The Hawk: Part Six

  Having overslept, the Aherns skipped church on Sunday morning. Although Renee fretted some, Sam wasn’t bothered. The only task he had to perform that day was to collect the Snyders from the airport. But they weren’t arriving until early afternoon, giving Sam and his wife plenty of time to recover from yesterday’s revelations.

  Sam didn’t even wonder when Renee might want to visit their best friends; Lynne, Eric, and Jane were all Renee could talk about, once she could speak, yet she only said a little within the Snyders’ house. The rest was shared in the Aherns’ bedroom, under the covers, nestled closely to her husband. And while Renee never mentioned adoption, Sam could tell it was on the tip of her tongue. He wouldn’t try to cajole that subject from Renee, nor did he want her to join him that afternoon at the airport. But he would mention to Eric that perhaps in the coming week, he and Renee both would like to stop by, once the Snyders were over jet lag.

  Yet Eric Snyder wasn’t only on Sam’s mind. He figured heavily in Stanford’s head, and in Laurie’s. Those men hadn’t posed for the artist, although as Lynne changed Jane, Stanford mentioned it in passing as if he’d just thought of it then and there. Both Eric and Laurie wanted to stare at the dealer, yet they merely acknowledged the idea, Eric noting that perhaps when the men made their next trip west he might have a free minute to draw their likenesses. Eric’s tone was teasing, which made Laurie chuckle while Stanford hid a grimace. When Lynne and Jane appeared, three chaps said nothing of Stanford’s query, but once on the plane, Eric and Lynne discussed it thoroughly.

  As the Snyders flew west, one other considered their trip. Seth wasn’t certain of their departure and arrival times, but he knew this was the day he could safely go home. However, he’d made no such overtures to return to Brooklyn. Not that he loved Miami or that he loathed New York; it was simply easier to stay where he was, even if life with Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila was at times vexing. Aunt Sheila was still trying to fix him up and while Seth had politely declined her previous attempts, Sheila was undaunted. Her mother Hildy had privately told Seth that now Sheila had a challenge, and as of yet, Sheila Goldsmith had never turned down any such contest. Sheila was certain the right woman was waiting for Seth and it was just a matter of time.

  On that particular Sunday, Seth wandered around the Goldsmiths’ neighborhood, the weather slightly sultry. It felt like summer in Brooklyn, but it wasn’t even yet May. Seth had kept his hair short, in part to not raise any more questions from his uncle, who had taken Seth aside after yet another young woman had been introduced, then rejected. Mickey plainly asked if Seth was like Laurie. Seth had smiled, replying that no he wasn’t, but he also wasn’t looking for a wife. It was too soon, Seth had then said, his tone quite somber. Mickey immediately backed off, not that he felt he had insulted Seth or Laurie, but that it hadn’t been six months since Seth left Caffey-Miller. Mickey hadn’t been as worried as his sisters about the effects of Seth’s shock treatments; Mickey believed that if a doctor said something was necessary, so be it. On his nephew’s behalf, Mickey had spoken to his wife, but Sheila thought both were crazy. A man needed a woman to look after him and Sheila merely had to find Seth the correct match.

  Not that Seth hadn’t wanted to sleep with one or two of Aunt Sheila’s finds. Life in Miami was liberating in one way, or maybe Seth was feeling better. Sometimes he thought that perhaps shock therapy had provided a measure of healing as he rarely considered suicide, yet that action never fully left his mind. But it was mitigated with stories shared by some of Sheila’s relatives causing Seth to reexamine his previous worries. Several of those Feinman aunts and uncles had European accents, but only a few spoke English. Often they talked in Yiddish, not wishing to speak the language of their native country. All had immigrated to the United States before the outbreak of World War II, and while they had lived in Florida for over twenty years, they hadn’t needed to learn English. Sometimes Seth felt like he lived in two worlds, that of America and of another nation comprised of transplanted Israelites.

  But only Mickey and Sheila’s daughter Tovah had been to Israel. She had visited her parents for two weeks right after Seth arrived, and the cousins got along well. Around Tovah, Seth could be himself, or who he felt he was, post-shock therapy. Or, he mused, slowly meandering along sidewalks which bordered well-manicured green lawns, around Tovah Seth had begun piecing himself back together. She didn’t expect him to do or say or even create anything more than amiable conversation, and while her Hebrew was passable, her English was flawless. Seth had smiled when she spoke Yiddish with her elderly relatives; they clucked at her all the while trying to teach her their way of pronunciation. They didn’t try to entice Seth into their vernacular, but those who could speak English enjoyed spending time with this rather intriguing young fellow who had served his country in Asia. They never asked about his war experiences, nor did they question where else he had been. He was novel for his New York accent, his artistic talent, and that for as hard as Sheila tried, Seth still remained single.

  But it had only been a month, one of the women would huff, then she might clasp his hand within hers, pinching his cheek as if he was five years old. None of his Brooklyn relatives were that effusive, but then Seth had closed himself off to all of them, save his mother. Not even Aunt Rose would have been so demonstrative. And Seth wasn’t bothered by his Miami family, mostly because once he left Florida, they would as good as disappear. He hadn’t promised to write to Tovah, there were no pretenses among these people. Despite his lack of a shared language, they were all much the same, those displaced from their homes, making do under the incessant Florida sunshine.

  But sultry weather didn’t bother Seth; after Korea, he was impervious to climatic changes. Some of Sheila’s family teased that he would melt when the humidity truly grew awful, but he had smiled, countering that New York summers could get nasty. He never mentioned his time in the army, in part that he hated thinking about it, and that it would have implied that he had suffered. Sheila’s European relations had fled Germany because of Hitler. That realization surrounded Seth like a soothing blanket, even on muggy days. Here in Florida, plenty of people were worse off than he.

