Illusions of Love (8 page)

“I know. But what else could I do? Well, anyway, while I was munching my corned beef sandwich I decided he was damned attractive. And then I said to myself, this has to be more than a coincidence. Why else would I have dropped that box at that particular moment on the head of someone who was both Jewish and handsome. Do you believe in fate?”

Martin thought about it for a long moment.

“I’m not really sure. Do you?”

“I don’t have a doubt. By the time we finished, I was terribly smitten with him and when he asked me if he could see me again I didn’t hesitate, though my hand shook as I wrote my name and number on a matchbox cover. Are you sure I’m not boring you?”

“I’m sure. Goon.”

“Well, when I got back to Aunt Blanche’s, I found he’d called. I called back and made a date for dinner that night. We went to a marvelous little Italian restaurant in the Fifties and, well, Martin, what can I say?”

“What did your aunt say about all this?”

“I didn’t tell her about it … I mean, about how we’d met. She’d have been appalled. After one phone call to California I would have been shipped out on the first train. Oh, what else could I do, Martin? I lied and said he was from Princeton.”

“Well, you’re resourceful, Sylvia. I’ll say that.”

She looked at him strangely.

“What kind of thing is that to say to me?”

“No, I really meant it in the most complimentary way.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“Thank you … I think. Well, anyway, after the pasta and that first glass of red wine, I knew Maury Orloffwas for me.”

While Sylvia took a sip of champagne, Martin asked, “Do people fall in love just like that?”

“That’s what the songs say.”

“Maybe, but don’t two people have to get to know one another better?”

“Not when the chemistry is right, Martin. People can know one another all their lives and never fall in love. Look at you and me.”

“Well, that’s a little different. It would be like incest.”

Sylvia took another sip of champagne.

“If I tell you a secret, promise not to laugh?”

“Scout’s honour.”

“I was wildly, madly in love with you.”

“You were?” he answered, secretly pleased.

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. When you’re thirteen and terrified that the object of your affection is going to find out, you act in a lot of strange ways.”

“I would have never guessed you felt that way about me.”

“Well, I did. But that was ages ago.”

Martin wasn’t all that pleased at the way she relegated her affection for him to the past, but he smiled and asked, “Where do you go from here?”

“Either the family accepts him or else.”

“You mean it’s that serious?”

“It’s that serious,” she said, suddenly on the verge of tears.

If there was one thing that Martin couldn’t abide, it was a woman crying. For an unfathomable reason he felt responsible no matter what the cause of her tears. Worse than responsible, he felt guilty.

Handing her his handkerchief, he said, “Please don’t cry, Sylvia. I hate to see you unhappy.”

She looked up as a tear spilled down her cheek.

“Do you really?”

“Well, of course I do, for God’s sake!”

She blew her nose and said, “I suppose I’m just sort of confused. It seems so difficult to break Mother out of her mould. Our parents are so rigid. My God, their ideas are almost archaic about our marrying our own kind. You know, Martin, we’re not exactly the Rothschilds.”

“Still, even though we don’t always agree with them, we have to try to look at it from their point of view.”

Sylvia looked irritated.

“Gosh, I thought you were on my side, Martin.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you taking their side?”

“I’m not. I just think it’s important to see their point of view to try and understand them.”

Sylvia laughed, not happily.

“You sound like a parent yourself.

They’re the ones who should be understanding. This is not the dark ages. “

“You still have to listen. Families are terribly important. They may be a little out of touch, but the point is that they’re trying to perpetuate a tradition … Sylvia, promise you won’t be upset at this.”

“I can’t promise … but at least I’ll listen.”

He smiled.

“Good. Now let’s take it from your point of view. I suppose it’s possible to fall in love with someone the first time you meet. But it’s also possible that his attraction is simply because he is different.”

“Now wait a minute, Martin, Don’t you think I know when I’m in love?”

“Well, you just said you were a little confused.”

