Too Jewish by Friedmann Patty

Author:Friedmann, Patty [Friedmann, Patty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Dramas & Plays, Regional & Cultural, European, World Literature, Jewish, Drama & Plays, Continental European, Literary Fiction, Historical, Fiction, Novel, Judaica, Jewish Interest, Holocaust, New Orleans, love story, Three Novellas, Jews, Southern Jews, Survivor’s Guilt, Family Novel, Orthodox Jewish Literature, Dysfunctional Family, Psychosomatic Illness
ISBN: 9780982999714
Google: _fmGx82A_oIC
Amazon: B004FGMT4U
Goodreads: 10264733
Publisher: booksBnimble
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Bernie did well—until he faced the fact that he was doing well.

It was easy to mark off time: that's what happens with a small child. I can picture where I was with Darby almost month by month. Tiny toddler Darby the night we had Chinese. Petulant Darby at two in the office: that didn't work. The merchandise was shiny, the boxes were toys, the paper rustled and crackled, being inky was mystifying. Darby at three when we could afford a real apartment. Linoleum nursery rhyme figures on her floor. "Humpty Dumpty," she said, clear as a bell. I wrote it down. Bernie's life, charted in Darby's baby book.

Then Bernie asked me about the rent. "I have a financial decision we need to talk about," he said. Well, sure. We always talked over money. We never had any, but we always talked about it. No, he said, this was about the business, specifically the rent. My father was paying the lease; his name was on the lease. "I actually have a tight feeling in my gut every time I think about the landlord getting a check from him," Bernie often said. "How am I supposed to ask for even a light bulb? Why should I expect any respect?" I believed that a business that looked good got public respect. Bernie's business looked good. He had gold leaf lettering on the window, he had deliveries every day, his shirt always was ironed. But public respect wasn't enough.

"I can afford the rent," he said. We were affording a lot, not a lot by my childhood standards, but a lot by our Krauss's standards. Our apartment had walls and a bathroom we didn't have to share, we had our own telephone, we ate meat every night. We even went to Wise's Cafeteria. Once a month, but we went. We never chose Thursdays because it was rich Jews night on Thursdays, maid's night off.

I had to think about Bernie and the rent. That's why he brought it up. It was a can't-win-for-losing deal. Paying the rent would be thrilling independence, but independence would surely cost us. Stripping my parents of power was dicey when it involved money because they'd find it another way.

There were other uses for the extra money. I didn't tell Bernie; I asked him.

We could live better, he said. He could expand the business, or he could save the money.

"But your first thought was to get Daddy out of the picture," I said. I said it with amusement. It would have been my first thought, too.

"Priceless," he said.

"We definitely can't use it for our own lives," I said. That would mean my parents could take credit for everything. That already was why we didn't go to Wise's on Thursdays. They might see us.

Expansion was a possibility. "Your father could claim he was an investor," Bernie said. "He wouldn't want a return on his money. Just credit for the rest of his life. Look what I did. Without me, Bernie is nothing.'"

I saw no reason to save, at least not that much.

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