Thursday The Rabbi Walked Out

19

THE RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE AWAKENED OLD MRS. MANdell. Not that she had been asleep, for she insisted that she never really slept Just kind of dozed. It had interrupted a dream—well, not really a dream, since dreams were a function of sleep. Rather a kind of fantasy that would come to her whenever she dozed off, although there were variations in detail, the general theme was the same; how things would be if She (which was the way she referred to her daughter-in-law) were gone. Occasionally, the dream was about the nature of her leaving—a fatal accident, a drowning, perhaps, in which Herbert had displayed tremendous courage in his effort to rescue her, he would be grief-stricken, of course, but it would have the effect of drawing him closer to his mother; after a while, he would get over the sense of loss, but still the memory of the tragedy would deter him from marrying again.

Then there followed a series of vignettes of their blissful life together when there were only the two of them, at breakfast—she was sure she'd be able to manage—and he would exclaim over its excellence. "Gee. Ma, this coffee, it's out of this world, and this oatmeal! How do you get it so smooth and creamy?" And when he left for work, ha would buss her bovishlv and say. "Now you take it easv, sweetheart. Leave the dishes, and I'll do them when I get home." For dinner she would prepare his favorite foods, the rich and spicy dishes he enjoyed so much, and afterward they would spend the evening watching TV or playing endless games of Scrabble, which she adored.

She did not want him to feel that he was obligated to her and would suggest. "Why don't you go out and visit your friends, herbert? Take out a girl. I don't really mind an evening alone." And he would answer. "Why, Ma, you're my best girl."

Or it might be that She was no longer there because he had divorced her, he had finally realized that She was unworthy of him and that he could not continue to live with her.

Then she might picture him as remarried. His new wife was a shadowy figure, vaguely resembling a buxom Polish maid she had once had, who would give birth almost every year, all boys, and all looking like Herbert, they would crowd around their grandmother, each like one of the pictures of Herbert, at different ages, as he was growing up, pushing and jostling each other to claim her attention. "Grandma, look at me." Herbert would be beside her and would good-naturedly push them away with. "Go on and play. You're tiring Grandma." Their mother never appeared in any of these scenes, with so large a brood, she was naturally busy, cleaning, cooking, washing dishes—

She heard Molly answer the phone but could not hear what She said, of course, she lay in bed debating whether to put on the light and read for a while, or try to go back to sleep, or maybe even get up and go downstairs for a cup of tea. Before she could come to a decision, she heard footsteps on the stairs, slow, careful footsteps, and then the door of her bedroom quietly opened, she pretended to be asleep, the door closed and the footsteps retreated down the stairs, a little later, she heard the sound of an automobile starting up, seemingly right below her window. Mystified, she got out of bed, went to the window and cautiously drew back the curtain just in time to see Molly's coupe ease down the driveway.

Where could She be going? Had something happened to Herbert? Had the call come from the temple? But what could happen to him in the temple?

Mrs. Mandell snicked on her bed lamp and looked at her watch. It was a little after half past eight. Gathering a kimono around her, she went downstairs, the lights in tha living room were still on, and she padded about in her mules, looking at the papers on the desk where She had been typing. It occurred to her that She might have gone to mail something. But why now? The next collection would not be made until tomorrow morning, and it couldn't be to buy something, like cigarettes or a magazine at the drugstore, all the stores were closed by this time. Besides, her leaving must have something to do with the phone call She had received. Some friends must have called her and—could it have been a man friend? Was She taking advantage of Herbert's being at the temple to meet a lover?

Mrs. Mandell felt faint at the idea and thought she had better get back to her own room to take a pill, to lie down if necessary, the more she thought about it, the stronger grew the probability of her daughter-in-law's unfaithfulness. Curiously, it had not been one of the scenarios that she had fantasized as a means of ending the marriage, because—because in her mind it would make her son look ridiculous. But now she thought about it because she had to. What should she do? How should she proceed? Of course, if Herbert came home first, that would take care of it. On her return, he would confront her and demand an explanation. But what if She got back first?

She heard a car turn into the quiet street, her breast filled with a great hope that it might be her son. But a glance at the clock showed that it was a little after nine, too early for him to be coming home from the temple. It must be She returning.

Gripping the handrail, she hurriedly mounted the stairs and got back into bed, a few minutes later the car pulled into the driveway, and shortly after she again heard footsteps on the stairs and then the door of her room being eased open, again she pretended to be asleep, breathing deeply and stertorously until she heard the door pulled to and footsteps retreating down the stairs.