Swimming Toward the Ocean by Carole L. Glickfeld

Author:Carole L. Glickfeld
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307428035
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2007-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Part Five

Ben Farber, the lawyer who looked after Sofie Vrebolovich, takes care of everything. He shepherds my mother through the cumbersome laws of New York State, designed to keep people legally bonded even when they no longer love each other. I imagine when the divorce finally comes through, my mother has mixed feelings. “Let’s celebrate tonight,” Ben says as we leave the office. I imagine my father at the other end of the long hallway, looking back at us, at me. I imagine that in spite of himself, he feels a pang of doubt. Regret, maybe.

“Are you happy?” Ben says to me, by the elevator. “No more arguments between your mom and dad. You said you don’t like fights.”

I want to ask him again how a piece of paper can stop people from arguing. Then I recall what he told me about the war in a faraway place. “Armistice,” I say now.

“Silly,” my mother says. “There was no shooting. But, I tell you, sometimes I was so angry—” Her eyebrows go way up. I see where she penciled them over to cover up the gray.

“Mrs. Arnow,” Ben says, “I’d like you and you”—he pulls one of my pigtails—“to be my guests for dinner. And Mimi and Sheldon. Agreed?”

“What’s to celebrate?” my mother says. “To think after so many years, the marriage, is toyt. Dead.”

To cajole my mother, Ben jumps in front of her, his elbow grazing a passerby. “Look where you’re going, moron!” the man barks. “Pardon me,” Ben says, but moving sideways, he inadvertently steps on the shoe of a woman behind him. She yelps, they stagger backwards and collide with two clerks. Papers swirl in the air and spill onto the marble floor. The hubbub brings an elderly guard rushing over, but as soon as he sees it’s Ben Farber, he says, “Ah, the luftmentsh. ”

“His head is in the clouds,” my mother explains, suppressing a smile. I imagine I feel a pang of jealousy when she pinches his cheek. “Why don’t I make you some latkes tonight?” she says to him. “You’re so skinny.”

Ben’s arm cradles her shoulder. “Mrs. Arnow, you would do me a great favor by dining out with me.” I imagine it’s all he can do not to give away his ulterior motive. He wants my mother to meet his recently widowed uncle.

I imagine the neighbors hanging out the window take notice of the black car that comes to pick us up, the uniformed chauffeur who opens the doors and helps my mother and my sister and me in. I imagine my brother sits next to him in the front, and on the way to the restaurant, asks him to stop at the florist. My brother buys an orchid corsage for my mother, which she pins above her bosom. We are all wearing new clothes. My mother’s dress is a yellow silk print with matching jacket. Mine is blue velvet. My sister runs her hand against its nap. “It’s like a dream,” she says, “being able to buy whatever we want.

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