written By
Marty scheduled his announcement for 10:00 AM on a Monday, and the Friday before he pinned a notice with the date, time and place on the bulletin board across from the condominium elevator. He spent the weekend crafting what he would say about Deborah wanting a divorce, and the whole time he was word-smithing, he also was daydreaming about what would happen after the announcement, which neighbors might bring over food, or call to express sympathy, or with questions—like would the condominium be going on the market and was there the possibility of a private sale? And what about the garage spaces? And would either Marty or Deborah be staying on? Or both of them, in one of those vaguely salacious, inscrutable, modern post-marriage mash-ups?
But on Monday, only two residents attended the announcement—Belle, the chronically sniffling girl from 204B, who arrived with tissues and an iPad with a sticker that read “Believe Women,” and Earl, the octogenarian who’d moved to the building when Stinson Paragrais was still Mayor, which was at least a year before the cable wiring or sheetrock was installed, and well before any of the units was actually listed for sale. Belle arrived first. She was wearing tweed slacks, black Keds, red socks, and a white turtleneck with the sleeves pushed to the elbows, showcasing the half-dozen bracelets on each arm. She sat and read her messages on the iPad, and Marty saw her flinch when Earl came in. Earl was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and a beret. He maneuvered his walker past the sectional where Belle was sitting and the rolling sush of the walker and the languid, almost apologetic squawk on each rotation of one of the back wheels were the loudest sounds in the room. Earl pivoted the walker and fished a notepad and pen from under the seat, then sat and folded his hands on his lap. He didn’t look at Belle and she didn’t look at him, and neither of them looked at Marty.
Marty had moved a portable lectern to one of the common room tables and he stood behind the lectern smoothing his notes and shuffling the expressions on his face, glancing surreptitiously at Belle and at Earl and then at the clock. At 10:05 he cleared his throat and said, “I guess I’ll get started then,” and read out what he’d written.
* * *
On the other side of town, also at 10:00AM, Marty’s mother, Marlyss, backed her Cadillac CT5 out of her driveway and drove to B’nai Emet Synagogue. She settled herself on a sofa in the Gan* which she considered a more inviting room than either the Large Sanctuary or the Small Sanctuary, and announced to Davna, the Gan instructor, and to the children who were within earshot that she was beginning a hunger strike. “Hunger striking for tikkun*,” she said, and not morsel or drop would pass her lips until Deborah relented and rescinded her announced intention to divorce Marty. Davna summoned Rabbi Aaron who shooed the children away from the immediate area, and joined Marlyss on the sofa. He was sympathetic but businesslike. He told Marlyss he was prepared to minister but that he also needed to manage. He kept his hand in front of his mouth while he whispered because he knew from his wife that he sometimes sprayed on the sibilants. He told Marlyss she could stay in the Gan as long as she needed, but would she please refrain from comments about Deborah or divorce—Think of the children—and that the Gan would need to continue to function, with play time and story hour, and a much-needed rehearsal of the Purim* play, with Purim now less than two weeks away. Also there would be juice and cookies once he’d finished talking with Marlyss, which Marlyss could partake of or not, however she was feeling, did she understand, or have any thoughts or questions about what he’d said?
* * *
As always, Deborah was up early on Monday. She was staying at her sister’s and taking care of the cat while her sister was away. She fed the cat then showered and prepared two slices of wheat toast buttered with avocado butter. She took an apricot yogurt for after her 7:00AM spin class, and after class she drove to her job at the travel agency. She didn’t know anything about Marty’s announcement until her friend Sharon texted and asked if she’d read Belle’s post about it on Belay This. No, I’m at work, Deborah texted back. You might want to have a look, Sharon responded and sent the link.
* * *
So who would you tell if you were getting a divorce? Belle had written. Have a plan for that? Random strangers be near the top of your list? She went on to characterize Marty’s choice of venue, messaging and audience as emblematic of the blight bunkered at the core of traditional relationships and marriage, and used the characterization as a springboard to a broader critique.
Earl’s summary of the announcement was more workmanlike. It appeared at noon in the Tower Tattler, a broadside of news and notes about goings on at the condominium that Earl would xerox at Staples and leave on the table in the lobby next to the packages that had been delivered that day. He included the same facts as Belle, but his tone was gentler and his narration was straightforward, a Joe Friday telling of what Marty had said, with no personal reactions.
