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August 08, 2005
Robert Enters the Closet
The continuing story of Robert and Karen's long courtship. It started in fourth grade—actually it only started for Robert. Karen was completely unaware of any relationship. She only caught on, oh, let's see, about sixteen years later.
We can't put it off any longer. Karen and I have been living in a sort of dream world. Going out together for about two months, we're living an almost isolated existence. We're happy, we're content, and I sense that we're both frightened of changing the status quo. We're fearful of bringing in the X-factor--and what exactly is the X-factor?
The parents.
But we have to do it.
The time has come.
Karen and I will be home for Succos. Home is Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Our parents live just a few blocks away from each other. So far, the Upper West Side has been our home turf, it's going to be, I don't know, weird seeing Karen, at last, in her parent's home.
But I actually want to see the room she grew up in. I have this fantasy that I'll open her closet and I'll see the same dress she was wearing the first day I saw her when she transferred from Yeshiva Ohel Moshe. And her white linen handkerchief will be pinned to the dress. Even her shoes will be neatly aligned on the floor, right below the dress.
Since my parents stumbled into my apartment and ran into Karen I've not told them them that I've been seeing her on a regular basis. I don't want to get their hopes up. What am I saying? I'm afraid of getting my hopes up. So when they quiz me about who I'm going out with I just mumble incoherently.
My poor parents shake their heads. Their eldest born is a complete mystery to them. He talks about being a screenwriter, they don't even know what that means. And Caron, my younger sister is already planning a beautiful wedding.
I keep my mouth shut on the first night of Succos. We go to shul, eat in the Succah. My parents ask me what's new and I shrug and talk about the latest interview I did with director Sidney Lumet. What a brilliant man, I sigh, there's so much to learn from him.
Funny, years later as writer/producer in Hollywood I asked Sidney Lumet to direct my film A Stranger Among Us and under Sidney's tutelage I learned more about the craft of making movies than from anyone else in Hollywood. He is a remarkable and important director.
"How's Rabbi Singer's daughter?" my father probes.
I shrug. "Okay, I guess. "I might walk over and visit her tomorrow afternoon." I add.
My mother shrieks.
Caron (my sister) smiles.
My father says: "Send my regards to Rabbi Singer."
Sleep is elusive. My childhood room seems very small. I sit by the window and wonder if Karen is sleeping or if she too is awake, anxious about my visit tomorrow.
Shul, the next day is... a blur. During lunch, my stomach siezes up and I feel vaguely ill. I pace for about twenty minutes then, as casually as I can manage, I announce, "I, uh, I think I'll walk over to Karen's house now." My sister wiggles her eyebrows, teasing with great affection. She looks like the Jewish Ali McGraw.
It's odd, walking through Brooklyn to meet Karen. This is where I grew up. These are the streets that I associate with my loneliness and yearning for Karen. Every corner, every store, every street light holds some memory that vividly tells me that Karen Singer will never love me, that I will live a life unfulfilled, a life of broken parts, a life of short circuited desires.
I knock on the door, and no one answers. It's a holiday, so I can't ring the bell. I knock louder. Nothing.
It kicks in. Fear. Paranoia. Karen has realized that she doesn't love me after all and she's going to ignore me. Oh wait, I know! She had a long talk with her parents. They knocked some sense into her head. Screenwriter? Is that a real job? Is that a living? Come on, Karen, since when do you play around with these romantic boys who have no prospects. Drop him. Find a lawyer, a level-headed dentist, an accountant. Something real. Something solid. Someone with a future! And Karen must have realized that they were absolutely right... No, that's crazy. She wouldn't do that. She's, well, different.
I think.
I hope.
I pray.
Maybe they're all napping. That's it. I've come waaaaay to early. I'm going to wake them all up and they are going to think that I'm an absolute idiot. They'll never let me marry their daughter. "Are you kidding," her father will thunder, "the boy has no common sense, we're all shloofing and he pounds on the front door like King Kong!"
I make a deal with myself. I will knock once more, count to five. If no one comes to the door I'll turn around and go home.
And when I get home, I'll tell my parents—what?
I'll lock myself in my room and never come out. I'll become a neighborhood curiosity. Robert The Hermit.
I knock. Hard.
One. Two. Three. Four.
My future is slipping away here, folks.
Four-and-a-half...
My so-called life.
Five...
I turn to leave.
Robert the Hermit. It has kind of a nice ring. I'll become a tragic but wise figure.
Behind me, I hear the door swinging open on its hinges.
"Robert?"
I turn around and find myself looking up at Karen. Gosh, she is beautiful. She's smiling. Smiling hugely. As if she's actually glad to see me.
"Where are you going?" she asks, looking perplexed.
"No one was answering the door."
"We agreed to meet."
"I thought maybe..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Come in. Let's sit in the Succah."
I take a deep breath and step inside. This is where Karen grew up. This is the air she breathed. This is the furniture she sat in. The walls that sheltered her.
