The service continued without incident. It was not a stellar reading by any means, but it was not the worst performance he had heard from a bar mitzvah boy either. He felt a secret burst of delight with each mistake his nephew uttered, but no one else seemed to notice. When Mort looked around the room he saw only smiling people, nodding their heads. They were all on Harry’s side.
The walk home was painful. Mort walked behind Abe’s family, counting the cobblestones, trying to remember important business matters. He felt strongly that he should be using his time more efficiently that day, not wasting it on celebrations. He counted invoices and orders in his head, thinking about how busy he would be on Monday, and made a promise to himself to work on Sunday in order to get a jump on the week’s work ahead. At one point he called out to Abe, offering a reminder of an order that needed to be shipped out in a few days. Abe waved his hand in the air, brushing the reminder aside. Abe would not speak about business today.
Back at the house, Mort said hello to relatives he hadn’t seen for months. He accepted compliments on his daughters, praises for their dresses and smiles, but nothing could improve his mood. He took a glass of wine and sipped it. When Rose came over to him with a plate of food, she reminded him to give Harry the envelope they had brought. After that he sat alone, feeling self-conscious and clumsy as he tried to balance the plate on his lap.
The party went on that way, silent and empty for him, until it was almost time to leave. He was on his second glass of wine when he felt a strong arm around his shoulders. It was Helen’s cousin Shep, a bearded hulk of a man a few years older than Abe. “Morty!” he said, squeezing with his oversized hands. “Good to see you!” Mort tried to pull away, but it was impossible to escape Shep’s grip. “Guess what, Morty? No, you’ll never guess. I got married! Never been better! Meet my wife, Morty, and my son!” The next minute Mort was being dragged to meet Shep’s chubby wife, Alice, and their even chubbier baby boy. “Nice to meet you,” Mort said.
Alice was quiet, a perfect match for the outgoing Shep. “I tell you, Mort,” he boomed, “being a father is the best thing for a man! Ah, what am I yapping to you for? You know all about it!” He grabbed Mort for one more stifling embrace. “Nice to see you,” Mort muttered, retreating as quickly as possible.
In his haste to escape, Mort turned into the kitchen by mistake. Rose was there with several other women, wrapping up food now that the desserts had been set out. She looked over at him and pointed, motioning through the doorway to Harry, who was standing with one of his brothers.
Mort patted his pocket; the envelope was still there. He might as well get it over with so that he could go home. Over the din of the crowd he heard Shep’s booming voice again. Shep, that idiot, had a new lease on life! He was holding up his son, swooshing him around like a kid with a toy airplane. What Mort noticed next confounded him. Men and women alike turned their heads, this way and that, to catch a glimpse of the baby. For a few seconds at least, the guests were transfixed, their eyes tightly set on the infant in the air. For a moment, maybe more, everyone else was forgotten, even the bar mitzvah boy himself.
When Mort looked back at Rose in the kitchen, desire leapt at him for the first time in months. He felt suddenly generous and surprisingly hopeful. He approached his nephew and patted him on the back. “Nice job, Harry,” Mort told him, slipping the envelope into his hand.
With his task completed, Mort gathered his family to leave. At the door he let Helen kiss him on the cheek and shook Abe’s hand for a moment longer than usual. Abe and Helen looked at each other, but when Helen raised her eyebrow, Mort pretended not to notice. He guided Rose through the doorway, and, with daughters in tow, they left.
Chapter 2
ABE
Abe was a lucky man. He told himself that every morning while he dressed and every night before he went to sleep. Abe wasn’t religious but every day he thanked God for his beautiful wife, his four healthy sons, his brother and his business. Sometimes he left out his brother, but only when Mort was being a pain in the ass.
Abe was three years older than Mort, but most people thought he was younger by ten. When people thought of Abe, they pictured him either eating or laughing. It was no wonder, then, that Mort (who rarely engaged in either activity) was so often mistaken for the senior of the two.
The brothers owned a cardboard box–manufacturing company in Brooklyn. It had been their father’s company before them, and Abe had started working there in high school. He always wanted to go into the business. Mort, on the other hand, wanted to be a mathematician. Abe wasn’t sure what mathematicians did, but he knew Mort was great with numbers. When their father died unexpectedly during Mort’s sophomore year at college, their mother begged Mort to take a break from school to help Abe. She had faith in Abe, and she knew he was a good salesman. But she also knew him well enough to understand that his benevolent manner could ruin the business if left unchecked. She was afraid he would give too many orders on credit or allow too many discounts. Mort’s head for numbers was necessary. And she knew that his no-nonsense, tight-fisted nature would balance Abe’s generosity.
Months turned to a full year, and the break became permanent. Mort never returned to school. This, Abe knew, had been a horrible disappointment for his brother. It was the point at which he went from a serious but satisfied student to a grim and resentful young man. Abe felt responsible for his brother’s unhappiness. He tried to make Mort feel better about working at the company and changed its name to Box Brothers, thinking that Mort might take some pleasure in their bond of fraternity and commerce. He took Mort to lunch every week and tried to set him up with girls. Abe was dating Helen at that point, and she had a lot of girlfriends. But nothing Abe did brought a smile to his brother’s face. Mort continued to be somber and unpleasant, and the others at work avoided him.
In his heart, Abe knew that Mort blamed him for having to give up school. He had spoken to Mort about it only once, fifteen years ago, after their mother’s funeral. She was never the same after their father died, and despite the doctors’ insistence that nothing was wrong, she continued to shrink and wither until nothing was left. The funeral took place on a cloudy November morning at an empty cemetery. After the prayers were said; Abe and Mort each shoveled a spadeful of dirt onto the half-buried coffin. Abe was heartsick, even more for Mort than for himself. He had married Helen the year before, and aside from his mother’s illness, had enjoyed a blissful first year of marriage with her. He worried about Mort going home to an empty apartment. The clouds overhead gave way, and the rain began to fall. The three of them took shelter under a tree.
Helen had spoken first. “Come home with us, Mort. Stay for a while. You shouldn’t be by yourself today.”
“We’ll be together,” Abe added.
But Mort refused. The wind picked up, agitating the tree branches overhead like an angry child shaking a doll. Mort wouldn’t look at either of them.
“Come, Mort. Just for one night,” Helen pleaded. Abe couldn’t tell whether Mort was wincing from the wind or from pain. Either way, his brother wouldn’t speak. Mort kicked a rock into the tree trunk and dug his chin farther into the collar of his coat.
Abe took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “It’s been three years. Three years we’ve worked together. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I couldn’t have pulled it off. But the company’s fine now. It’s going great. Our sales are high, the warehouse is paid for. We can hire a bookkeeper, an accountant, maybe. You don’t have to work there anymore. You can go back to school.”
Mort was silent.
“Go back to school,” Abe told him. “It’s what you want. You’ll be happy. You can keep taking your salary—it’ll pay for your classes. We’ll keep half the company in your name.”