Rina stared at him, not angry, just weary. “He just about moved in after Yitzchak fell ill. He read to him when Yitzy’s sight failed, he carried him from room to room when he couldn’t walk, he fed him…bathed him…put on Yitzy’s tephillin, oh God-”
She looked away, attempting to hold back tears.
“Towards the end, Yitzy became a twenty-four-hour job. I had two small children who didn’t know what was flying…only that their father…Bram took care of Yitzchak so I could take care of them. So I could catch my breath! There were times…if Bram hadn’t been there…I think I might have gone insane.”
No one spoke.
Decker threw up his hands. “Where were his Jewish friends? Where were your parents, where were his parents, for godsakes?”
Rina wiped her eyes. “They all came to visit…his friends, the rabbaim. All of them. And lots of them. Faithfully. But eventually they all went home. Because they had families, Peter. They had lives.”
“Bram didn’t have a life?”
“He was unattached. I think he had just graduated seminary or was about to graduate. He hadn’t taken his orders yet, that much I remember.”
“At loose ends?”
“I suppose. I never questioned his motivation. They had been friends before Yitzchak fell ill. Two scholars on the opposite sides of the fence. Looking back, I now realize how much Yitzy enjoyed those intellectual debates. Brought fire to his eyes…Bram’s, too.”
Then Decker remembered something the priest had told him about an old friend. The passion in his voice.
We used to spend hours together, arguing about God. I loved him like a brother. Then one day he took sick. Ten months later, he was dead.
One of those once-in-a-lifetime relationships, forged from something that defied rational explanation. Just as he’d had with his old war buddy, Abel.
Rina clutched her hands, looked at her husband. “As far as my parents lending me a hand…they were more work than help. They couldn’t deal with the situation. Neither could Yitzy’s parents. Something we both recognized at the onset of his illness. Not that I blamed any of them…four concentration camp survivors…it was too much. So Yitzy made a decision to keep his parents in New York because he couldn’t stand to see the suffering in their faces.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“We kept them at bay, telling them things were better than they were…until the final weeks…when we couldn’t lie anymore.”
Spontaneously, Decker brought his wife to his chest and hugged her tightly. She embraced him back, swayed to his rocking, allowing herself comfort from the man she loved.
The swing door opened again. Rina broke away, dabbed her cheeks.
Bram’s eyes rested on Rina’s face, then moved on to Decker’s. Something had passed between them-a glance that bespoke deeper things. An evaluation of his worth as Yitzchak’s replacement? A longing for what might have been? Or maybe exhaustion and irritability were pushing his imagination into overdrive.
Decker maintained eye contact with the priest. “You spoke beautifully, Father. A very eloquent eulogy.”
“Thank you.” Bram nodded somberly. “Even though words fail to express what’s in your heart, you try your best. Thank you for coming.”
The door opened again. The maid returning with empty plates. She saw Bram. “¿Usted quiere comida, Padre?”
“Nada, Bonita. Gracias. No tengo hambre ahora.”
“¿Señor?” She looked at Decker.
“Nada, gracias.”
The maid shrugged, her eyes saying, I can’t give the stuff away. She went back to the counter and reloaded the platter.
Bram pushed hair off his face. “The man who sold my father his first motorcycle is here. His name is…no joke…Grease Pit. He and his leathered entourage just walked through the door.”
“Are they creating problems?” Decker asked.
“Not at all. I was just wondering if you’d like an introduction.”
“Yes, thank you.” Decker swallowed the wrong way and began to cough. “And…can…you introduce…”
He broke into a spasm of hacking. Rina banged his back. “Are you okay?”
“S’cuse…” The two maids were holding large platters of cookies. Coughing, Decker moved out of their way.
“Gracias.” They walked out of the kitchen.
Decker coughed, held up a finger. “Your…mother…”
“I’d be happy to introduce you to her,” Bram said. “Let me get you something to drink.” He walked over to the counter and began to pour punch into glasses. The kitchen door opened yet another time, reminding Decker of the old Ernie Kovacs skit…person after person coming out from the bathtub.
It was Paul and he was fuming, eyes going a mile a minute. So focused on his ire, he didn’t notice Decker or Rina, just headed straight for his brother.
To Bram’s back, he shouted, “He’s drunk! He’s saying vicious things! And I’m about to lose my cool! Rein him in now, Bram!”
Eva barged in. “Bram, you’ve got to do something about Luke. He’s upsetting Mother!”
Pink-cheeked, Bram said, “We’ve got company, people.”
Paul pivoted, eyelids fluttering like wings when he spotted Decker. Eva’s pale face had reddened. Bram walked back to Decker, handed him a glass of punch. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”
“Of course.” It came out a hoarse whisper. Decker drank and cleared his throat. “I’ll just wait outside.”
“Thank you.”
Decker smiled, took Rina’s arm, and led her back into the living room. He cleared his throat again. “Well, that was pretty ugly.”
Rina said nothing.
Decker’s eyes scanned the room. Casually, he said, “Do you know the family, too?”
“No, just Bram.”
“Never met any of his siblings…his parents?”
“Once.” Rina hugged herself. “Before Yitzchak became ill Bram invited us to his twenty-fifth birthday party-he and his two brothers, Luke and Paul. You know he’s a triplet?”
“Yes.”
“He’s also an identical twin with Luke.”
“Yes, I know that as well.”
The one who’s drunk and is saying vicious things and is upsetting Mom.
Decker prodded. “What was it like? The birthday party.”
“I don’t remember too much. I do recall sticking out rather pointedly among all the church ladies. I didn’t talk much.”
“Where was Yitzchak?”
“Talking to the men. Not that there was a formal mechitza. But there was an invisible one.”
“The sexes were separated?”
“Informally, yes.”
Offhandedly, he asked, “You recall any of his siblings? Surely he introduced you to them.”
“I’m sure he did. But I don’t remember anyone too well except Bram…and Luke. And that’s only because he looked like Bram.”
“Did you meet the doctor?”
Rina thought. “Yes, I remember his father. A very…dignified-looking man. Very regal. But stiff.”
“Goyishe?”
“You said it, not me.” Rina looked up. “I owe him big, though. When Yitzchak fell ill, he gave us referrals. I never spoke to him directly. It was all through Bram.”
“Bram set up the appointments?”
“No, I set up the appointments, but Bram gave me the numbers. Looking back, Dr. Sparks must have made some prior phone calls. Because we got red carpet treatment.”
“What about Bram’s mother? Did you meet her?”
“I suppose I did although I don’t have a clear memory of her. I believe she, like most women, spent most of the time in the kitchen, supervising the food and help. There was a ton of food, none of which we could eat. Too bad because it looked good. And it was also a topic of conversation. ‘You’re not eating, dear? Are you feeling all right, dear?’” Rina smiled. “They all thought I was pregnant.”
Decker smiled back. “Everyone seem to get along?”
“I wasn’t paying any attention. Too busy being painfully uncomfortable. Can we stop talking about the past?”
Decker was quiet. “I’m treading on sensitive ground here.”