The Two-Family House(84)

Most of the people at Abe’s funeral knew Mort, or, if they didn’t know him personally, they knew of him from others. His reputation did not prepare them for the warmth of the eulogy he gave. He returned to his seat, unrecognizable.

Later, on the way to Helen’s house from the cemetery, Mort could not help but to take stock of his life. His brother, Abe, was gone and Teddy, his only son, had died years before. His wife had left him. Mimi and Dinah were present in his life, but not significantly so. He had two young grandsons (Mimi’s boys) whom he hardly saw and no real friends to speak of. Earlier in his life, after measuring such devastating losses, he would have considered himself wholly in the red.

But time had altered his perspective, and there were blessings still left to be counted. Over the past eight years, Helen had become like a sister to him. She invited him to the house a couple of nights a week, where he debated baseball history and game highlights with George and Joe over dinner. He found he enjoyed working with Harry and Sam at Box Brothers. His daughter Judith was a professor at Barnard and was about to publish her second book on modern poetry. Natalie was graduating from Barnard in the spring as a math major and he was looking forward to attending her graduation with the rest of her family.

As Mort considered his situation now, in the autumn of his fifty-ninth year, he concluded that his numbers were steadily improving.





Chapter 66





JUDITH


(April 1970)

Six months after the funeral, Judith met Natalie for lunch between classes. Natalie’s thesis was due in a week and she was working furiously to finish it. Judith found the twenty-one-year-old in their usual booth at the coffee shop on 116th Street, scribbling on a stack of papers in red pen. She stopped writing when she saw Judith and waved.

“I already ordered for us,” Natalie told her. “Two grilled cheese sandwiches and two pieces of apple pie.”

“Perfect,” said Judith. She slid into the worn leather banquette and pointed to the paper pile that rested on the linoleum tabletop. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. There’s a lot to do, and I’m just hoping it’s good enough.” Natalie looked as pretty as ever, but Judith couldn’t help registering the dark circles under her eyes and the messy pieces of dark brown hair escaping from her ponytail. She had lost weight since Abe had passed away, and Judith was worried about her.

“I understand, but you need to get some rest. Do you want me to talk to your thesis adviser about an extension?”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Just because Professor Kaplan is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he should give me special treatment.”

“I know, but you’ve been through a lot this year.” She tried to change the subject. “Hey, how’s the chemistry major from Columbia?”

Natalie shook her head. “Roger? Physics major, actually. But it’s over. There was no chemistry.” She smirked at her own bad joke and scrambled to move the paper pile over to one side of the table as the waitress set down their sandwiches.

Judith bit into the triangle-shaped half of her grilled cheese. No matter how many she made at home on her own stove, she could never get them to taste this good. “What about that cute Canadian guy from last year? You liked him, didn’t you?”

“I did, for a while.…”

Judith tried to sound casual. “Have you seen Johnny lately?”

Natalie shoved an entire half of grilled cheese into her mouth and chewed. She wouldn’t look up.

“C’mon, Nat. What’s going on? All those cute boys calling you, and you don’t want to date any of them.” Judith paused to give Natalie an opening. But when she didn’t stop chewing, Judith continued, “Does this have anything to do with Johnny?”

Natalie paused to swallow. “Are you an English professor or a detective?”

“There are more similarities than you’d think.”

Natalie’s face flushed red. She finished her sandwich and downed the rest of her coffee. Judith didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions, so she tried to be patient. In the meantime, the waitress returned to clear their plates and refill their coffee. When she brought over the two slices of pie, Natalie started talking. “The thing is,” she said, scraping the filling out of the crust, “no matter who we date, no matter what we do, it always comes back to Johnny and me. There’s so much we’ve shared together. Teddy, my dad.” She put down her fork. “How could I love someone who’s never even met my father?”

“Bill is never going to meet my mother.”

“It’s not the same.” Natalie looked annoyed, and Judith regretted her comment.

“I know.”

“When Johnny went to college, we said we would meet other people and that we’d try to forget about each other in that way. But then he’d come home and we’d see each other again. What’s between us just never goes away. Not for him and not for me.”

“So you two have been seeing each other?”

Natalie looked sheepish. “Yes. But what can we do about it? We’re first cousins, for crying out loud. There’s a tremendous stigma.”

“It’s perfectly legal in New York. Besides, a million famous people have married their first cousins.”