Later that afternoon when both Belle and Earl learned about Marlyss’ sit-in from a mother who’d picked up children at the Gan, each put out a Divorce Update!!, although again Belle’s appeared several hours before Earl’s.
By the time Deborah called Marty and told him to meet her after work on Thursday, the story about Deborah and Marty, and Marlyss in the Gan had appeared on both the Tuesday and Wednesday editions of Fencelines, the local interest feature that was broadcast on Channel 11 between the midday news and the weather report. “And this heart-wrenching story continues to be of tremendous interest to our viewers,” Molly Horrigan intoned—‘And to Marty,’ Barry Thorndahl puffed and muttered into a hot mic although he was off camera—”It’s the number two most-shared story on the website today.”
“Incredible.”
“And you and the rest of the Channel 11 nation can stay informed and up to the minute, on the web at Channel11.news or on our app, Channel11Go, where you can get the latest on your personal device, wherever and whenever you like,” Molly Horrigan paused for a beat and displayed her perfect, toothy smile, “Now here’s Charlie with the weather.”
* * *
“You need to do something about Marlyss,” Deborah hissed as she slid into the booth across from Marty at Nichol’s.
“Help her starve faster maybe? That work for you?”
“Your mother’s not starving. Aaron assured me that Estelle makes lunch for her every day and that they find empty take-out containers in the Gan trash every morning.”
“To say nothing of unlimited juice and cookies.”
“Marty, can you be seriously present just once before this marriage ends? Is that even possible?”
“For instance?”
“For instance, be real instead of always trying to be funny. You could think about how this affects me and how it feels when you do absolutely nothing to get your mother to stop.”
“Ah, that. Okay. So Mom is really out there with this one, but—”
“No, no buts. Just figure something out. Get Marlyss out of B’nai Emet and out of the news. Then maybe Fencelines lets it drop and their billion nut-case followers will get out of my email and messages. Stop with the peddling of your poor devastated heart to Belle and Earl, and stop encouraging them to think things aren’t decided when they are. The marriage is over Marty and it’s time to let people know you understand and accept that. Then maybe we can all get on with our lives.”
“I’m not peddling anything to Belle or Earl. Belle’s the one you should be mad at, she’s the one giving it legs.”
“Because of your stupid announcement. What did you think was going to happen? That I’d change my mind? Or you’d score points with our friends and neighbors and that would change something? So then when Belle goes all ménage a choix and what love deserves, you’re like: ‘Why are you mad at me? Be mad at Belle!’ Why? Does she have some secret plan to swoop in and scoop you up for herself? God bless, have at it, please and thank you. And be sure to send the link so I can read all about the wicked wife and her tragically harmed husband, and the honey-hearted journalist who stepped out of her blog and into the story.”
“So right, that’s nuts. Anyway Belle’s not my type.”
“I like that you’re thinking about types.”
Marty shook his head. “And it never stops. At least when we’re done, I’ll know I tried and that I was willing to keep trying.”
“And what I’ll know is you read Goodnight Moon when you were 5 and The Lord of the Rings when you were 15. At 20 you read A Separate Reality and at 50 you’ll be reading Portnoy’s Complaint. That’s not the person I want to spend my life with.”
“Except it was The Silmarillion.”
“What?”
“I read The Silmarillion not The Lord of the Rings.”
Deborah stood, “Great. You get the check.”
* * *
On Friday, Marty called B’nai Emet to say he’d be stopping by to talk with Marlyss. Rabbi Aaron told him to wait until Gan was over and to use the kitchen entrance.
Davna was setting up for Saturday service when Marty came in. She greeted him and told him she was sorry about the divorce., then left so Marty and Marlyss could have privacy while they talked.
“How are you, Mom?” Marty asked.
“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”
“Not good. This hasn’t been an easy week. But you’re looking really good for someone who hasn’t been eating.”
“It’s not the first time.”
“That’s right. I remember what you’d say how awful things got during the war. So this is like that now? What about washing up? And where do you sleep?”
“Do I look dirty? That wouldn’t be a first time either, but at least this time has a purpose.” She lowered her voice, “You can’t tell, but Rabbi Aaron lets me use his shower.”
“What about clean clothes? Do you need me to bring anything?”
