it. The matter is, he needs to leave this house.”

“Narishkeit,” said Jacob, using an old Yiddish expression for “nonsense,” giving her a dismissive wave of the hand. “Zalman loves it here. He’s a happy man with a fine job where he doesn’t have to put in long hours at work, and has you to cook for him, even iron his pants. Besides, you know how much he adores our son, just like he was his own.”