  Yet they were also much like his mother and Aunt Rose, his sisters and cousins and…. Then Seth sighed, reaching the end of that block. No one here, not even Tovah, reminded Seth of Laurie, and while Seth loved his cousin unreservedly, it was Laurie who was now keeping Seth in Florida. Eric Snyder had left New York, not that Seth didn’t want to meet Eric, but if he met Eric…. If Seth met Eric, it would be like meeting someone who hadn’t escaped Europe before Kristallnacht. Some of Aunt Sheila’s relatives had moved to the United States before that event, some had arrived shortly afterwards. And most of those that had remained died in The Holocaust. The few who had survived went to Israel; Tovah was in touch with some of them. They were young, like Seth and Tovah, and had preferred to restart their lives in a nation solely Jewish.

  Tovah loved living in Tel Aviv; it was nothing like Miami, which of course Seth had laughed at when she described her neighborhood. Tovah’s husband Ben was an accountant, his family having fled Germany after the Nuremberg Laws were enacted, settling in Tel Aviv. But Tovah hadn’t spoken much about Ben, as if that part of her life was verboten. Seth hadn’t talked about Minnesota, maybe those situations were akin. Sheila’s family had set aside their European roots, or some of them, while Seth had blocked out Korea. Those places were of the past and life was for the living. As Seth crossed the street, he smiled. What would Laurie think if Seth shared that notion?

  Sometimes Seth wished Laurie was in Florida; maybe away from Brooklyn Seth could start to reveal to his closest cousin all that troubled him. Then Seth frowned, reaching the other side of the street. He looked down that block, rows of houses with neat front yards, big cars parked in driveways. This was the American dream, but not everyone’s desire. Initially Tovah had gone to college in Israel to please her mother, who felt their family needed to strengthen their Jewish r
oots. But Sheila hadn’t imagined her daughter would want to stay there. Ben’s family was firmly established within that still relatively new nation and Tovah deeply loved her husband and her emerging sense of Jewish nationality. Tovah still had her American accent, but she called Tel Aviv home.

  What was that like, Seth wondered, as he made his way back to where he’d been living for the last four weeks. Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila didn’t mind his presence; he kept himself occupied either by helping with household chores or visiting relatives. Sometimes he filled in at Uncle Mickey’s chiropractic office when the receptionist was away. He had even tried a little sculpting, but never got very far. He couldn’t concentrate, an ability which had indeed been hampered by shock therapy, although only after Seth had been discharged from the hospital. He’d fashioned several pieces in Minnesota, but once he went home, it was like his hands and brain no longer functioned in unison. He could imagine sculpting, but putting it into practice was futile.

  He’d told no one that, especially not Laurie. If Laurie knew…. That had been why Seth couldn’t meet Eric. He didn’t want to talk art with such a brilliant and prolific painter, although at one point Seth had actually considered backing out of his Florida sojourn. That afternoon when Laurie visited, Seth wanted to tell his cousin the truth about Eric. Maybe if Laurie knew about Eric, then he might be able to understand why Seth had enlisted.

  Seth smiled, returning to Uncle Mickey’s street. The Goldsmith house was third from the corner, but no cars were parked in the driveway. Uncle Mickey was at work while Aunt Sheila could be at any number of places; shopping, visiting relatives, attending a function related to their synagogue. Occasionally Seth went to Friday evening services; he found them soothing, as if he’d grown up steeped in Jewish customs. He hadn’t, was as irreligious as Laurie. Their mothers and sisters were more faithful, well, somewhat more involved, but compared to the Goldsmiths, the Gordons and Abrams were downright godless. Not that Uncle Mickey ever complained about his sisters, although Aunt Sheila groused about Wilma and Rose and the rest.

  Reaching Mickey and Sheila’s house, Seth walked up to the front door, but didn’t immediately pull out his key. He turned around, noting the finely cut green grass, the well-maintained flowerbeds, and a few lizards darting in and out of the lawn. Until Florida, he’d never seen lizards in such a domestic setting; they were nearly as common as mosquitoes. They loved to climb the mesh along the screened-in back porch, scurrying along like they owned the place. Seth wondered that if hawks were prevalent in this neighborhood, would these same lizards continue to flaunt themselves with impunity. Aunt Sheila hated them, but their presence was taken for granted by everyone else. Seth gazed at the sky, thinking about Eric. Just how far had that man ever flown, how long had he been a hawk at any given time? If Seth had stayed in New York, would they have talked about that, or would their conversations been kept strictly to art. Seth retrieved his key, unlocking the front door. He’d never know the answer to that question because instead of facing Eric, he’d simply run away.

  Laurie never openly accused Seth of that, neither had Seth’s mother, but it was the truth. Yet truth was a funny notion, for truth also included occurrences that normally wouldn’t be allowed as reality. Seth knew why Eric had painted the blue barn; it was as plain as the lizards in Uncle Mickey’s front lawn, creatures that wouldn’t stand a chance against a ravenous hawk. For some reason the mice had escaped unscathed, and maybe one day Seth would know why that was. But if Eric ever made his way east, those lizards should beware. Stepping into the kitchen, Seth laughed. Those unsuspecting creatures would make for easy pickings. And if Eric ever painted such a scene, then Seth would have all the necessary proof to give Laurie. Maybe someday Seth would tell his cousin that amazing fact. If Laurie thought Seth was unstable now, what would he make of a man turning into a bird?

  Chapter 109