“Not about him, about them, their attitudes, their intolerance. They haven’t even met him, Martin, and they already assume that he’s not good enough for me. I’m not a child. I’m eighteen and I haven’t been as sheltered as you think. What I mean is, going to girls’ school you learn a lot. Now don’t get the wrong idea; I’m still a virgin. But don’t tell me I don’t know my own mind.” Once again she was on the verge of tears.

“All right, I’m sorry I upset you. I guess I just didn’t put it

right. What I’m trying to say is, before you start knocking down walls, be sure, absolutely sure, that he’s the man you want to marry.

I think you have to get to know him better. “

Sylvia sighed.

“Gee, we seem to be saying ” sorry” a lot tonight. But I am. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle.”

He smiled at her.

After a long silence, Sylvia said, “Maybe you’re right. You know what I’m going to do, Martin? I’ve decided I’m going to live with Aunt Blanche for a while. Really get to know Maury better. And if I find that he’s right for me, I’ll fight like hell.”

“That’s fair. But while you’re fighting, Sylvia, keep the door open so that you can always come home with or without your dentist.”

She shook her head.

“You know, I really love you, Martin. You’re such a good friend.”

“That’s what it’s all about.”

A week later, Martin was with Sylvia’s parents, seeing her off at the train station. They looked at each other as two friends do who share a very important secret. Then she mounted the steps to her compartment.

Inside, she pulled up the shade and waved until the train pulled out of sight.

For all the sage advice he had given Sylvia, Martin found it difficult maintaining good relations with his own parents. As the three of them sat having dinner that evening, Martin tried to be tolerant of his father’s attitudes, but found he couldn’t as his father began complaining about some of the new members being admitted to the country club.

“Today it seems it’s only money that counts,” Julian was saying.

“There’s an entirely new element taking over. They’ve got this Harry Shorn on the Greens Committee who wants to straighten out the eighteenth hole.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“It’s probably a little too complicated for him. It’s the prettiest and most challenging drive of any course in the country and he can’t seem to leave it alone. In my day he would have never gotten through the front door. Well, I

guess everything is changing. ” Julian was warming to his theme.

“The whole country’s going to hell. I never thought I’d live to see the day when the government could pry into my private business affairs.

Roosevelt won’t be happy until he sees the country go communist. And God knows he’s not doing anything to help the Jews. I tell you, Bess, it’s as though the old order of things is dying. Nobody gives a damn about perpetuating tradition any more. “

The conversation had gotten far afield from Harry Shorn. In Julian’s mind Harry Shorn and Roosevelt became synonymous. Both represented a threat to the world as he knew it.

Martin thought for a moment before saying anything. He’d met Shorn at the country club and to all outward appearances he seemed a suitable member.

“Don’t you think that changes are good sometimes, Dad? I talked to Harry the other night and he seemed like he’d fit any where.”

“Strip Harry Shorn of the tailor made suit and you have a man with no breeding. He’s ostentatious and obnoxious.”

“I didn’t get that feeling. Dad.”

“Well, you haven’t had to put up with some of the obscene jokes he tells at lunch. He simply doesn’t belong.”

Martin was convinced that his father was more upset about Harry Shorn breaking down the barriers of their closed society than the fact that he wanted the eighteenth hole changed.

“Dad, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I think you’re confusing the issues. I don’t know how the government got involved with Harry Shorn, but the truth is the world can’t stand still. And I think that progress is good.”

Julian exploded.

“Progress you call it? Well, you can’t have a future unless you preserve the past.”

Watching his father’s hand tremble with anger as he picked up his wineglass, Martin was afraid it was bad for Julian’s health to get so worked up. Martin’s point no longer seemed so important.

“I suppose you’re right. Dad.”

Ignoring his son, Julian said, “What do you think about it all, Bess? You haven’t said much.”

His mother looked at Martin angrily, as though she had not heard his capitulation. She’d never heard him stand up to his father before and it troubled her. Maybe it was called growing up, but she didn’t much care for it. Turning to Julian, she said, “You can learn a great deal from listening, but you’re absolutely right, my dear. I believe the world is moving in the wrong direction.”

