THE TRIUMPH OF LIGHT

By Mel Camhi

CHAPTER ONE  (Circa 1972)

It was because of Holly that my father and I didn’t get along.  When he discovered I’d been with her instead of at temple over the High Holy Days when I was home from college one year, all Hell broke loose.

“Where is that goddamn bastard?” I heard him scream at my mother.  The front door slammed loudly right after he said this.

“Harlon’s in his room, Morrie.  Leave him alone.  He’s studying for an exam.  He’s all right.”

“No, he isn’t ‘all right’. Doesn’t he know that he’s Jewish?”

“He knows it. He’s just busy, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know shit. Get him out here. Now!”

I could envision my father’s angry scowling face as I waited for my mother to come and get me in my bedroom.  I braced myself for the knock on the door.  It came, tentatively.  I opened the door and I looked at my mother’s pretty, but rather mournful expression.  She always managed to look good somehow, even when my father was having one of his tantrums.  That’s why he married her, I suppose.  She always looked good no matter how he behaved.

“Your father’s in the kitchen. He wants to speak with you right away.”

I searched her face for any clues as to what my father might suspect at the moment.  I couldn’t detect a thing, so I decided to ask.

“Did you tell him anything?” I asked warily.

“No, but I think he knows something. Be careful.”

My mother pursed her lips slightly as she checked my appearance.  Then she straightened the collar on my shirt before retreating to another part of the house.

“Thanks, Mom.”

My mother always cared for me even if she couldn’t particularly do anything about it.  Or wouldn’t.  It was hard to tell with her.

It seemed like a long walk down the dark, narrow hallway to the kitchen.  As I was about to enter, I stopped so that my eyes could adjust to the light.  My father had his back to me.  When he heard me address him, he put down his whisky glass and turned slowly towards me.  He looked directly at me with those piercing dark brown eyes of his that always seemed a little too big for the face of a man of his small stature.

“What in the hell’s wrong with you?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” My face flushed and little beads of sweat started to form in my armpits.  My whole body tightened involuntarily.

“Why weren’t you at temple?  Didn’t we agree about this before?”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“I was studying for a philosophy exam.”  I answered as matter-of-factly as I could.

“Where is my mother when I need her?” was what I was really thinking at the moment. To no avail.

“I told you to meet me at temple.  Didn’t you think that was more important?”

His eyelids quivered slightly as he waited for my reply.

“I mentioned earlier in the week that I would try to meet you at temple, but I never promised that I’d be there for sure.  You want me to do well in college, don’t you?”

The sweat in my armpits started to drip down the sides of my ribcage.  It collected in the folds of my wool shirt, making it stick to my body.

My father folded his arms in front of him as he thought this over.  His dark eyes seemed to bulge out even more than usual.

“So you’ve been here all afternoon studying for an exam, is that it?”

He too shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as though he was getting ready to pounce on me.

“Most of the time, yes.”

I could see his dark brown eyes bulging out even further as they darted across my face searching for the lie he was convinced I was telling him.  I tried to avoid his glare. I put my hands in my front pants pocket so that the sweat collecting under my armpits wouldn’t flow so quickly.

“Then why was the hood of your Corvette so warm just now? Why was there a woman’s sweater on the passenger’s seat? Why was this book you’ve been reading ever since you got home this weekend still in your car?”

He held up a copy of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness in his right hand like a trophy, proof positive that I was a no good, lying son-of-a-bitch.  His wrinkled face scowled at my mendacity.  His white mane was combed back perfectly except for a few strands of wild hair that refused to obey him that day.

“Well, I had to go out for a while, what’s the big deal?”  It was all I could manage in the heat of the moment.

He threw the Sartre book across the room.  It landed with a thud near our cat’s litter box out on the deck off of the kitchen.  Our black cat, Midnight, was about to use it at the time.  It nearly hit her.  She leapt up and scattered down the deck to the yard.

“Hey, take it easy, what are you doing?” I said, trying to distract him from the inevitable accusations that I knew were coming.  No such luck.

