Crazy in Love (19 page)

“I guess any friend of Sallie’s automatically becomes a friend of Rachel’s, and vice versa.” Mrs. Glass laughed. “I
think it’s terrific that you two are such close friends, and that
you both see eye-to-eye on everything.”

Rachel and I just smiled at each other a bit sheepishly.

“That’s true,” I said. “I don’t know what Rachel and I
would do if we didn’t have each other.”

“You know,” Dr. Glass interjected suddenly, a twinkle in
his eye, “I’d say that this calls for a toast. But I’m afraid that since we have no champagne, I’ll have to raise my coffee cup to you.” He stood up and said in a dramatic
voice, “And so I propose a toast to three of the most
charming people I have ever known. To Miss Spooner, of course, a longtime friend.” He bowed toward me. “To Miss
Glass, my favorite daughter. And to Mr. ..
.
hmm, I’m
afraid I never did catch your last name, Saul.”

“Rodriguez,” he answered.

Now, I couldn’t swear that I saw two raised eyebrows,
one in one corner of the room, one exactly opposite it, but I
did sense just a tad of tension all of a sudden. Still, after one or two quick glances were exchanged, the lively mood
picked up where it had left off.

“To Mr. Rodriguez,” Dr. Glass continued, “the Glass
family’s newest friend.”

After we had drunk a sip of whatever beverage each of us was having, and Rachel’s cake had been cut into such
generous portions that I worried about the future of my waistline, our lighthearted chatter drifted on to other
topics.

But as the last crumbs were being scraped off our plates
, there was a lull in
the conversation. Mrs. Glass said offhandedly, “Tell me,
Saul, is your last name a Spanish name?”

“Yes, it is. I’m Puerto Rican.”

“How unusual. With your first name being Saul
...”

The same dialogue that Saul and I had run through the
first night I met him was rerun between him and Mrs. Glass. The Sol-versus-Saul-pronunciation-of-his-name. It
was obvious that Mrs. Glass’s thought process had been the same as
mine. Between Saul’s first name and his
physical appearance, she had naturally assumed he was
Jewish. And so it was a surprise—if not a shock—to
discover otherwise. But that surprise was only momentary.
After a brief discussion about the pronunciation of his
name, the Glasses sat back as Saul and I prepared to
serenade them.

It was with great pride that we launched into “If That Someone Else Is You.” After all, not only was it quickly
becoming our favorite song, it was now wearing a blue
ribbon from WROX. And that was no small honor. In loud,
gusty voices, we sang:

If someone leaves me waiting on the corner for an hour,

Or forgets she left the milk out of the fridge and it turns
sour,

Or forgets that it’s my birthday or forgets to leave the
key,

Or argues with the traffic cop when I’d rather let it be,

Then I start to feel

Maybe I was wrong;

That I’m spending too much time with her

And not enough with my simple songs.

Then I say

Maybe it should end.

But if that someone else is you—

Then it’s okay.

Dr. and Mrs. Glass listened with little smiles on their faces, and they even bopped along a bit to the tune. Rachel just beamed proudly. Everything seemed to be moving along
smoothly until we started on the third verse:

If someone says she’s crystal and that I am only glass,

That our two worlds are different and our love could
never last,

“But both of them are fragile, they need tender care,” I claim,

“And if both of them shatter, then they both would look
the same,”

Then I start to feel

Maybe I was wrong;

That I’m spending too much time with her

And not enough with my simple songs.

Then I say

Maybe it should end.

But if that someone else is you—

Then it’s okay.

Maybe it was because the faintest hint of a blush colored Rachel’s cheeks, maybe it was because Saul was looking directly at her as he sang the words. At any rate, that barely noticeable level of tension that I’d picked up on earlier when Saul had mentioned his last name returned. Only this time it seemed a whole lot stronger. I was certain that I saw
Dr. and Mrs. Glass exchange meaningful, as well as
puzzled, glances.

But we finished up our brief performance without any problems
. All three members of the audience applauded
enthusiastically.

“What a lovely song!” Mrs. Glass exclaimed.

“It is a catchy melody.” Dr. Glass nodded. “I’ll be
carrying that around in my head for days. I’ll be tapping my
toe as I write out prescriptions. I’ll become known as the
Singing Dermatologist.”

“I hate to be a party pooper”—Mrs. Glass sighed,
looking at her watch—-”but it is getting late. Between the excitement of this musical victory and that heart-wrenching Katharine Hepburn movie, I’m about worn out. If you don’t
mind, I’m going to bed.” She kissed me and Rachel, then
shook Saul’s hand. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, and congratulations, again, to both of you. Rachel, don’t
stay up too late.”

“I’ll be moving on, too;” Dr. Glass said. “Good night.”

“I’ll clean everything up,” Rachel assured them. “Good
night.”

The Glasses wandered off to their bedroom, and the three of us who remained set about bringing cups and saucers into
the kitchen and wrapping up the remains of Rachel’s
glorious cake.

“You two don’t have to help,” Rachel protested. “After
all, you’re stars!”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Success hasn’t spoiled us. We’re still the same charming, modest, wonderful people we
always were. Right, Saul?”

“Right. In fact, we’re even
more
charming and modest
and wonderful now!”

“If you can come back to earth for a minute,” Rachel
teased, swatting at Saul with a dish towel, “how about if I
wash, Saul dries, and Sallie brings in all the dishes from the
dining room?”

We busied ourselves with each of our tasks. I was back in the dining room, piling cups and glasses and saucers onto a tray, hoping my occasional accident-proneness wouldn’t return, when Mrs. Glass reappeared.

