The Two-Family House(12)

A few minutes later Judith appeared, cheeks red and eyes swollen. She had been crying.

“Hi, honey,” Helen said. “Ready to walk me to the drugstore?”

Judith managed a small smile. “Sure, Aunt Helen.”

“Let’s go then.” The two of them walked out of the house into the crisp September air. Judith was silent, busily picking at a stray thread on her sleeve. She was a full year younger than Harry, but to Helen she was more mature by far.

Helen had a soft spot for Judith, maybe because she was the daughter who always seemed to bear the brunt of Mort’s disapproval. Mimi and Dinah were more spirited girls, not as easily flattened by Mort’s moods.

When Judith was ten, she had won the poetry award at her elementary school’s end-of-year picnic. Helen and Rose had set up their blankets next to each other on the field. Helen still remembered what they brought for lunch that day: her cold fried chicken, Rose’s potato salad, homemade cookies and thermoses of iced tea. Helen had felt sorry for the family next to them with their limp tuna sandwiches. After eating, the boys ran off to play kickball, and Dinah followed Mimi to a patch of blacktop where she was playing jacks with some girls from her class. Only Judith remained on the blanket with them, reading one of her books. Rose looked to Helen for reassurance. She’s fine, Helen had mouthed, but she could tell Rose was worried.

After all the families had finished eating, the principal walked to the front of the school, where a makeshift podium was set up. The time had come for the awarding of prizes.

The science prize had gone to two fifth-graders for their experiment on tomato plants. The physical education prize went to Benjamin Wareham, for the third year in a row. By the time they got around to the poetry prize, most people had stopped paying attention. When Judith’s name was announced, Helen was already packing up their leftovers.

Judith hadn’t known about the award beforehand, so when her English teacher asked her to recite the poem she wrote, Judith looked nervous. After a few moments, however, she cleared her throat and began: A friend is like a shining star

That sparkles in the sky.

A friend that’s good and kind is like

A twinkle in your eye.

But when a friend betrays your trust

The shining light goes dark,

And sadness dims what once was bright

Like water on a spark.

I told a friend my secret.

My heart was open wide,

Just like a fragile seashell

That shows the pearl inside.

My friend picked up the seashell

She took the pearl in hand.

And once she had possessed it,

She strung it on a strand.

She wore the pearl around her neck

And everyone could see.

She did not keep my secret.

She was no friend to me.

The crowd clapped politely, but they were clearly surprised by the severity of the poem. People were expecting something simpler from a ten-year-old girl—something about rainbows or butterflies. Not Helen. She was impressed.

“I don’t get it,” said Harry, and Helen had glared at him.

When Judith returned to the blanket with her certificate, the first one she showed it to was Mort. “Very nice,” he said blandly.

“Mrs. Curtis said I have a real way with words, and that my imagery is extremely vivid. She said I’m the best writer in the class.”

“Who’s the best at math?” Mort asked. Rose sucked in her breath, and Judith’s smile shriveled. She dropped her certificate on the grass and ran. Rose went after her. The rest of them gathered their things and walked home in silence.

More than two years had gone by since the picnic, but Helen worried that Mort and Judith would always have a strained relationship.

“So, are you excited to go to the restaurant tonight?” Helen asked. She was trying to walk carefully on the uneven sidewalk. The air smelled like onions and potatoes from the knish cart on the corner.

Judith would have preferred to stay at home, but she knew it was Helen’s brother who had invited them. “It should be fun,” she said. “Mimi and Dinah can’t stop talking about it. Especially Mimi.”

“I can tell. Did she wear that dress to bed last night?”

Judith played along with the joke. “Nah, that would have wrinkled it.” They walked a little longer.

When they got to the drugstore, the bell on the door announced their arrival. “Hi, Mrs. Feldman,” Helen called to the woman behind the counter. Helen pulled Judith toward the cosmetics section and grabbed a sample from the counter display. “How’s this one?” she asked.

“Too orange.”

“This one?”

Judith’s eyes widened, and she started to laugh. “It’s horrible!” She looked over the choices and handed a different tube to her aunt. “Try this.”

Helen gave the tube a twist, put some on her lips and looked in the tiny hand mirror. “Perfect! You can pick my lipstick anytime.” She winked at Judith. “Should we pick one for you?” Judith shook her head. “I’d rather have a candy bar.”

“Two Hershey bars, one bottle of aspirin and this lipstick, please, Mrs. Feldman,” Judith said, piling their items by the cash register.

They walked home together, nibbling on their chocolate bars.

Helen had to ask, “Do you want to tell me why you were crying?”