“You were with her today, weren’t you?” he said accusingly.  He pointed his bony gnarled finger now in my still flushed face.

“Who?” I said, wondering what in the hell was keeping my mother away so long.

“Your blonde shiksa slut, that’s who.  Don’t lie to me.  I’m your father. She’s just a piece of trash you picked up somewhere. She wouldn’t even be with you if you weren’t a rich man’s son.” He was scowling again.

Before I even realized what was happening, I stopped being so defensive.  Now that the deception was out in the open, my fear of his anger subsided a bit.  My own anger threatened to explode at any moment.  I shook my head in disbelief at his mean-spirited accusations.  I tried to compose myself before I spoke.

I looked outside for a moment.  The full moon had a strange red tinge to it as if it were almost bloody.  I resisted the urge to stare at it longer.

.

.

“Get off of it, all right?  So what if I was, it’s no business of yours. And Holly’s not a slut. She’s my girlfriend. Get used to it, OK?”

“Not on your life. Sit down, will you?”

He combed back the unruly strands of white hair with his hand.  I looked for a way out of this.  I didn’t want to talk with him when he was like this.

“What for? You practically killed Midnight. I’m going outside. It’s too bright in here.”  I started to turn away from him.

“Sit down!” he said again.

This time more vehemently than before. I figured that I might as well get it over with.  Otherwise it would just kill my concentration for the evening.  Whatever he was going to say next was obviously very important to him.  This time I reluctantly obliged and sat down at the red square Formica table that was surrounded by a pink vinyl booth on two sides.  We would often play cards at this table.  He was a good poker player. Better than he let on most of the time.

From the counter near the sink, he brought over a half gallon bottle of Cutty Sark and two crystal shot glasses one of his clients brought back from China.  He loved these glasses, for some reason.  They were flared at the top and they had ornate green dragons with black eyes and red tongues that snaked around the glass.  Each dragon had a little gold hoard at the end of its body that it seemed to be protecting.  Now I knew my father was serious.  He poured two full shots and pushed one in my direction.  Maybe it was my imagination but the green dragons looked happier swimming in a sea of gold.  They even seemed to be gloating.

“Take it,” he said with an edge in his voice. “I’m going to tell you something I hope you’ll remember for a long, long time.”

I looked at him carefully as I picked up a shot glass and put it closer to me.  My father had a pained look on his face.  He took off his thick-rimmed glasses and lay them down on the table.

He rubbed one of his large dark brown eyes then squinted at the kitchen ceiling.  The only thing there was a small black spider dangling precariously from its web.  Finally he spoke.

“If a man doesn’t find himself by the time he’s forty, then he’s lost, probably forever.  Is that what you want?” He picked up his thick gold-rimmed glasses and put them on again.  He looked at me purposefully for an answer.

“I’m nowhere near forty yet, what’s the point?”  The sweat that had poured out of me earlier was drying slowly.  It left me with a clammy feeling.

“The point is that you’re still young enough to change your ways.  A man over forty can’t change as easily as a younger man can. If you don’t start making the right choices now, you may not be able to make them at all once you reach forty.” He put his gnarled right hand around the shot glass.  He tilted it slightly away from him. He seemed to stare at the dragon’s black eyes as it moved in the amber liquid.

“Why is that?”  I asked, suddenly interested.

“I don’t know,” my father said with finality in his voice, “that’s just the way it is.”

With that pronouncement, he put his shot glass to his thick lips and downed it with one quick jolt.  After doing so he winced slightly and he let out his breath in relief now that he had given me this important information. He poured himself another shot of Cutty.  The dragon got happy again.

“There’s only two things I want from you, Harlon. The rest is up to you.”

“What’s that, Dad?” I wasn’t sure that I wanted the answer. I twirled my shot glass in a clockwise motion on the red Formica table. The dragon moved in a counterclockwise corkscrew fashion as I did this. It was kind of fascinating to watch it move as I waited for my orders to arrive. Then they did.

