how my parents can get back in your good graces.”
“Talked to a rental agent?” I asked. “You could be here for years.”
“I’ve got every right to see Leah. You can’t stop me from that.”
“Yes, I can. And instead of threatening me or challenging me, I’d take on a conciliatory note. I’ve arranged my life so I can leave this city tonight and take up residence in another country with relative ease. I live like a man on the run because I fear encounters such as these. I don’t need you in my life and my daughter certainly doesn’t need you.”
“She’s my niece,” Martha said.
“She’s a lot of people’s niece—I’m perfectly consistent—none of my brothers get to see her, either. I’m raising Leah so she can be screwed up by only one single relative. That’s me. My family’s fucked up and your family’s fucked up. But I carefully devised a life so that this condition of perpetual damage will not pass to my kid.”
“My parents both cry when they talk about Leah. They cry when they realize it’s been so many years since they’ve seen her.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “My heart leaps like a doe in the forest when I think of your parents weeping. They can cry all they want.”
“They say not seeing Leah’s worse than what happened to them during the war.”
“Please,” I said, putting my face into my hands, tiring of theeffort to be pleasant to my wife’s only sister. “In your family, if you talk about mowing the lawn or sewing a button on a shirt or rotating the wheels on a car, you always end up in Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen. Talk about going out for a burger and a milkshake or catching a movie on TV and the next thing you know, bingo, we’re on a cattle car moving through Eastern Europe.”
“I’m really sorry, Jack, if my parents overemphasized the Holocaust in your presence,” Martha shot back angrily. “My parents suffered terribly. They suffer to this very day.”
“They didn’t suffer as much as your sister did,” I answered. “As much as my wife did.”
“How can you make such comparisons?”
“Because Shyla’s dead and your parents are still alive. The way I keep a scorecard, she wins the grand sweepstakes.”
“My father thinks Shyla would never have killed herself if she’d married a Jewish man.”
“And you still wonder why I don’t let my daughter visit your parents?”
“Why do you think Shyla killed herself, Jack?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know. She started having hallucinations, I know that, but she wouldn’t talk about them. She knew they’d go away eventually. They went away okay. When she went off the bridge.”
“Did she ever tell you about the hallucinations she had as a child?”
“No. She didn’t say a word about the ones she had while she was married. She kept her craziness private.”
“I know what those hallucinations were, Jack.”
I looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t know how to put this more gently. But so what?”
“My mother wants to see you, Jack,” Martha said. “That’s why I’m here. She thinks she knows why Shyla did it. She wants to tell you herself.”
“Ruth,” I said, tasting the word, “Ruth. I used to think she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.”
“She’s getting older.”
“I was in love with your mother when I was growing up.”
“But it was your mother who was the town legend.”
“One feels guilt about lusting after one’s own mother. I felt none lusting after yours.”
“My mother knows they were wrong to try to take Leah away from you. They did it out of grief and fury and fear. My mother knows and my father’ll never admit it, but he knows it too.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow night, Martha,” I said, abruptly. “Come and you can meet your niece.”
Martha pulled my head to her and kissed me on the cheek.
“Leave Pericle behind. You don’t need the son of a bitch any longer.”
Martha blushed as I turned toward the open patio and
“Talked to a rental agent?” I asked. “You could be here for years.”
“I’ve got every right to see Leah. You can’t stop me from that.”
“Yes, I can. And instead of threatening me or challenging me, I’d take on a conciliatory note. I’ve arranged my life so I can leave this city tonight and take up residence in another country with relative ease. I live like a man on the run because I fear encounters such as these. I don’t need you in my life and my daughter certainly doesn’t need you.”
“She’s my niece,” Martha said.
“She’s a lot of people’s niece—I’m perfectly consistent—none of my brothers get to see her, either. I’m raising Leah so she can be screwed up by only one single relative. That’s me. My family’s fucked up and your family’s fucked up. But I carefully devised a life so that this condition of perpetual damage will not pass to my kid.”
“My parents both cry when they talk about Leah. They cry when they realize it’s been so many years since they’ve seen her.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “My heart leaps like a doe in the forest when I think of your parents weeping. They can cry all they want.”
“They say not seeing Leah’s worse than what happened to them during the war.”
“Please,” I said, putting my face into my hands, tiring of theeffort to be pleasant to my wife’s only sister. “In your family, if you talk about mowing the lawn or sewing a button on a shirt or rotating the wheels on a car, you always end up in Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen. Talk about going out for a burger and a milkshake or catching a movie on TV and the next thing you know, bingo, we’re on a cattle car moving through Eastern Europe.”
“I’m really sorry, Jack, if my parents overemphasized the Holocaust in your presence,” Martha shot back angrily. “My parents suffered terribly. They suffer to this very day.”
“They didn’t suffer as much as your sister did,” I answered. “As much as my wife did.”
“How can you make such comparisons?”
“Because Shyla’s dead and your parents are still alive. The way I keep a scorecard, she wins the grand sweepstakes.”
“My father thinks Shyla would never have killed herself if she’d married a Jewish man.”
“And you still wonder why I don’t let my daughter visit your parents?”
“Why do you think Shyla killed herself, Jack?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know. She started having hallucinations, I know that, but she wouldn’t talk about them. She knew they’d go away eventually. They went away okay. When she went off the bridge.”
“Did she ever tell you about the hallucinations she had as a child?”
“No. She didn’t say a word about the ones she had while she was married. She kept her craziness private.”
“I know what those hallucinations were, Jack.”
I looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t know how to put this more gently. But so what?”
“My mother wants to see you, Jack,” Martha said. “That’s why I’m here. She thinks she knows why Shyla did it. She wants to tell you herself.”
“Ruth,” I said, tasting the word, “Ruth. I used to think she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.”
“She’s getting older.”
“I was in love with your mother when I was growing up.”
“But it was your mother who was the town legend.”
“One feels guilt about lusting after one’s own mother. I felt none lusting after yours.”
“My mother knows they were wrong to try to take Leah away from you. They did it out of grief and fury and fear. My mother knows and my father’ll never admit it, but he knows it too.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow night, Martha,” I said, abruptly. “Come and you can meet your niece.”
Martha pulled my head to her and kissed me on the cheek.
“Leave Pericle behind. You don’t need the son of a bitch any longer.”
Martha blushed as I turned toward the open patio and
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