Chapter 11 This Is Not about Us #3
He tried to pretend nothing had happened.
He knew that now of all times, he should maintain neutrality, but he wasn’t neutral, and he was not an actor.
Sitting with his family around him, in the midst of that congregation, he had stolen a look, and Heather had smiled.
Of course, she was Lily’s tutor and her coach and guide.
She was the one who led Lily up the stairs to the bima and handed her the blown-glass yad, with its long pointer finger. He had reason to look, but Debra knew.
Concentrate on Lily. Think of her, he told himself as the rabbi called him up with Debra to bless Lily in Hebrew and English.
“May you be like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah.” Richard and Debra recited together, his voice gentle, hers hurt and furious. He knew what she was thinking. He could hear her say it. Really? Our daughter’s Bat Mitzvah teacher? And he was a terrible person. Wrong as always.
It was Lily who saved him. She who broke the spell.
Her voice shook as she began her chanting, but she grew stronger as she went on.
Keep it up, keep going, Richard cheered silently.
He and Debra hovered on one side of the scroll while Heather and Rabbi Zlotnick presided on the other.
Black letters swam before Richard’s eyes.
While Lily chanted, his guilt and indignation slipped away.
If only she could chant forever! But the reading ended.
Now Richard descended from the bima while the Torah scrolls were furled and dressed in velvet, decked with silver crowns and paraded through the sanctuary.
He had to sit with Debra while Lily stood with Heather to chant the haftarah.
In pink satin, Lily read Isaiah, and she swayed unconsciously.
She chanted fluidly and no one stopped her.
No one made a move because she sang so fast.
Sing, O barren one. Richard followed along in the English translation, as Debra sat stone-faced at his side. The holy one of Israel will redeem you…Words of consolation, words of healing—until the next verse. Can you cast off the wife of your youth? he read with a little shock.
I didn’t cast off anyone, he protested silently.
For a little while I forsook you. But with vast love I will bring you back.
The wife of Richard’s youth was staring straight ahead at Lily. Nothing was bringing Debra back. That was for the best—but she shamed him with her averted eyes, the aggrieved angle of her chin.
Flustered, he glanced up at Lily reading while Heather followed along, ready to correct but beaming because there were no corrections necessary.
Lily. Lily, he reminded himself. Just focus on her—and then he remembered, this is not about us.
Those words comforted him. He was not important.
He and Heather were not the topic here. This moment belonged to Lily and Isaiah—and the prophet was not talking about Richard and his first wife.
These verses referred to God and Israel.
It said so in the commentary at the bottom of the page.
In anger, for a moment, I hid my face, Richard read. But with kindness everlasting, I will take you back in love. He felt peaceful then and calm, until Lily finished, and the world rushed in again.
—
The luncheon in the Social Hall was co-sponsored by the Bat Mitzvah families in honor of the girls.
There were sushi platters, mini knishes, mini quiches, stuffed mushrooms, couscous, grilled vegetables, peanut noodles, kugels sweet and savory.
And, of course, a dessert table arrayed with cake pops, brownies, blondies, tiny cheesecakes, and pink and white cookies, some iced Lily, and some iced Arielle.
Relatives and congregants were milling. People were handing Richard envelopes for Lily and telling him how great she was.
“Terrific,” said Lew.
“She was so poised,” said Sylvia.
As for Debra, she was talking to her sister, and introducing her parents to the rabbi. When Richard walked past, she turned away. She actually turned her back on him.
When Heather said goodbye, Debra granted a tight smile. “Good luck,” she said.
Lily begged Heather to come to her party that night, and Heather said, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could, but I have a conflict.”
—
“Debra’s upset,” Heather mourned that afternoon at Richard’s place.
“It’s my fault,” Richard said. “She could see the way I looked at you.”
“I told you don’t look at me.”
“I was trying! It’s hard not to.”
“Oh God.” They were sitting on Richard’s couch, and Heather buried her face in her hands.
“Debra loves to take offense,” Richard said.
“She hates me now.”
“She does not. She hates me—and you know what? It doesn’t matter. Lily was great. And you! You saved her.”
“She saved herself.”
Heather would say that. She was such an educator.
“Everything will be fine,” Richard said. “It’s better this way. Rip off the Band-Aid.”
“But what’s going to happen when—”
“We’ll cross that bridge too.”
“I’m just so nervous.”
“Wait for me here,” Richard said as he dressed for the party.
“No, I’m going back to my place.”
“Okay. But don’t let Debra get to you!”
“I’m sad for her,” Heather said in a small voice.
He held Heather in his arms. He loved her heart, but she did not understand.
Debra knew what she was doing at all times—and he gave her credit, all the credit in the world.
Her judgment was harsh, but also good. It had been her idea to join the temple so that the girls would have a Jewish identity.
It had been her idea to hire Heather. “Debra calls the shots,” Richard said.
“But she’s alone.”
“She wanted the divorce,” said Richard, and he was not exaggerating. Debra had insisted. Demanded. Declared that they were done. And of course, that had been the right call too.
—
The Social Hall was glowing. Gold tablecloths shimmered. Orange and russet roses floated in glass vases. Glowing paper lanterns hung over the dance floor. All Lily’s relatives and friends rejoiced, although the music was so loud you could not hear what anyone was saying.
