The Two-Family House(15)

“What did you say?” Sol was agitated now.

“Slow down,” said Abe. “Mort just means the boys will work at Box Brothers one day. Just like you’ll have Johnny to take over your business.”

“I want to work in the family business too,” interrupted Mimi. “Can I?” she turned to her mother for an answer. Rose just put her finger over her lips. “Shh.”

Sol tried to be conciliatory. He held up his scotch glass and made a toast. “To family.” He turned to Rose and Helen. “May your new children be happy and healthy.”

Sol swallowed his drink, and Mort downed his as well. “I thought you said you didn’t like scotch,” Helen said.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But it’s bad luck not to drink when someone makes a toast.”

Luckily, Gino arrived then, distracting them all with the menus. Sol handed his back to Gino without even opening it. “Bring us whatever you think we’ll like, Gino. You choose for us.” Gino made a small bow and collected the menus back from everyone. “It would be my pleasure.”

It was a good time for a visit to the ladies’ room, so Helen excused herself and left the table. Why was everything going so wrong?

When Helen came out of the stall, Rose was sitting at the vanity table, waiting for her.

“Helen, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come. Mort gets … uneasy around Sol. I knew he wouldn’t want Judith to sit next to him.”

“It’s fine,” said Helen. “You know Sol just likes to joke. He would never say anything inappropriate with Judith sitting next to him.”

“I know,” said Rose, though she didn’t sound convinced. It bothered Helen that Rose so obviously disapproved of her brother. She knew Mort did, but that was different; Mort disapproved of almost everyone.

“We should get back,” Rose said, and she opened the ladies’ room door for Helen. There was an awkwardness between them that hadn’t been there before, and Helen was surprisingly uncomfortable. Having walked out of the ladies’ room first, Helen tried to slow her pace so that Rose could catch up. But no matter how hard she tried, she was always a little bit ahead. For the first time since they had known each other, the two women were out of step.





Chapter 11





MORT


(October 1947)

After the news of Rose’s pregnancy became public, Mort became increasingly annoyed with his coworkers. Most of them seemed to think he had nothing better to do with his time than to answer personal questions about Rose’s condition and their family life. If it were not for his daily point quota, he would have refused to acknowledge the questions at all. But he knew what he had to do to keep the covenant he had made. It would be so much easier to be nice to people if only they would stop talking to him.

Mort tried to prepare himself as he approached the company coffeepot Monday morning. It was a place where he was often drawn into conversation, and he wanted to be ready.

“Good morning, Mort.” It was Sheila, the only woman who worked at Box Brothers. Sheila answered phones and did the typing for Abe and Mort. She arrived on time and was generally pleasant and efficient. Abe referred to Sheila as a “gem.” Mort felt she was adequate.

“Good morning,” he responded. This was a classic one-point encounter for Mort, but the next moment was critical. He could take his coffee, keep his head down and walk back to his office. Or, he could prolong the meeting with a follow-up remark, thereby creating a multiple-point situation. It was the sort of decision Mort had come to dread. The follow-up remark was dangerous—who knew how much time he might waste if he risked it? On the other hand, the possibility of earning extra points was tempting. The weekend had not been a good one for him. He had made some unkind remarks to Judith about a book she was reading, and his weekend score had plummeted as a result. Here was an opportunity to get himself back on track.

He took a deep breath and spoke. “I hope you had a nice weekend,” he said to Sheila.

As the words came out of his mouth, he congratulated himself on his phrasing. He had not made the mistake of asking the open-ended question How was your weekend? Through trial-and-error he had come to realize that asking open-ended questions led to long, drawn-out answers from people. The question Did you have a nice weekend? was slightly better (if you were lucky, you might get a quick yes or no) but still risky. In stating he hoped Sheila had a good weekend, Mort felt certain he had bypassed the need for Sheila to provide any answer at all. The most appropriate way to respond to such a statement, Mort felt, was to nod. Certainly no more than that was necessary.

How wrong he was! “Aren’t you sweet for asking,” Sheila replied. Asking? He had asked nothing. In fact, he had gone out of his way specifically not to ask. Did no one understand grammar? Syntax? The etiquette of language? He gritted his teeth.

“My girlfriend Pamela and I met for lunch and a matinee on Saturday. They were showing The Red Shoes.” She sighed. “It was such a wonderful film, Mort. Just lovely. Have you seen it?” Mort shook his head. Why did she feel the need to suffocate him with the specifics of her weekend?

“No? You really should take Rose to see it one of these days. Maybe try to have a night out before the baby comes.” The baby. There it was. He braced himself for the inevitable interrogation.