Out of respect for Con’s parents, and especially for Gladys, of whom she had become increasingly fond, Debbie agreed that Con’s funeral and burial should be in New York. It was the Rabins’ first visit to a Catholic funeral, and all four — Josh having come home for the High Holidays — saw for the first time a dead body laid out in an open casket. Jewish ritual did not sanction open viewing of the deceased. Debbie was reluctant at first to gaze upon Con’s lifeless body but, again yielding to her in-laws’ feelings, looked briefly at the expressionless yet peaceful face and indulged in memories, colored by a range of emotions. She wondered why this experience — this opportunity for reflection — should be denied to Jewish mourners.
Over the lunch that followed the burial Debbie’s mother, Esther, invited the Flynns to Philadelphia, to share in a family meal in their sukkah. The festival of sukkoth, a weeklong harvest celebration, she explained, begins just five days after Yom Kippur. To her surprise, Mike declared himself familiar with it, having that very week attended a kiddush in a sukkah locally, courtesy of a co-worker.
“But Gladys missed out on that experience,” he said, “and we’ve never had an entire meal in one. We’d love to come.” Gladys didn’t have a chance to object, though she had misgivings about a celebration that seemed disrespectful to her recently buried son.
Two days later they were on their way to Philadelphia, glad to get away from the sadness and hoping that the new adventure would dull their sense of loss.
The Rabins’ sukkah was considerably smaller than the communal one Al had shown Mike, but it exuded the same fragrance and was just as generously decorated. Gladys was impressed — entranced — not only with the physical structure but the very concept of “living” so close to nature (right in your own backyard!). What a stroke of genius to place this joyful holiday less than a week behind the solemnity of the Day of Atonement! To be sure, in her own faith, Easter was just two days after Good Friday, but those two days were connected by one individual’s history and could not logically be separated. There was no obvious connection that she could see between the two Jewish holidays, yet the power of anticipation had to make it easier to withstand the rigors of a day of never-ending prayer and no food or drink.
Gladys asked a question that should have been on everyone’s mind. “What happens if it rains?”
Max laughed. “In the ‘old country,’ meaning Israel, they probably don’t worry too much about that, because it hardly ever rains. Here, of course, it happens all the time. Some people have a large plywood roof they can lower on top of this one; we just cover the table and chairs with a large plastic sheet. We don’t worry about a damp floor.”
Esther informed the visitors regretfully that Josh could not attend because he had been called away on a medical emergency. She was acutely aware of his absence because the festival many years ago had been so meaningful for him and Eden. When the meal was well underway she decided to share the memory with her guests.
“It was Eden’s first, and she loved it so much I think we could have converted her right there and then. Except that Jews don’t try to convert anybody. Your being here on this occasion means a lot to our family. Gosh, how many years has it been? Josh would probably be able to tell you exactly, but let’s just say it’s been a long time. He was in his senior year at high school, and something was brewing between the two of them. Up to that point she just was Debbie’s friend. Best friend, I dare say, right, Debbie?” Debbie’s eyes were moist and she nodded without saying a word. Esther reached across the table and took Debbie’s hand. “I’m sorry, darling, I know it hurts, especially on top of what you’re going through now, but it’s part of your history too and I think it would help for Gladys and Mike to know it.” She looked at her guests, whose expressions indicated clearly that they were unaware.
“Anyway,” Esther continued, “the two fell in love and after that evening it was hard to keep them apart. We went to Europe after his graduation, and you should have seen how they fell over each other when we got back. Not the slightest embarrassment, for there was no need. You see, Eden was a simply lovely girl and, in a manner of speaking, we were all in love with her. There’s lots more, but what I wanted you to know is that Eden was not Jewish, but we didn’t mind in the least, knowing her as a person. So you see we’ve always been tolerant in the area of religion — even before Debbie and Con met. The only qualms we ever had about Debbie’s marriage had to do with being ready for lifelong commitment, you know, the things parents usually worry about.”
Mike asked, “Did Josh and Eden get married? And how did that work out?”
Esther took a few seconds to answer. “No. We all thought they would. I might even say they should have. But it was not to be.”
In the pause following this statement, Mike asked, “How come?” He expected — hoped — that the Rabins had, barely in time, realized that interfaith marriage was wrong. The answer took him by surprise.
“Eden had a strong allergy to penicillin. She scraped her knee, it became infected, she developed sepsis, and a young doctor in the hospital — an intern fresh out of medical school, inexperienced and inadequately supervised — gave her penicillin without asking about allergies. She went into anaphylactic shock and died.”
“Oh my God!” Gladys’s hand flew to her mouth. “How dreadful! How sad. And those young people so in love!”
Mike nodded, then said, “Some people might say it was God’s punishment for crossing the line. Do you believe that?”
Max spoke up for the first time. “We believe it was a medical error.”
“No, I didn’t mean to . . . ,” Mike stammered, “. . . imply it was God’s punishment, just that some people might think so.”
“OK, Mike, OK,” Gladys said, placing a hand on Mike’s arm. “Just drop it.”
“Sorry,” Mike said, face downcast. “I guess I’m not quite myself these days.”
“We understand,” Esther assured him. “You’ve also suffered a terrible loss.”
“We all have,” Debbie added.
Mike raised his head and looked directly at everyone at the table in turn, Debbie last.
“I’ve been meaning to say this for a while now,” he began, “thinking a lot about it. I may have trouble expressing myself, so I hope you’ll be patient with me.” There was a collective holding of breath, ending with a collective gasp when he continued: “I owe you all an apology. His eyes swept the company and met frowns of incomprehension.
“To whom do you owe an apology, and for what?” Esther asked.
“Everyone, but mostly Debbie — and my late son Con.”
“I don’t understand,” Debbie broke the silence. “What have you done? To me or to Con?”