“I forgot to remind Rachel to leave the top lock of the
front door undone. Steve is corning in late tonight, and he
only has a key for the bottom lock. Here, let me help you
with those.” She swooped up a pile of saucers and spoons,
and the two of us carried our loads into the kitchen.

As Mrs. Glass pushed against the swinging door that
separated the kitchen from the dining room, she let out a
gasp. Through the doorway, over her shoulder, I could see
what it was that was responsible for her unexpected
reaction. Saul and Rachel were standing next to the refrigerator, kissing.

I don’t know which was more difficult; keeping myself
from dropping the stack of saucers I was carrying or
keeping my big mouth shut. Fortunately, I was able to do both.

“Rachel!” Mrs. Glass cried, partly from shock, partly as a means of making her daughter aware that she was there.

Saul and Rachel pulled apart, then blinked at us with
looks of surprise and guilt on their faces.

“Mom!” Rachel cried. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

It was an irrelevant remark, of course, but also the most
obvious thing to say. Mrs. Glass and I had entered the
kitchen by then, and I just stood there, wishing I could disappear. I thought morosely, Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, as one of Shakespeare’s characters once
said. It is not often that I was poetic, but at that point I
needed something to distance myself from the uncomfort
able situation I’d literally just walked into.

Never before had I seen Mrs. Glass so angry, and never before had I seen anger so well controlled. She remained poised, if tight-lipped, as she said, “Rachel, it’s very late. Don’t you think it would be best if Saul were to start home?
He must have a long subway ride ahead of him.”

Rachel and Saul glanced at each other, looking torn and
reluctant, then Saul agreed. He certainly wasn’t blind to
what was going on. He also remained poised and con
trolled. He said good night to us, thanked Mrs. Glass for the
evening, then exited out the swinging door. All three of us were
silent until we heard the front door
close.

“Well, Rachel,” Mrs. Glass said in that same controlled tone. ““I think you and I had better have a talk. I’ll ask your
father to walk Sallie home.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested. “It’s only a few
blocks.”

“I’d like Sallie to stay,” Rachel said evenly. “Whatever
you have to say to me, Mom, I think it’s important that
Sallie hear it, too.”

Mrs. Glass and I looked at each other.  Then she gestured
for Rachel and me to sit down at the kitchen table with her. I
waited expectantly, not sure if I should be curious about what was going to follow or filled with dread. At any rate, I
resolved not to say a single word.

“Well, Rachel,” Mrs. Glass began, “do you want to
begin, or shall I?”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Rachel replied.
“You’re upset because I’m going out with Saul Rodriguez.
Not only is he not Jewish, he’s Puerto Rican.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time. First of all, I didn’t
know you were going out with
any
boy. How long has this
been going on?”

“There really isn’t anything ‘going on.’ Saul and I went
out to the movies one night, and it happened to be a night when you and Daddy weren’t around. I think you had gone
out to dinner.”

“I don’t mind you going out when we’re not home,
Rachel, but why didn’t you at least tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel shrugged. “I guess I figured it
wasn’t that important. All we did was go to a movie on 86
th
Street. If it had been Sallie I was going with, I
wouldn’t have bothered to mention it, either.”

“It’s not quite the same thing. Rachel, it’s only for your safety that your father and I like to know who you’re going
out with. In the future, please let me know. Not so I can
approve or disapprove, but so I know what you’re doing and
where you’re going and who you’re going with. Okay?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Rachel agreed. “Now, speaking of
approving and disapproving—”

“Rachel, Saul seems like a lovely fellow. And he was a
friend of Sallie’s even before you met him, right?” I nodded. “That’s a good enough recommendation right
there, as far as I’m concerned. But naturally I have some
concerns over the fact that he isn’t Jewish. Maybe ‘con
cerns’ isn’t the right word. Perhaps ‘questions’ is.”

“Not to mention the fact that Saul is Puerto Rican,” Rachel said defensively. I had to stare at her to assure
myself that it really was Rachel Glass who was uttering
these words. I had to admit, for all the tension in the room,
this was turning out to be a fascinating discussion.

“You’ve always gone out with Jewish boys in the past.
Why is this time different?”

“Maybe it’s because Saul is different,” Rachel said
quickly. Then, more calmly, she went on, “To tell you the truth, when I first met Saul, I assumed he was Jewish, just
as you probably did. Saul is generally a Jewish name
.” She cast a hasty glance in my
direction, one that seemed vaguely apologetic. “Anyway, it
wasn’t until I’d spent the entire evening with him and
really started to like him that I found out he was Puerto
Rican. And then I was extremely torn. Sallie can attest to
that.

“Oh, Mom, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I know
everything you’re thinking. You’ve taught me the import
ance of the Jewish tradition, and I have a strong sense of
what that means. And it’s true that I’ve always gone out with boys who were Jewish. I know how unusual this
situation is.

“I also know that the fact that Saul is Puerto Rican
complicates things even further. Everyone knows how
Puerto Ricans are viewed, especially in New York. And I
can’t deny that I thought about that, too, at first.

“But now that I know Saul, he’s not Catholic or Puerto Rican. All he is is him, Saul. And since that’s all I can see,
that’s all that’s important to me.” She paused and stared at the table for a few seconds. “I’m only seventeen, Mom. I
know I’m not a child anymore, but I’m not an adult yet,
either. I’m still trying to grow and to learn. I’m not getting
ready to marry Saul; I just like being with him. And
... and I’d like to continue seeing him.” She looked up
at her mother. “Unless you forbid me to, of course.”