Wednesday the Rabbi got wet

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Rose Aptaker was too tired to prepare a proper meal for herself, so she boiled a couple of eggs and afterward heated up the morning's coffee, she had opened the store at half past eight and operated it herself until nine, when Ross McLane arrived. Fortunately, no one had asked to have a prescription filled. If a customer had come for a prescription, she would have had to tell them that the pharmacist would not be in until later and that they would deliver it in the afternoon.

At noon she took half an hour off and went home for a sandwich and a cup of coffee; then back to the store, where she was on her feet all day until six; then to the hospital to see her husband and to assure him that everything was fine; then back to the store until they closed, she had not felt like eating at six, but had stopped off at a coffee shop for more coffee and a doughnut, and that sustained her until she returned home. But now she was too tired to broil the lamp chops she had bought for her supper.

She heard the car pull into the driveway but was too tired to move. Only when the doorbell rang did she go to the door. It was Arnold, he was flanked on either side by a large suitcase. "I'm here, Mom," he announced.

"So you're here," she said, she offered her cheek as he embraced her and then stood aside for him to enter.

It was not as he had expected it would be, as he drove through the night, he had imagined her hugging and kissing him, murmuring "Thank God, you've come back to us." He concealed his disappointment, however, and brought his bags into the hallway. It occurred to him that they had never been demonstrative with each other and that it did not mean that he was not welcome.

"How's Dad?" he asked. "He's all right. Have you eaten?" "Yeah, I ate on the road." "So a cup of coffee, maybe?" "All right."

"It's from this morning," she warned. "I cook up a whole pot in the morning and then—"

"Fine, as long as it's hot. This morning's coffee will be fine."

His mother turned up the flame, the coffee did not take long to become hot, since she had heated it for herself only a little while before, she poured him a cup and sat down heavily opposite him.

"You're tired," Arnold said.

"Yes, I'm a little tired. I've been on my feet the whole day. It was busy today, thank God."

He sipped at his coffee in silence and then he pushed it away from him.

"You don't like it,” she declared.

"I like it fine but I’ve been stopping on the road every couple of hours, drinking coffee. I guess maybe I’ve had too much. Now what's the story on Dad?"

She took a deep breath. "What can I tell you? He's had a heart attack. You know what that means, he's got to take it easy, and he's not supposed to fret or worry, that's what the doctor says. How a man in business lying flat on his back while his wife tries to operate the store is not going to worry he doesn't say. When I go to see him, the first thing he asks me is how's things at the store, and each time I tell him we're getting along fine. So who's kidding who?"

"Well, I'm here now, and he can relax. I'll go see him tomorrow and tell him that I'm here for as long as he needs me. I moved out of my apartment and sold my furniture. I brought all my stuff."

"It will help, I'm sure. But—" "But what?"

Suddenly, the anxiety and the weariness were too much for her, although she compressed her lips to keep from sobbing, she could not prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

"Aw, Ma. What's the matter?"

She wiped away the tears with her fingertips and then abruptly went to the hallway table where she had left her pocketbook, to get a handkerchief.

"What is it. Ma? What's the trouble? Is there something you're holding back from me?"

"I— I know I shouldn't say anything. I should be thankful, but— "Suddenly her vexation overcame her weakness. "Look at you," she cried out. "You'll go to your father and tell him that you'll take charge, and he'll see you with the hair and the beard and the patched clothes, where he is so neat and clean. You'll tell him he can relax now, like the doctor tells him he shouldn't worry, that's all he'll need to relax is your telling him."

"Look here, my beard and the way I dress, that's my business."

"Sure, I know, the beard you'll tell me is for religion, and the clothes, that's for freedom and independence, and the boots? My grandfather, I got a picture of him from the old country, and he was wearing boots, but it was because of the mud and the snow, and if your father tells you he doesn't want you working in the store dressed like that and with a beard, you'll come home maybe and tell me that you gave him a chance and that he didn't take it and that you're going back to Philadelphia. Or maybe he'll think of how hard I'm working and won't say anything but just lie there and worry about it."

"All right, all right,” he shouted. "I'll go to the barber tomorrow and tell him to cut my hair like a bank clerk. I’ve got regular clothes; I'll put them on. Even a white shirt. I'll go there in a tuxedo if you like."

"Oh, Arnold. It'll be like medicine to him."