Days of Winter (24 page)

He cried out like a wounded animal. Jeanette was terrified. He tore what was left of Magda’s clothes into shreds. With one sweep of his hand, he knocked everything off the dressing table. The crystal perfume bottles went crashing to the floor … the mirror tilted over and broke into fragments, distorting his image as he looked at himself. He ran through the foyer, and Jeanette cried out, “What’s wrong, Papa?” He neither saw nor heard. Miss Williams picked up the sobbing child and held her. …

“Magda … Magda … why have you done this to me?” Over and over, he asked the same question. He ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the street, screaming her name.

When they finally caught up with him, it took three bobbies to subdue Rubin. He continued to scream out Magda’s name. He began to have delusions. He tried to free himself from the enemies holding him. …He had killed before and he could again. …

A crowd had gathered to watch this crazy, insane man struggling to free himself as a fourth bobbie came running up. Finally, the ambulance came and, with the aid of the attendants, they were able to get Rubin into it and strap him down inside. By the time the ambulance reached the hospital, Rubin had already been sedated. …

When he woke up, he was looking into the eyes of strangers.

“Rubin, Rubin, it’s Leon. …”

They were trying to fool him. …He knew Leon was in a prison camp, and now so was he. …Ssh, play dead. Don’t let them know you’re alive. …

“Rubin, they told us you were here. They found your identification. That was how they knew to call. …”

They were lying …Get out of here you damned Krauts …The doctor gave Rubin another injection to calm him, and finally he was asleep again.

Leon was ashen white as he and Phillip left the room.

“As though Rubin hadn’t been through enough already, now this. …” Phillip held up his hands in a gesture of despair. He knew what he’d done to hurt Rubin … he despised himself. But then he’d had Matilda to contend with. She’d even tried to stop him from seeing Rubin.

“I must go and look after Jeanette,” Leon said. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I’d go if I thought it would do any good, but perhaps it’s better if you go alone. There’ll be less confusion that way. But if there’s anything I can do, please call.”

“Thanks, at least for coming, Phillip.”

“I am Rubin’s brother, after all.”

Leon shook his head. “A shame you didn’t remember that when Father was dying.” And then he was walking down the dimly lit hall, casting a long shadow on the wall.

Miss Williams had seen Magda leave in Alexis’ car. She had been watching from a window. She gave Leon all the details, including Rubin’s behavior. It was, after all, her duty.

Leon thanked her, shaking his head in disbelief. What kind of human being could have done such a thing … could have literally abandoned her child, her husband …? He and Deborah would have given anything to know the blessing of a child, and Magda had given Jeanette up for a man. My God, he thought, like Medea, except she did a complete job … she killed her children. …

He saw the carnage in the bedroom. He saw the open letter from Magda, which he picked up and read. When he finished reading he felt ill. Rubin had been willing to give up his life, and for this?

Jeanette was sleeping. Leon instructed Miss Williams to get both the child’s things and her own ready to move to the Leon Hacks’. “She, and you, will live with us until we decide what to do. …”

He picked up Jeanette and carried her down. In her sleep she called out, “Papa.” Leon, getting into the car, said, “Yes, my baby … yes.”

“Are you up to talking about what happened?” Deborah was saying to Leon in their bedroom.

“Yes, but I don’t know where to begin, the story is so incredible. The fact is, Magda has gone off, she’s left Rubin.”

Deborah was speechless. It was indeed incredible. Finally, she found her voice. “Leon, I don’t understand—”

“Neither do I, but the shock of her leaving must have been too great for him. He’s gone … well, a little mad.” He would not describe the terrifying scene at the hospital.

“You mean he’s had a … a nervous breakdown?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, dear God … how serious is it?”

“We don’t really know, but he seems to be quite ill.” And then he did tell her about the letter Magda had left and about Alexis.