“Well, for one thing, I’ve never been nice to you, or treated you with the respect you deserve. And I’m making this confession in the presence of your parents, because they must be aware, yet never said an unkind word to me.”
Gladys looked on with an expression somewhere between unbelieving and appalled. Her jaw appeared frozen half-shut. Obviously her husband’s words surprised her as much as they did the others. Esther, hearing the word confession, wondered whether Mike had confessed to his priest, but she did not ask. Max decided on a different approach, one that could not be construed as provocative.
“Mike,” he said gently, “does this have to do with religion?”
“In part yes. I’m well aware how open-minded you are about religion, and to be honest I admire you for it. If you ever had a problem with Con marrying into your family, I don’t remember him ever saying anything about it. I do remember he was crazy about Debbie, so he wouldn’t want to give me an excuse for stopping him.
“I was the one with the problem. Not Gladys, just me. It’s the way I was raised. Our church teaches it too.”
“But you don’t need to apologize to us for your church’s teaching,” Max said. “Besides, Debbie and Con got married, so no damage!”
“It’s my attitude, you see. In my heart I never welcomed Debbie, and I’m terribly sorry for that. She’s a really good person.” After a short silence, during which the others wondered whether a rejoinder was in order, Mike added, “There’s the hemophilia, of course.”
Esther placed both hands on the table and looked Mike in the eye. “I can’t imagine why you would bring that up except to blame Debbie. She had no idea she was a carrier, and neither did I. There’s a gap in our family history that we haven’t filled. My mother was adopted when both her parents died in the 1918 flu pandemic. She was barely two years old. Obviously she too was a carrier and somewhere in the past there must have been a bleeder in the family. And it upsets me that you mention hemophilia when we’re talking about religion. Just how sincere is your apology to Debbie? For a while I thought we were healing a wound, but I have to ask you, do you think there’s a link?”
“What link?”
“Between religion and hemophilia.”
“Isn’t it a Jewish disease?”
Gladys thought it was time to put a stop to this. “Mike, you know that’s utter nonsense. Didn’t they teach you about the Russian tsar and Queen Victoria?”
“Like what?” Mike, seemingly forgetting an altercation with Con on the same topic years before, was becoming belligerent, but fortunately his anger was directed at his wife, not their hosts.
“The last tsar before the revolution,” Esther interjected, “had a son with hemophilia, which he obviously inherited from the tsarina, his mother — just like Debbie and I did from ours. In their case it came from the family of Queen Victoria of England. You know, of course, that those royals like to marry other royals. Keeps the royal blood pure.”
That was Max’s cue. “Sometimes so pure it won’t clot.” Light laughter scattered around the table. “Anyway, we’re not related to any royals, but we do have hemophilia in common — despite our religious difference.”
Debbie did not laugh. Esther, seeing her daughter’s expression, realized that her daughter had precious little reason to be amused with all this talk about hemophilia. For her, the loss of her husband and her son’s lifelong handicap left no room for entertainment at their expense. “Excuse me,” she said, “I think it’s time for us to go. The boys have school tomorrow. Thanks for the dinner, Mom and Dad. We’ll see you soon.”
Nodding briefly to Gladys and Mike, she took her sons and left. When they were out of earshot, Esther said in a whisper, “My God, how insensitive of us. I’m so sorry. Now it’s our turn to apologize.”
Next morning she discovered a necktie that one of her grandsons must have taken off and hung over the back of a chair. She phoned Debbie.
“Hi, there. One of your sons is missing a tie. I hope he has a spare for school.”
Debbie laughed. “You obviously don’t know whose it is. Well, I don’t either. They switch back and forth as the mood dictates. Anyway, could you slip it in an envelope and mail it to us? I assume it’s worth more than the postage.”
“I have a better idea,” Esther answered. “Come down and have dinner with us again. Leftovers, naturally. We want to talk.”
“Will Gladys and Mike be there too?”
“No. It’s you we want to talk to. And no distractions. But bring the boys.”
“Let me talk with them, and I’ll get back to you.”
The boys agreed, visions of another meal in the sukkah dancing before their eyes.
There was no tension at the table this time. No one seemed to have an agenda other than returning the tie to its rightful owner, whoever that might be. But Esther’s true motive made its appearance together with a pot of freshly brewed tea with dessert. She looked questioningly at Max and he nodded agreement.
“Dad and I’ve been talking about how your life will be changed,” she said. “You could stay where you are, be a single mother, and continue your job at the library. You’re certainly capable of doing all that, and the boys would adjust. They’re old enough to take care of themselves. But we’d like you to consider moving to Philadelphia — moving in with us for as long as you like. We’re not putting pressure on you, just inviting you. There’s nothing for you in Edison really — except a house to maintain. In Philadelphia you’d have everything. There’d be work for you, and medical facilities to spare — without a long commute. We don’t doubt for a moment that the boys would qualify for Central High, which was good enough for Josh and will prepare both C.J. and Chris for college.”
Max couldn’t resist an opportunity. “You might even want to marry again. And there’d be a much better selection of men here than in the Jersey boonies.”
Debbie was dumbfounded. “I had no idea,” she said when she finally found her voice. A smile broke out on her face. “What a wonderful and generous offer. And Gladys and Mike would still only be a train ride away, so we can all stay in touch. Of course, if we did come here, it would only be for as long as it takes us to find our own place. But we ought to think about it a while.”
Debbie turned to the boys. “What do you think, fellas?”
Chris took the bait. “Does the sukkah stay up all year?”
There was a communal howl of laughter. “No,” Max said, “this is only for the festival of Sukkoth. But after it’s down you can build your own right here, and you can sleep in it whenever you want, summer and winter.”
“Sounds good!” C.J. added with gusto.
And a new life began for Debbie and her children.