That night was only the first of many such conversations. Although Martin tried not to argue, he found it impossible to remain silent when Bess or particularly Julian voiced their frequently reactionary opinions. As the summer drew to a close, Martin found himself unexpectedly eager to go back to school. Dominic’s scholarship had been expanded to cover living expenses and he and Martin were sharing a room in Martin’s college, Jonathan Edwards. This fact had triggered a particularly angry fight between Julian and Martin, who couldn’t understand why his father would rather he room with an anti-Semitic Brahman than a studious Catholic.

Both parents and son stepped back a bit from their positions the week before Martin left and all three tried to enjoy their last days together. They were careful to avoid politics or the approaching war in Europe, though Hitler was one subject they were in agreement on.

When Martin finally boarded the train East, he looked with love at his parents standing on the platform. He wished he could in some way protect them from a rapidly changing world.

It was well into the following spring that he received a letter which made him decide maybe the older generation needed less protection than he’d suspected. One day in late May of his sophomore year, he returned to class to find an envelope with Sylvia’s San Francisco address on the back. He was surprised to see she’d left Aunt Blanche’s and began reading the letter as he walked up the stairs to his room.

Dear Martin:

Before I say anything I want to thank you for the profound pearls of wisdom that you gave me eight months ago. The echo of those words has come back to haunt me, I must say. I suppose because no one wants to admit that they have made a great error in judgement. Yet my impetuosity almost resulted in total disaster. I don’t quite know how I can tell you all the things that have happened in one letter, so please bear with me.

I did believe in the beginning that I was madly in love with Maury. He was so terribly exciting, like forbidden fruit. I confess, the first night I went out with him I fantasized about becoming his wife. Maybe I’d been seeing too many movies, but I really did believe Maury looked like Robert Taylor.

Well, we saw each other secretly for the first few months and both Maury and I agreed that we’d say nothing to our parents until we found we couldn’t live without each other. It wasn’t long before I began to feel that way. I was really in love. That was when I told Aunt Blanche that the family would either accept Maury or else. They knew if they persisted in rejecting him, it would only result in my wanting to marry him more. They were a lot smarter than I gave them credit for.

Now that we were no longer two against the world, we discovered we had vast differences of opinion. Till then I knew nothing about his family. We were no sooner engaged than his mother insisted I keep a kosher house. Need I say more? I would never marry outside our faith, but how would I ever be able to adjust to orthodoxy? Good Lord, I don’t know anything about Judaism. Well, one word led to another and we began finding fault with one another. I with his religious fervour and he with my lack of it. At first there were mild spats, but then he began to criticize me calling me a Jewish princess. He said I gave the impression that I was above his family. The truth, I realize now, was that we came from two different worlds. I could no more fit into his than he could mine.

Anyway, Martin, I’ve come home a little wiser than I was before. I’ve grown up a lot since then and I know one thing. Breaking off a love affair whether it’s good or bad is always painful. I’m not going to say forever, but it will be a long time before I fall in love again.

Martin, darling, this letter is so long I will sign off here.

Please write and let me know how you are, though I admit your mother keeps us informed. Well, dear friend, I’m sure that we will look back upon our callow youth and reflect upon it in years to come.

With deep affection, Sylvia

Two years had passed since Sylvia had exhorted Martin to reflect upon his callow youth, and now he was graduating from Yale. Martin’s parents had driven up from New York, bringing Sylvia, who had come East on a shopping trip. Martin found himself less angry with his father in recent months. The deteriorating situation in Europe gave them a broader base on which to agree. And since Sylvia’s confession about Maury, she and Martin had seemed to pick up the carefree friendship they had enjoyed as kids.

After the ceremony Martin began pushing through the crowds. Parents were taking pictures, sweethearts were kissing, and kids were running around trying to attract their older brothers’ attention. Finally he saw Sylvia waving.