"Where's your room?
"Upstairs, why?"
I shrug, "No reason, just wondering. Actually, I'm plotting like a Mossad agent (a deranged Mossad agent) to get into her room and peek into her closet. That 4th grade dress, I just know it's there.
I understand, this is beyond obsessive.
Karen leads me through the living room, through the kitchen, to the back porch and we sit in the Succah.
We stare at one another for a long moment. Karen grins.
"This is so weird, isn't it?" Karen says.
"It's just funny seeing you, in another context, I mean."
Karen bustles about, serves tea and cake. Soon enough, we fall into our easy flowing conversation. Her parents are upstairs, still napping. They'll be down soon.
"Do they know I'm coming?"
Karen inclines her head a bit; is that an affirmative? I'm too insecure to ask.
Too much tea. I need to use the washroom. Karen walks me back into the house. It's so quiet. In the John Wayne westerns I love so much, right before the ambush they always say: "It's quiet out there," and then The Duke says: "Too quiet." And then, of course, all hell breaks loose.
"Up the stairs, first door to the left is the restroom." Karen says.
I start up the stairs.
"Karen?
"Yes"
"What's the second door?"
"My bedroom."
Okaaaaaay.
To be continued...
Karen adds: Robert's memory for this first visit is so vivid. All I remember is that Robert wasn't wearing a suit, he hates suits, and that we had managed to avoid our shared Brooklyn turf until Succos. During the Yamim Noraim (Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur), we each went to our respective shul,) but hurried back to Manhattan as soon as feasibly possible. By Succos, it was time to "Meet the Parents." My parents had no idea why Robert Avrech suddenly appeared at our front door.
I had a lot of explaining to do.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at August 8, 2005 08:14 AM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
I love the John Wayne reference, the "too quiet" sets such a nice scene. And the angst of meeting the parents is something that is really easy to relate to.
Posted by: Jack at August 8, 2005 03:43 PM
Robert, why do I have the feeling you never made it to the first door?!!!
Posted by: Randi at August 8, 2005 05:15 PM
Jack: I love John Wayne. "The Searchers" is one of the great films.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at August 8, 2005 06:22 PM
Robert.....As I read this installment, I could feel the tension.
BTW....I have been there too. Knocking on the door...no one comes....I know they were expecting me....should I knock more....louder....Yeesh...I hate that.
Posted by: Lance at August 8, 2005 08:09 PM
"I take a deep breath and step inside. This is where Karen grew up. This is the air she breathed. This is the furniture she sat in. The walls that sheltered her."
This is so cute. I smiled all the way through this post.
Posted by: Stacey at August 8, 2005 09:17 PM
I read this post twice today -- the first time rather quickly, soon after it was posted; the second time was just now (close to 12:30 a.m.), and I read it rather leisurely, still grinning stupidly as I had earlier in the day.
But it suddenly hit me, Robert! I could actually "see" and "hear" this post -- see it played out on the large or small screen, with an off-screen narrator (I love those in movies) providing your melange of thoughts and inner conflicts...interspersed with character dialogue and action.
I nominate Daniel Stern, who is rather well-known for voiceovers. He'd do a bang-up job with the script.
Posted by: Pearl at August 8, 2005 09:27 PM
Randi: You couldn't begin to imagine. It only gets worse.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at August 8, 2005 09:43 PM
Lance: I didn't mention that the door is solid oak; also there's an inner room, sort of an old-fashioned coat room that really blocks sound, so you can stand there knocking till your blue in the face; anyway my knuckles were a mess by the time Karen showed up.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at August 8, 2005 09:50 PM
Robert,
The Searchers was good, but I have always been a fan of Rooster Cogburn.
Posted by: Jack at August 8, 2005 10:04 PM
Jack: I know that people find Rooster charming and all. i just find it mannered and pardon me, as my daughters would say, annoying. Give me the classics: Stagecoach, The Searchers... even The Shootist, his last western directed by the great Don Siegel had great power. Topic for a blog, no?
Posted by: Robert Avrech at August 9, 2005 12:04 AM
Hi Robert,
Sounds like a great topic for a blog to me.
Posted by: Jack at August 9, 2005 05:32 AM
Robert: Are you a fan of the "spaghetti westerns"?
They are some of my favorites.....Clint Eastwood was never better....he was also good in the "Dirty Harry" movies, before he started making the wimpy stuff.
Posted by: Lance at August 9, 2005 06:28 AM
Lance: Funny you should mention the Sergio Leone westerns. I do love them--passionately. I want to screen them all, especially the rarely seen, but really amazing "Duck You Sucker" ( groan, terrible title, I know, ) and then write about them. There's a big exhibition about The Spaghetti's here in LA now and I want to catch it. let's see if I can talk Karen into it.
Posted by: robert Avrech at August 9, 2005 07:03 AM