“Oh, yes,” said Deborah. “I met him once with Magda, he helped her go on the stage. …Well, you did the right thing bringing the child here. We’ll care for her like our own till Rubin’s better. …”

“Yes … tomorrow Phillip and I are going to have Rubin taken to a private sanatorium. I’ll look after the apartment while he’s away. This is the time Rubin needs all the love and understanding we can give him. …”

Poor Rubin. Who can really console him …? I used to like Magda, I really did … I defended her to the family, and I refused to speak against her. After all, she was Rubin’s wife. But I must say this changes my feelings. …I’m not blaming her for taking a tremendous dislike to Maurice and the rest of the family, she was treated so shabbily. But on the other hand … a husband, and a child …

In the three months Rubin had been at the sanatorium, his behavior had changed. He no longer lived in a world of delirium. He recognized Leon, but sometimes Leon almost wished that Rubin had never left his world of fantasy, because his depressions seemed even worse than his delusions. He sat for hours in a chair, without moving or speaking. Leon tried to cheer him up. …He told Rubin about Jeanette, about how much she missed him, and how she constantly spoke of “Papa.” But Rubin just stared into space as though nothing mattered. …

Leon shielded Rubin from the fact that he and Deborah had encountered much pressure and criticism from the family for taking Jeanette in. Magda’s scandalous behavior only reinforced their distaste for the child … Magda’s child. Sylvia and Matilda pointed out to Deborah that fact of life.

Phillip, to his credit, argued with Matilda that Jeanette was hardly responsible for her mother, but Matilda would have none of it. “I don’t understand you, Phillip. This child is as great an embarrassment to us as her dreadful mother was. She’s a constant reminder. And if Deborah sends her to Ramsgate, our children will not attend.”

“You’re being very unkind. Jeanette has neither a father nor a mother, and if it weren’t for Deborah and Leon, God only knows what would have become of her.”

“I find all this very touching,” said Matilda, “but may I remind you of a few things? To start with, if Rubin hadn’t married that slut, none of this would have happened. But he did, and it’s for him to take the full responsibility for the girl, and not force her down our throats. Our children should not have to grow up with such a stigma. And while we’re on the subject, would you explain to me this sudden about-face in your attitude toward your brother?”

“What he did no longer matters … I remember Father saying that we wouldn’t like to suffer his dreams. Rubin’s already been through enough hell, and I’m not going on with this vendetta.”

“Well, you lost an arm. What did Rubin go through that a million others didn’t? And you weren’t too opposed to Maurice’s plan at the time. You certainly went along with him.”

“I did, and I’ve despised myself for it ever since. I did a terrible thing to Rubin, but I won’t hurt him any more—”

“That’s very noble, Phillip. But let me tell you something. If you want me to be your wife … I mean, in the true sense of the word, then I would caution you. I won’t accept this child in my house any more than I would have accepted her deplorable mother. I hope we understand each other.” Matilda walked out and slammed the door.

Phillip buried his face in his hands. It seemed to him that Matilda’s righteous indignation was just as callous and calculating as any behavior of Magda’s. How could Matilda—or anyone—reject this child so totally on grounds that had nothing to do with the child? Where was his wife’s compassion, her maternal instinct? Still, she was his wife, and in spite of it all she would have to come first.

He remembered going to see Rubin with Leon when he’d been in the sanatorium only a month. The only time Rubin had spoken was when he saw Phillip come in. Rubin had gotten up from his chair and had actually lunged at Phillip, screaming, “Get out! I don’t want to see you again … you made me lose my wife. …” It took an injection to calm him down, to provide Phillip with
his
escape.

Tonight, Phillip could find no place to hide.

Life for the Hacks had indeed changed. When the holidays came, the family was divided. At the Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur services, Deborah, Leon and Jeanette sat in a separate pew. The other Hacks sat in their customary places. Deborah and Leon were excluded from all family dinners and functions. They had taken over, in a way, the old roles of Rubin and Magda as family pariahs. However painful Deborah found this situation, she accepted it. Except for Leon, Jeanette had become the most important person in the world to her. As the months passed, Deborah came to love Jeanette as though she was her own. Jeanette, however, did not go to Ramsgate. Not because of the threats, but because Deborah refused to send her to a school where Magda’s reputation would be an indirect factor. What pleased Deborah most, though, was the way Jeanette seemed to have adjusted to her new environment.

