The Two-Family House(54)

“Hey, Mort, Teddy, whatcha up to?”

“Hi, Uncle Abe!” Teddy had called out.

“What does it look like we’re up to?” Mort had grumbled.

“Looks like bike riding. Hey, Teddy, how about I take off those training wheels, and you give it a try without ’em?”

Teddy had considered it for a few moments. “Maybe. If Dad says it’s okay.”

“Whaddya say, Morty? Let’s get those things off and teach Teddy to ride.”

Abe hadn’t exactly waited for Mort’s answer. He had found a wrench in the tool kit he kept in the trunk of his car. A few minutes later the training wheels were off and Teddy was trying to ride without them. Abe had run alongside the bike, trying to keep Teddy’s momentum so balancing would be easier. There had been a few scrapes and scratches, but in less than an hour, Teddy had done it. He could ride the bike on his own!

Abe thought he was doing a mitzvah that afternoon, a good deed. But Mort hadn’t seen it that way. He had moved over to a bench that sat between the field and the parking lot, and ignored them both for the full hour it had taken to get Teddy riding. When they were done, Teddy had ridden the bike all around the parking lot.

“Did you see me, Dad? Wasn’t I good?”

Mort shrugged, busying himself with a day-old newspaper section someone had left on the bench. He hadn’t looked up. “Who cares what I think?”

“Didn’t you see me?”

“Ask your uncle—he’s the famous bicycle instructor.”

Teddy was too young to understand why his father was angry, but he understood that something was wrong. His smile faded and he looked like he might cry.

“C’mon, Morty,” Abe pleaded. “He did great, don’tcha think?”

But Mort wouldn’t answer. He just stared at the newspaper. Abe had a feeling in his gut like he might be sick. He sat down next to his brother on the bench, took hold of his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Listen, Mort. Stop torturing the kid and cut him a break. You wanna be mad at me for butting my nose in? Be mad at me. But don’t take it out on him. For Chrissake.”

Mort refused to respond, and Abe grew desperate. “I won’t do it again, Mort. All right? I swear it. I won’t go near him. But throw the kid a bone, Mort. Please.”

Mort had taken his time folding up the newspaper and finally looked at Teddy. “Your uncle is right—you learned to ride quickly. Let’s go home and show your mother and your sisters.”

Good-natured Teddy had recovered instantly. “Okay! Wait till Mom sees!” But by the time Teddy turned around to thank his uncle, Abe had already been walking away from them, back to the field where his boys were playing. “Take care!” he had called out, waving behind him. Abe wanted to get away from Teddy and Mort as quickly as he could. He hadn’t wanted to linger and risk Mort changing his mind.

For the next few years, up to the day Teddy died, Abe had kept his end of the bargain, the bargain he had struck with his brother that day at the school parking lot. He never got too close again. But on the morning of the funeral, one of the many thoughts swirling through Abe’s mind was that he wished he had spent more time with his nephew.

*

“Dad, Mom says we should get in the car. She’ll be out in a minute.” George walked into the kitchen, still tucking his shirt into his trousers. Abe got up from his seat at the kitchen table and poured his cold cup of coffee down the sink.

“How’re you doing, George?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” George was the most sensitive of his sons. Abe wanted to make sure he was all right.

“It hasn’t sunk in yet, I guess. Teddy shouldn’t have had to die like that, when he was so little.” George spoke softly, like he didn’t want anyone to hear. “I’m sad for Natalie. He was her best friend—I mean, her best friend in the whole world.”

Abe patted George on the shoulder. “I know, Georgie. It’s not going to be easy for her. We’re all going to have to help.”

He gave a solemn nod. “Do you want me to tell her we’re ready to go?”

“Let me do it, kiddo. You go round up your brothers.”

Abe hesitated for a moment after knocking on Natalie’s door, then walked into her room. She was sitting on her bed, reading one of a dozen comic books strewn across the yellow bedspread. Her eyes were red and swollen, but for the moment, at least, she had stopped crying.

“Sweetheart, we have to leave in a few minutes,” he told her.

She put down the comic book. “I know, Daddy. I don’t want to be late.”

“Did Mommy braid your hair for you?” Natalie’s hair was set in two neatly braided pigtails. Abe was surprised Helen had found the time to fix Natalie’s hair like that. She had barely spoken since the day before but she had been in the kitchen almost all night, cooking and baking.

“I did it. Teddy likes braids. He says braids look like rope.”

Her use of the present tense made Abe’s heart ache. “You did a good job.”

“Are we going to go to the cemetery after the funeral?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Is it the one where your mother and father are?

“Yes.”

Natalie’s eyes began to tear. “Do you think Grandma and Grandpa know Teddy’s coming?”