“I brought my suitcase.”
Marty sighed, “I don’t know what you expect Mom, but Deborah isn’t changing her mind. I don’t think you’re understanding how she gets when she’s decided something.”
“And I don’t think she’s understanding how I get. And you either, or you wouldn’t be talking like that to me. Do you really think so alike? Or are you only here to repeat what Deborah wants? What about you? There isn’t a marriage without problems. You know what your father was like, how can you think it wasn’t work for us? Of course it was. Marriage is work and I’m embarrassed to have a son who doesn’t understand that. Probably because we made it easy for you, so you wouldn’t have all the problems we had.”
“This isn’t your fault. It isn’t about you or anything you did or didn’t do. It’s about Deb and me and our problems. Not about whether we experienced growing up in the ghetto, or discrimination or the camps. And despite everything, all the horrors and trauma you lived through, you emerged with resilience and strength and dignity, and when you came to America, you thrived.”
“Not as much as you seem to think. There are things like this that matter too.”
* * *
On Saturday, Belle joined Marty at the elevator when he was coming back from the Farmer’s Market. “Hand me a bag, I can help carry.” The smell of cloves came across with her arm when she reached for the bag. Belle’s hair was braided and the braid trailed down her back. She was wearing a railroad cap and a sleeveless t-shirt and Marty could see a tattoo of a spider web on her neck. “Any thoughts about doing an update?” Belle asked.
“That first time was a mistake and it made things worse between Deb and me. I’m not doing it again.”
“But it wasn’t a mistake! People are really interested in hearing your story Marty, I can show the numbers.” They’d gotten off the elevator.
“Thanks,” Marty reached for the bag Belle was holding.
“That’s not an answer.” She didn’t let go.
“Deb said you only care because of your numbers, because of the things you can use in your blog. Or that you even plan to hit on me just so you can write about that.”
Belle laughed, “She said that? Really? You can tell her no worries, I’m not the type.”
“The type who only cares about the numbers? Or the type who would hit on someone just so she could write about if?”
“The type who would hit on a man at all.”
* * *
On Monday a producer from Fencelines called Marty and invited him to come on the show. She didn’t tell him she’d also asked Deborah and Marlyss. “The answer is no, I’m not interested,” Marty said.
“I can give you one nanosecond to reconsider, but that’s it. Fencelines will be a game changer and especially for whoever comes on first.” The line went dead before Marty could refuse again. The call was still on his mind when he ran into Earl.
“You should do it,” Earl said. He didn’t tell Marty he’d interviewed Deborah that morning and she’d mentioned her offer from Fencelines. That meant Marlyss had one too and Earl realized if he added a teaser about the offers to his story about Deborah and hustled to Staples, he could scoop Belle.
* * *
“A public appeal to Marlyss could work, if you couched it right. Maybe go way over the top with praise for her selfless devotion to her son.” Deborah didn’t tell Marty she’d already turned down a Fencelines invitation. Marty told her Marlyss was using Rabbi Aaron’s shower and had brought a suitcase with extra clothes. “So she can hold out pretty much indefinitely,” he said.
“All the more reason to do something like an appeal. You need to change the situation on the ground.”
“I don’t think you’re really understanding her. She doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“And I don’t think she’s understanding me. So where does that leave us? I don’t understand, she doesn’t understand, there’s no understanding, and then what? We need to end this before it gets any worse.”
“I don’t see how that can happen.”
“Earl called for an interview with me this morning.”
“He didn’t say anything about that when I saw him. What did you say?”
“That I’m angry. That my wanting a divorce has nothing to do with Marlyss, and the way she’s forcing the attention onto herself makes me angry.”
“Attention that should be on you.”
“On the divorce. On finishing things up between us so we can get on with our lives. Do you remember telling me how angry you’d feel sometimes as a kid? That’s a lot what this is like. You said that in your family it felt like showing anger wasn’t okay, so you’d go to the garage and pound nails into the posts until you felt better. That the posts all looked like porcupines from the nails.”
“What?”
“You said the Holocaust was the yardstick for anger in your family and that anything less didn’t measure up. But smaller angers can be important too.”
“I’m angry at you right now.”
“Sure, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Which is what?”
“What will get Marlyss to stop.”
“I have no idea.”
“I know. But together we should be able to figure something out.”
“Together?”
