Among the Living Read Free Page B

you’re coming, you’ll need two boys with you.”
    “I know the drill.”
    “ ‘Know the drill.’ ” Jesler heard the snort before Jimmy said, “It’s funny but you don’t sound like a Jew.”
    “And that’s good?”
    The snort became a full-fledged laugh. “So how much of a markup you getting on all this?”
    Jesler heard another voice in the background. It became muffled: Jimmy was holding the receiver to his chest. It gave Jesler time to think, but thinking was the problem, wasn’t it? Thinking left you staring up in the middle of the night at added shelf space and distribution fees and exclusivity agreements and a wife who insisted that this was how one was meant to live. So why not just cut to it? Why not fill those shelves when the opportunity presented itself? The Italians were getting their money; he was getting his shoes. And Jimmy — Jimmy just needed him there tonight.
    “You come in the back gate,” Jimmy said. “Like last time. Two envelopes, two boys. One a.m. Don’t be late this time.”
    “No,” said Jesler. “I won’t.”

    Jesler pulled up to the curb rather than into the drive. He and Pearl had discussed this earlier: better to have Yitzhak see the house from a distance this first time. A sign was strung across the portico in papered letters that read, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” Beneath it, a wraparound porch sported two rocking chairs and a swing that hung idly from a chain. The lawn spread out in a wide swath of deep green grass — peppered bya few mounds of dirt and sand — and was cut in two by a stone walk that sprouted small tufts of weeds and dandelions on either side.
    Goldah stepped from the car and offered his hand to Pearl. She had told Jesler not to say a word so that Yitzhak could take it all in for himself.
    “Three thousand square feet,” said Jesler. “Not bad on Thirty-Sixth Street.”
    Pearl took hold of Goldah’s arm and walked with him along the path. She seemed to breathe more deeply as she stared up at the old Victorian, sky-blue and white trim. It was a far cry from the shack they had lived in when they were first married, down by the river, with the Greeks and the blacks and the smell of human smallness buried in the bleached clothes and too-sweet wine of a Friday night. Abe had made her a promise back then — a house on Thirty-Sixth. There had been other promises but those hadn’t been his to make.
    She mounted the steps and, on the porch, she laughed and cried and, in a flourish, reached for Goldah’s arms and pressed her head to his chest.
    “Such a joy,” she said. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and looked down at Jesler, who was nearing the steps. “Look who’s here, Abe. Look who’s standing on our porch.”
    She laughed and her eyes filled. There was a moment when all three thought she might grab for Goldah again, but instead she lifted both her hands into the air and turned to the door. “Such a joy.”
    Jesler joined Goldah on the porch. “Always a lot of emotion with a woman. She’ll be all right.”
    Pearl’s voice echoed from the front hall. “Mary Royal! We’re back from the station. Mr. Ike is in from the station.”
    Jesler said, “Don’t feel you have to give in to it. We’re here to get you on your feet, so don’t think we’re expecting anything more of you.”
    Goldah had no idea what Jesler was talking about except that maybe Jesler needed to hear this for himself.
    Inside Goldah smelled something familiar, a roast, but it was sharper in the nose with a sweetness that seemed out of place. He couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten a meal prepared just for him.
    Jesler led him into the front parlor — settee, chairs, lamps, and some cushioning by the window. Goldah noticed small silver cups filled with nuts and raisins perched about. Jesler pawed a fistful from one and popped a few into his mouth.
    “Don’t eat the nuts, Abe!” Pearl shouted from another room. “They’re for the company. If