The War of the Roses

full mouth, raising his shoulders to fill his lungs with air. Oliver waited for him to swallow. The process seemed interminable.

'It is a kind of theater of the absurd.' Oliver sighed. 'They do it with technology. Gadgets. Divorce is now show business. Nothing is sacred anymore.'

'Only marriage is sacred. Not divorce.'

Goldstein's philosophical homilies tried his patience. He is practicing his ex-profession on me, Oliver thought, realizing that Goldstein's self-image was a far cry from the stubby little man with drooping eyelids, heavy jowls, and a paunch like an inflated balloon under his pants. He wore his pants high, a black leather belt strapped around what seemed to be his chest. Naked, Oliver speculated, he must look like an overstuffed cherub.

'When you talk like that, I have to look behind you to see if you sprouted wings,' Oliver said. He knew Goldstein was winding up for a sermon.

'You can destroy the legal basis for the family,' he began. 'But the biological basis lives on. Thurmont has no regard for the human equation. Ess iss nisht gut fur der kinder. It is not good for the children. A shanda. A shame.' Goldstein shook his head; his bald pate glistened beneath the overhead lights. 'My advice now is as follows.' He paused, drew in his breath. He saw himself, Oliver was certain, as Moses the lawgiver coming down from Mount Sinai with the tablets clutched to his breast. 'Ignore it. It never happened. They tried. They lost. If she doesn't bring it up, you don't bring it up. I'll talk to Thurmont. If someone brings it up, the children get involved. If the children get involved, they'll try to show you're a bad influence, which is what they tried to do in the first place.'

'How can I ignore it? And there's Ann to consider. I don't know if it can be handled.' He shook his head. 'Barbara won't keep her mouth shut. She'll make Ann's life hell.'

'If only you were a student of the Talmud, Rose. A shanda. Listen to me. Think of me not as a Murray, but as a David. David and Oliver. Friends. Biblically speaking, Barbara will not jeopardize her own reputation as 'good mother.' You said yourself she is a good mother. You even thought she was a good wife. So why tempt guilt? Custody of the children for you won't do them any good. You have a practice. You travel. Think of me also as your spiritual advisor. Guilt won't do any good. We Jews know about guilt.' He paused, searching internally for the relief of a belch, which came in a loud, cascading rumble. 'Sometimes a good greps gets rid of the cobwebs of the mind. A confrontation now is not smart. Don't upset the children. Tell Ann to stay.'

'Suppose she won't.'

'You said she loves you. For love, women do many stupid things.'

'Like getting married,' Oliver said, suddenly assailed by a flash of memory of a younger Barbara.

'Love should never be the basis of marriage. It's a business proposition from the beginning. Read the Talmud, Rose. It will make you a mensh.'

Goldstein stubbed the remains of his half-smoked cigar into the greasy plate.

'The whole idea is repugnant,' Oliver said. 'As a matter of fact, I'm getting tired of the way I'm living. If only she was reasonable. What's wrong with half?'

'Remember King Solomon and the baby?'

'What the hell has that got to do with it?'

'Our case rests with Solomon. We will have to prove we are the real mother of the house.'

'But the real mother was willing to give up the child rather than see it destroyed.' Oliver was proud of his insight, but Goldstein looked at him sadly, his droopy lids fluttering.

'So who got the child?'

'I don't understand any of this,' Oliver said, getting up. Goldstein pulled him down again. 'The real mother.'

He hurried away from the delicatessen in panic, more confused than when he had arrived. He found Ann in her room, packing.

'I'm going,' she said. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

'Where?'

'I don't know. I only know I can't stay here. I'd rather make the break before she forces me to.' Her suitcase was battered and one clasp was broken. He felt as if he had deliberately thrown her out on the street.

'Goldstein says you don't have to go.'

'Then let Goldstein come here and stay.' She turned toward him. 'It can't work. She will know that we've had a . . . relationship. The detective will tell her. You're still her husband. Legally.'

'But we're supposed to be leading separate lives - '

'And I can't see myself facing the children.' She looked up at him and touched his cheek gendy. 'I hate seeing this happen to this family, Oliver. I feel as if somehow I wished it to happen.'

'Tell it to Goldstein. He's an expert on guilt.'

She moved her face against his chest and he embraced her, feeling the heat of her cheek against him.

'I know I love you, Oliver. I can't stand the idea of it under these circumstances. I've never had this kind of experience before and I don't know how to cope with it.'

'Frankly, Ann, I haven't either.' He remembered Goldstein again.

'Then, Ann ...' He hesitated, doubting his sincerity, although he had admitted to himself he was moved by her. 'If you love me.' He paused.

'Please, Oliver. Don't do that to me.'