The Bat Mitzvah girl was dancing with her classmates while photographers perched on ladders to shoot from above. Lily’s blond hair flowed over one shoulder and her skirt twirled, just as you would expect, after so much ballet and skating.
“Richard,” Sylvia shouted in the dark. “Could you say something to them please?” She was talking about the band.
Richard knocked back a Scotch and shouted back, “It’s okay, Mom. They’ll quiet down when we’re eating.”
At dinner he sat between Sylvia and Lew, who said, “A reprieve at last.”
“I remember when you refused to have a Bar Mitzvah,” Sylvia told Richard.
“Yeah, I remember too.”
“I said, But Richard! I pleaded, but no. You weren’t having anything to do with it.”
“It’s true.”
Sylvia looked at Lew, who had not been her husband at the time, and said, “I’ve always regretted that.”
“It was thirty-four years ago,” Richard said—and then he thought, The year Heather was born.
“And now we’re celebrating together,” said Lew in what Sylvia called his judicial voice.
“Exactly. It’s all good.” Richard started his endive salad.
“Well…” Sylvia said.
“Mom,” said Richard, “it’s as good as it’s ever gonna be.”
This was his mantra the whole evening. When the waiters clashed with the photographers, Richard intervened.
When his mother said she was tired and asked Lew to take her back to the hotel, he talked them into staying.
When it was time for speeches, Richard took his place with Debra in front of the band.
He stood with Lily and his ex-wife and he chose peace, and happiness.
Debra paraphrased Martha Graham. “There is a life force inside of you,” she told Lily, “and since there is only one of you that energy is yours to use or lose.”
No pressure, Richard thought.
“Lily,” Debra told their daughter, “I hope you remember this wisdom. There is only one of you in all of time. Never lose your creativity.”
But when Richard spoke, he said, “Lily, you read from the Torah about new beginnings. After a flood destroyed the entire world, Noah and his family and their animals rebuilt their lives. What is the takeaway? That you can improve and change. The Torah teaches that you can start again.”
“I didn’t know you were so religious,” his cousin Steve teased later.
Richard was not religious, not at all, but he felt it at that moment, a sense of mystery and providence—a little fear, but mostly awe at what was happening—because on this night Debra knew about him and Heather.
She knew they were together, and that was a relief.
Actually, that was exactly what he wanted.
There would be trouble. It would be awkward; it might be awful for a little while, but so much joy was waiting on the other side.
Lily adjusted the microphone as he and Debra stood behind her.
“Good evening,” Lily said softly.
“Good evening!” her cousins and classmates and ballet friends answered.
“For my speech I have written a poem.” For a moment, Lily paused. She stared at her typed words for so long that Richard began to worry. Then suddenly she started.
Oh, world flawed beyond repair,
There is no hope.
We have no prayer.
Oceans cover every place.
Flood waters rise
And not a trace
Of land remains.
“Louder!” Lew called helpfully.
But what of us?
Animals demand.
Should we die
For sins of man?
Take refuge,
God said,
In an ark
Abide with Noah
While it’s dark.
How have we created someone so eloquent? Richard wondered as he stood with Debra. We, with all our squabbling? They basked in their child’s poetry, but Debra could not resist coaching Lily from behind. “Slow down.”
“Shh!” Richard shot her a look. It was ridiculous, her micromanagement. How could Lily’s life force flow when Debra was always hovering?
Lily paused for just a moment, and then continued.
Animals arrived in pairs
To dwell together
Lambs, sheep, bears.
Ravens, cattle, swans, and slugs,
Mighty lions, miniscule bugs.
Was there a writing program Lily could try this summer? A poetry contest? Richard was sure that she would win.
Crammed together,
They survived,
Until a rainbow
Lit the sky.
Noah released them
With a sigh.
And they dispersed
To swim, run, and fly.
Will we learn from this to save the earth?
Will animals be free to range?
Or will we flood our shores with climate change?
Lily looked up.
The Bat Mitzvah guests gazed back at her in stunned silence. Was she done? Should they applaud?
“Lily! Lily!” Richard started the chant as he began clapping. “Lil-y. Lil-y.” Debra was embracing his child. She’d moved in for the first hug, but Richard kept on in the background. LIL-Y. LIL-Y. All Lily’s friends were joining in.
“Beautiful,” Sylvia told Richard when he returned to the table. “But where was the ending?”
“What do you mean?” Richard asked.
“Nothing! I thought she ended a little bit abruptly.”
Oh, he thought. You were waiting for her to thank everyone for coming. You wanted to hear her say thank you to my grandparents who came from Massachusetts. As if that was the point! As if Lily’s relatives were the subject when they were not. Definitely not.
“I didn’t know she wrote poetry,” said Lew.
“She writes all the time,” Richard said. “Heather had the idea for the speech.”
“I’m not sure the earth is in such dire straits,” Lew caviled.
Richard raised his hand to stop him. The earth was in dire straits, and all he felt was joy.
Meanwhile, Sylvia said, “Who’s Heather?”
Richard didn’t answer. Everyone would find out soon enough.