“It doesn’t change anything else,” Deborah said.
* * *
On Sunday Rabbi Aaron met Marty for a walk. “I’m concerned Marlyss will still be in the Gan when Purim comes, that’s only a week away now.” Rabbi Aaron took Marty by the sleeve. “People sometimes think of Purim only as a holiday of play and silliness but it’s more. Yes, we dress in costume but we also perform mishloah manot* and matanot l’evyonim*. We share hamantasch* but also trumpet graggers* to overwhelm the naming of evil. How will it look if Marlyss is there? If her anger spills out in comments about Deborah and the situation and if the television appears and broadcasts that to the world?”
“Wait, you’re worried how it will look when Mom isn’t in costume and waving a gragger?”
“Is that supposed to be funny? This is serious, Marty. How does it end?”
“It ends with my divorce.”
“You aren’t stalling because of that? We need to keep these things separate.”
“Mom isn’t keeping them separate.”
“Marlyss its filled with good intentions, but her thinking is from a different generation. Divorce was a stain for them, it marked the person forever. Someone had to be right and someone had to be wrong, and everyone knew who was who. That isn’t true anymore.”
“I don’t know what can will her until she’s ready to be moved.”
“A man in jeans and a beret with a walker came to see Marlyss this morning.”
“That’s Earl.”
“One of the journalists.”
Marty laughed, “He writes the newsletter for our condominium.”
“Marlyss seemed to enjoy his company.”
“I’m sure I’ll get to read about it when I get home.”
“She seemed to enjoy his company, Marty, can you hear that? Marlyss is alone with the children all morning and alone with Davna in the afternoon, I don’t know if they even talk. At night she’s just alone. I want you to speak with her about how this ends, help her see the problem. I would hate to have to take the steps myself.”
* * *
The next day, Marty went to B’nai Emet to talk with Marlyss. Fatigue had colored the hollows around her eyes and her cheeks smelled of restroom dispensary soap. There was a food stain on her blouse.
“Rabbi Aaron said that Earl came to see you yesterday,” Marty took her hand.
“He said knows you.”
“He lives at the condominium. He writes the newsletter and lately it’s about us. You, me, and Deborah.”
“We talked about our growing up. He’s too young remember the Depression, but his brother and parents told him about not having enough to eat and never feeling safe. I said it was the same for us in Poland.”
“But it wasn’t the same.”
“Why do you say that? Are you the one who gets to judge?”
“So, did you tell him there’s not really a hunger strike, that you actually eat every day?”
“Why would I say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
Her voice softened, “And now you’ll lecture me about the truth? When I was growing up there were lots of truths, it always depended. It was only after the war, in America, that a single truth became what everyone repeated.”
“And still, it wasn’t the same. The Depression was awful and people really suffered. But what happened to Earl and his family wasn’t at all like what happened to you and Dad, to our family.”
“He seems nice. There’s a lot he understands.”
“Mom, can we focus on us, on our situation? This—whatever-you-want-to-call-it—what you’re doing, it isn’t helping. How do you think it ends?”
“It will end when Deborah and I have an understanding.”
“I already told you, she isn’t changing her mind. She’s angry, Mom. Because of what you’re doing, she gets so many emails and messages that it interferes with her work. You’re causing real suffering.”
“Why should she get to avoid suffering?”
“But it won’t change her mind.”
“That’s for her and I to decide, not you.”
* * *
It took a series of conversations before Deborah agreed to meet with Marlyss, and even after she agreed, she continued to complain about the ways it would go wrong. There was the likelihood she and Marlyss would end up exactly where they started, in disagreement. And the probability the journalists and pseudo-journalists would continue to hold center stage. There was the uncertainty about how the waning of Rabbi Aaron’s patience would affect things. And then there was moon-faced Marty—Deborah’s words—who’d be hovering around and influencing perceptions if not the outcome.
In the days leading up to the meeting Fencelines began airing a dramatic promotion. It opened with posterized images of Marty, Deborah and Marlyss that faded in and out while Molly Horrigan narrated the events that had led to the meeting. The images dissolved and a clip of Earl appeared on the left side of a split screen and he explained that although he, Marty and Deborah were neighbors at the condominium, he’d never really noticed them until Marty posted the sign about his announcement. Then Belle popped into the right side of the screen and said that because of her background and experience writing about relationships, she’d seen the fissures in Deborah and Marty’s relationship from the start. The promo closed with the promise that Fencelines would be there to broadcast the outcome of the meeting as soon as it was known.