What Deborah did not know was how Jeanette secretly cried herself to sleep at night. She could not forget Magda. She dreamed about her mother. In her mind, she could still see her getting dressed to go out, remember the smell of her perfume. Life had become very confusing. She loved her mother, and yet she could not understand why Mama had never kept her promise to send her the postcards. And why was Mama gone for so long? Whenever she asked Uncle Leon or Aunt Deborah they gave her some vague, funny answer and changed the subject. She also missed Papa, desperately. And she couldn’t understand why her other relatives passed her by on their way to and from temple. When she attended Sunday School, her cousins wouldn’t speak to her, although she longed to know them.

One night at dinner Jeanette asked, “Uncle Leon, when am I going to see Papa?”

“Soon, darling.”

“But you’ve been saying that for such a long time.”

“But this time, it’s sooner than you think. This time, it’s next week.”

Jeanette counted the days. When the right day finally came, she stood at the window until she saw the car. Then she ran to the front door and opened it. Leon got out first, followed by Rubin, who was very weak and unsure of himself. He had recovered to the point that the doctors wanted him to live in a more natural atmosphere, but he was far from well. Leon had been warned that Rubin would have lapses into depression from time to time. The best therapy would be being occupied, and during the last few months Rubin had taken up painting again.

“Papa … Papa!” Jeanette ran outdoors and into Rubin’s arms. At first he couldn’t respond. She looked exactly like Magda. Then, suddenly he lifted her high off the ground and held her tight against him. After that, Jeanette wouldn’t leave her father’s side for a moment. She loved Aunt Deborah and Uncle Leon, but not like Papa. With him she felt so safe that it didn’t even matter if her cousins or her aunts and uncles didn’t like her. Papa wouldn’t let them be mean to her. …

As the weeks went by, Rubin began to think about the future and decided to have a talk with Leon. He waited until the two of them were alone. “Leon, I’ve been thinking … the time’s coming when I must find a place for myself and Jeanette.”

Leon was shocked. Rubin wasn’t ready to take care of Jeanette. He was scarcely able to take care of his own needs. “I’m happy you feel strong enough, Rubin, but I would suggest that you stay with us a little longer—”

“No, Leon. I’ve thought this out carefully. I must get on with making a home for Jeanette.”

“How would you earn a living?”

“Well, I have always loved to paint and I believe I could make a fair living at that. Some of my recent canvasses are good enough to sell, and I believe someone would be willing to handle my work. …”

Leon got up and walked to the window. Who would handle Rubin, much less buy his work, he thought, but he answered quietly, “In the meantime, though, how could you support yourself and the child? I’m more than willing to help out, but you’ve rejected my offer to help—”

“I’ve got the money left from the sale of the furnishings.”

“But that’s not enough to last you for any length of time. And, painful as this might be for you, Jeanette needs the comfort of a mother. Deborah’s been able to provide that. Jeanette is only five now, but soon she’ll be growing up. Why not stay here a little while? When you’re feeling yourself again and not so tired we’ll look for another small business—”

“No, I don’t want to go into business, Leon. I don’t want to be with people. What I want to do is
paint
.”

“All right, Rubin. We’ll have the top floor made into a studio and you can paint there.”

“
No
, I want my own home—”

“But how would you cook … clean? You have a child, after all.”

“I know. And I have the need to try to find my self-respect.”

How could one argue with that? “All right … we’ll find a place for you. But will you agree to this? Will you leave Jeanette with us until you’re settled?” He was asking
until
, but he meant
forever
.

Rubin thought carefully about the child his life now revolved around, and he knew he couldn’t reasonably disagree with what Leon proposed. And he would, after all, be near her, even though she lived with Deborah and Leon. …At least he could see her and spend time with her. They could go to synagogue on Saturdays and spend the day … on Sunday they could go out to the country on picnics … there was the theater. …If he truly loved her as he said he did, then she must continue to stay with Deborah and Leon.

The next day Rubin found a shabby attic room. When Leon complained that it wasn’t adequate, Rubin said he felt thoroughly comfortable there and that the light was good for his work. Leon said no more. …

I
T WAS DAWN. MAGDA
stood at the French doors in her bedroom, looking out. Even the Seine, which could be seen from her window, seemed restive. Hers was a restlessness she was familiar with. …Her dreams had been turbulent, angry … she tried to clear her head.