“That’s absolutely not true! You’re upset that I just turned thirty and I’m not married. I’m not.” I wasn’t. But I was a little upset that I had just turned thirty. And I was a little more upset that I didn’t currently have a steady boyfriend. And I was really upset that I had just been released from being on hold for three national commercials. But that wasn’t the point. None of this was. Molly Berger was an annoying Yenta and nobody came to my defense. Nobody would let me say what I feel.
“I’m not upset about anything. I’m completely happy,” I said. “Completely.”
“Good,” said my mom. She resumed her reclining position on the beach chair. “Just keep in mind that it gets harder to meet someone as you get older. People meet when they’re in college. That’s the place to meet.”
“That’s where Lenny met Sharon,” said Henry.
“First of all, Henry, Lenny met Sharon after college. After graduate school. Years after. In a bar in Boston. You may have college mixed up with college town. Second of all, I didn’t want to get married to anybody in college. I don’t even want to get married to anybody now. I’m an actress.”
“So what does one thing have to do with the other?”
It was the first question my mother posed that made any sense and I started to think about it. I wanted to talk about it. What did one thing have to do with the other?
“Okay, I’ll tell you something, Mom.” I wasn’t sure if this was an answer, but it felt like the beginning to understanding the question. “This is the thing.” I looked across to see that the Bergers were safely ensconced in their house and out of earshot. “I have a much more interesting life than Wendy. I’m an actress. I live in the city. I go out all the time to concerts, theater. I take classes. I date all these guys. I’m single!”
“Keep your voice down,” said Henry. “We don’t need the neighbors to know our business.”
“Why not? They know it anyway. They may as well hear it from the horse’s mouth and get it straight.”
“Do you want to go home?” my mother asked. “If you’re going to be like this just go home and don’t ruin my weekend.”
“I’m trying to talk to you.”
“And I’m talking to you. Wendy is a lucky girl that she met Scott. And Wendy has a very interesting life. She has a husband, Karrie. Children. A house.”
“How interesting can that be? Come on, Ma. They live in the suburbs. They go to malls. She’s a dental hygienist.”
“Fine. Don’t get married. Don’t have children. Don’t do anything normal. Stay in the city. Stay single. Just leave me alone and don’t complain.”
I walked away from the conversation and into the house. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand my mother. I didn’t understand Henry. I thought I understood Molly, but so what. I didn’t understand why anyone thought there would be any consequences to not marrying by thirty. I didn’t understand why anyone thought that was remotely important. I didn’t understand why it all bothered me so much, and I certainly didn’t understand how to understand it.
I always had a date. I met a lot of guys. I just assumed that by the time I was, oh, I don’t know…thirty-seven or -eight, or my God, even forty, one of these guys would just work out. Meanwhile, all I wanted was to work and make money acting and have a boyfriend and have fun. I wanted to go with the flow. I admit it often felt like going against the tide, but I really wanted to enjoy my life and enjoy being me.
I bent down to put on my running shoes. I would run. I would run it out of my system. And I would feel. Better.
“Oh!!!” I turned around and saw Henry behind me. He had followed me into the house, but I didn’t see.
“Don’t say anything,” said Henry as he slid the door closed. “Let’s just drop it and keep the peace with you and your mother. But you’ll see,” he said, all-knowing. “One day you’ll meet someone and you’ll forget about the acting and the city. You’ll have a change of heart. Settle down. You’ll feel different.”
I looked at my stepdad. I knew he meant well, and I knew he believed his theory. Perhaps for some it was that easy, and perhaps for others it was that true. But in my gut I knew he was wrong.
4
David's Dad
Rosh Hashana
Central Park West, NYC 1988
Rosh Hashana. One of the holiest days of the year in Judaism. And I was in rehearsal for a show. To be a nun, no less.
I was invited to spend the holiday with David’s family and was pretty happy about this. I had met David a few months back in Central Park. We were both running the reservoir. We passed each other and smiled. When we passed each other on the second lap I gave him a flirtatious little wave, one finger at a time, then dashed out of the park. About five minutes later I heard, “Hey, wait up. Aren’t you the woman who was running?” I turned around to see David standing on the corner of Fifth and 90th Street catching his breath and waiting for my response. David said he was a little out of shape. He was a first-year surgical intern at Lenox Hill Hospital and spent most of his time off call asleep.
The adrenaline was pumping as I showered and changed at the rehearsal studio downtown. The show was rehearsing in New York, but would be running in Philadelphia. I’d be leaving town the following week for an open-ended run. I was superexcited about spending the holiday with David and his family. I hadn’t met anyone yet, and was told that everyone would be at his aunt and uncle’s, including Grandpa Max who was a little deaf.
We were to meet at five o’clock at his parents’ apartment off the park at West 92nd. Five o’clock sharp I arrived with a bottle of wine, a shopping bag filled with my tap shoes, and a big hand puppet that looked like a nun. A prop for one of my numbers.
His mother answered the door.
“Hi! I’m Kitty. Come in.” I was taken with this very attractive and svelte woman. The apartment was open and pretty too.
“You can put your things over there. David tells me you do something creative. What is it?”
“I’m an actress,” I said, hiding Sister Mary Annette. I stood for an awkward moment. “Uh—thanks for having me. It’s real nice to be with a family on the holidays. I’m working, and my folks are in Florida with my aunt and uncle.”
“A Jewish girl?” Kitty looked shocked. “With that light coloring and those blue eyes! Sid, come out here. Your son brought home a Jewish girl.”
Sid bounded from the bedroom adjusting his bow tie.
“Hi, there,” he beamed. “Welcome.”
Kitty went into the kitchen to prepare some hors d’oeuvres, and suggested Sid and I get acquainted. We sat on the big beige sofa.
“David tells me you’re a retired gynecologist,” I said. “My doctor’s on 79th and Park.”
“My practice was across the street. You know, Karrie, lots of my patients were artists. Writers, actresses, painters. Sometimes they couldn’t afford to pay me in money, so they paid me with their work.”
He pointed to several beautiful paintings that hung in the living room.
“I love these. We had more, but when we sold the house in New Jersey we couldn’t take everything. Actually, these mean more to me than the money.”
Kitty came in with drinks. We talked about my show.
“May I see what you’ve got in that shopping bag?” she asked. “I’m dying of curiosity.”
I pulled out “Sister” and let her sing a few bars.
“I