himself a believer, but he could understand their feelings. And Estherâs. What about Esther? She would be heartbroken already, her only son. And there was Rita, their daughter. Her husband would give her holy hell for this. Rita was married to an Orthodox Jew and lived in Far Rockaway, he was a good man, decent enough and God knows solid, like a Swiss bank he was solid, but hell, every time she took a piss she had to have a ritual bath. So it seemed.
10
L OOK, Iâm really sorry,â Norman was saying. âI didnât realize you were soââ
Birdie smiled magnanimously. âItâs all right,â she said, graciously. âIt was just fox.â Then she saw Sidneyâs brow beetling. âI mean,â she said, âwhy it was special was only because Sidney gaveââ But Sidneyâs brow, instead of smoothing, was creasing still further. It was capable of great creasing because with his scalp muscles he could pull the flesh forward from his bald pate. âSidney,â Birdie said, trailing off helplessly.
âThis is my son the schmuck. Norman. He was just leaving.â
âItâs okay, Iâm in no hurry. I should make amends.â
Jocelyn was trying to squeeze past the trio. âOh, Iâm sorry,â Birdie said, turning around and giving her a smile like the one she had flashed for Norman. It was her stage smile. She used it when she didnât know what the hell was expected of her, and at this particular juncture in history, so to speak, that was precisely the case. She could tell something had been going on here because she knew Sidneyâs aura very well. It was usually a comfortable nondescript brown, dried tobacco-leaf brown, but right now she could see clear as daylight, assuming it was a clear day, about a thousand pulsating yellow dots coursing around the contours of his spirit, and that spelled trouble to anybody who knew, as she certainly did, how to read it.
Norman was trying to brush the fox fur into shape, but singed hairs kept flaking off and drifting to the floor. âThere must be somethingââ he said, holding the fur by its snout.
âForget it,â Sid said to Norman. âYou have to keep that appointment.â
âWhat appointment?â
âThat appointment. You know. You said you had an appointment to keep. Didnât you?â Norman looked blankly at his fatherâs winkings and eyebrow-liftings. âGood-bye,â Sid said.
âOh,â Norman said, âthat appointment. It doesnât matter. I can always make another appointment.â
âThat could create an adverse impression.â
âOn whom?â
âOn the party with whom you have the appointment!â
âOh,â Norman said. âThe party. I expect the party will understand. These things happen.â
âNot very often, they donât,â Jocelyn muttered, darting the rest of the way out of the room.
âSidneyââ Birdie began again.
âIn a minute.â
âI think the lady has a question,â Norman said, grinning.
âNoââ Birdie began yet again.
âThe lady does not have a question,â Sid said.
âI have an observation to make,â Birdie said.
âOh God,â Sid groaned.
âI donât believe Iâve gotten your name,â Norman said.
âWould you like my personal name or my professional name?â
âHer name is Birdie Mickle!â Sid said.
âMy name is Birdie Mickle,â Birdie said.
âIs that your personal name or your professional name?â
âPersonal, definitely. My professional name isââ
But just then the telephone rang. Sid opened the doorâthey were still standing by the door, which Jocelyn had closed after herâand shouted: âNo calls!â
âItâs your wife,â she said.
âIâll take it,â he said, slamming the door again and sighing deeply, as