* * *
On the morning of the meeting, a Channel 11 News van pulled in at B’nai Emet and soon after, Belle, Earl, and the Channel 11 crew were sharing coffee and donuts. Rabbi Aaron had informed Marlyss that she and Deborah would meet in the Assistant Rabbi’s office, a space that had been a custodians’s storage closet before it was converted into a cramped, windowless office that received it’s only air exchange from the plastic fan nailed to the doorjamb. He added that as soon as Marlyss and Deborah were done, Marlyss should finalize a plan to leave the Gan.
Rabbi Aaron settled Deborah in the office then went to fetch Marlyss. Marty and Davna were with Marlyss in the Gan when he came in. “Deborah’s here, are you ready?” He said to Marlyss.
“Of course,” Marlyss smiled, and she and Rabbi Aaron left.
“How are you feeling?” Davna asked Marty.
“Worried. What if they can’t agree?”
“Oh they will, they have to! Remember, it’s about you, and they both care about you. But wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall? I bet you’d hear some interesting stuff.”
“I don’t think it’s so much about me.”
“It’s like that diorama of the dinosaurs, the stegosaurus and T-Rex? Ready for the battle that will be the end of one of them, or both.”
“I don’t think it’s like that all,” Marty felt flushed. His stomach was knotted and his wrists itched.
“It’s been really fun having your Mom here. She’s really good with the children.”
“She is?”
“Everything will work out, Marty, you’ll see. You’ll be back on your feet in no time after the divorce.”
Rabbi Aaron hurried back into the Gan, “Davna, we have the chance now to finish planning for Purim.” He turned to Marty. “They said they’re almost done, only a few minutes more. You’ll be happy to know they were laughing.”
Laughing? Marty’s stomach turned a somersault. He needed fresh air and he stood and made his way to the parking lot. As soon as he appeared, Molly Horrigan and a camera operator turned in his direction and Marty pivoted and ducked back inside.
There was no one in the Gan but he could hear voices in the hall. Rabbi Aaron sounded upset but Davna was talking at the same time and Marty couldn’t make out what either of them was saying. He found them outside the Assistant Rabbi’s office. Neither Deborah or Marlyss was there. Air from the plastic fan fluttered a sheet that had been pinned to the bulletin board. In round, Day-Glo marker letters, Marlyss had printed that she would make an announcement at 10:00AM in the Gan the following morning .
Marty texted Deborah, Where are you? Can we meet at Nichols?
Nothing to eat or drink for me until after the announcement, Deborah texted back.
Do you know what she plans to say?
Of course.
Well?
A minute ticked by and then another but Deborah didn’t respond. Rabbi Aaron and Davna left. Marty pocketed his phone. The sheet on the bulletin board continued to wave, hello or goodbye? Marty realized he didn’t care. Marlyss would hold court in the morning and Deborah would choose to eat or not eat. Marty had a phone call to make. To Fencelines. But not to Molly Horrigan, what was the guy’s name? Barry Thorndahl. He’d sounded like he understood what it was like for Marty. Marty was done with Belle and Earl, no more Belay This or Tower Tattler. Fencelines had clout and reach. What had Deborah said? A billion nutcase followers. That was an exaggeration, but Belle had echoed something similar, People are really interested, Marty. So it was up to Marty to be prepared to run with that. And afterwards? Well, maybe people would come by with food, or call with questions. And when they did, this time Marty would be prepared.
Glossary of Hebrew and Yiddish Terms
Gan: literally Garden, also used as Kindergarten or Pre-School
Tikkun: repair, restoration, as in the phrase Tikkun Olam, meaning the healing and repair of a broken world, and joining with God to do that work.
Purim: The Festival of Lots. A spring holiday that celebrates the story told in the Book of Esther.
Mishloah manot: The giving of gifts of food to friends and family.
Matanot l’evyonim: Fulfilling the obligation to help those in need.
Hamantaschen: a filled pastry shaped like a triangle (representing a 3-cornered hat)
Gragger: A noise-maker, used on Purim to drown out the sound of Haman’s name each time it is read out in the Book of Esther.