“Marry a Jewish woman and get a professional degree, say in law for example. That’s a great field. I’ll bet you are even smart enough to graduate from Harvard Law School.  Give the Winer family someone to be proud of, will you?”

The Scotch started to take effect apparently because he winced again more noticeably this time as he finished his words, especially “proud of, will you?”

“Why are those things so important to you?” I asked earnestly.

“Because you’re not a good Jew if you marry outside of the faith.  And if you haven’t got a respectable way to make a lot of money, you’re dead.  Today in America, you’re dead without money.”

I looked at my shot glass full of Scotch.  The dragon seemed to be gloating at me again. I lifted it to my lips and I took a little sip.  It wasn’t as bad as I had anticipated.

I carefully avoided the “marry a Jewish woman” issue.  I didn’t want to have to bring up Holly again so I stated, “I don’t know who I’m going to marry yet, but what makes you think I’d make a good attorney?”

Despite the fact that he’d had several drinks by now, he didn’t show it.  On the contrary, his face perked right up.  His whole body got animated.  “Because you’re smart, that’s why, Harlon.  You’re getting top grades at Colgate, aren’t you? You can do it if you put your mind to it.  Don’t throw your life away teaching philosophy or whatever it is you’re studying at school.  Think of your future and providing for a family one day.  There’s big money to be made in the legal business.  Trust me, I should know.  It’s cost me a pretty big bundle by now.”

I thought this over briefly.  “OK. So let’s assume that I get interested in your idea.  What makes you think that I could get into Harvard?  It’s one of the toughest law schools in the country.  And what about the cost?  I’d be paying back the expense of it for years to come.”  I cringed at the thought.

“Don’t worry about what it costs right now,” my father said confidently.  “As long as you’re willing to do the work and do well there, I’ll find a way to cover it somehow.”  He looked bemused as he bit his lower lip slightly.

This took me by surprise. He’d always insisted that I earn my own way through school as much as I was able to do so. Usually that meant working for him or for one of his friends or business associates. He was always setting me up somewhere.

“What about getting in at all? There are a lot of smart people who want to go to Harvard Law.  What makes me so special in that regard?”

“No problem,” said my father.  “I’ve been discussing your situation with my defense attorney, Jack Goldstein. Jack is the nephew of my partner, Jacob Goldstein.  You know that lawyer that helped me out of my legal difficulties a while back? He was very expensive, but he was worth it.  Jack went to Harvard and he knows lots of people there. He’s a hell of a nice guy, too. If we all play our cards right, at the right time, it could happen, definitely happen.  What do you say, will you do it?”  He rubbed his thin, gnarly fingers together as he drew in his breath slightly.

“Is that all? Is there anything else?”  I couldn’t believe he was willing to commit that much of his resources without wanting something else in return.

Just then, as if on cue, my mother came back from the depths of our house somewhere.  She had a look of puzzled annoyance on her face.

“What’s all the commotion about in here? I could scarcely hear myself on the phone just now. Daria’s having dinner at her friend Sheila’s tonight and then she’s staying the night at her house.  I just called Saul’s Deli. They are making us something really special. All the things you both like: matzo ball soup to start, then brisket of beef with latkes and applesauce, followed by cheese blintzes for dessert.  Our dinner will be here soon.” She stopped near the sink as she fixed her earring and then smoothed out her skirt with both hands.  “You boys are both hungry, aren’t you?”

“You bet we are, Angie! I’ve got good news for you, angel.  Harlon and I were just discussing his going to Harvard Law School after he finishes up at Colgate.  Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Oh, Harlon, that would be wonderful.  I didn’t know you were interested in the law.”  She got herself a highball glass from the cabinet.  “Would anyone care to fix me a drink? It looks like you two are ahead of me by now.”

“I’ll do it,” my father said gleefully.  “Let’s celebrate!”

“Wait a minute,” I said cautiously.  “You were going to tell me if there were any other conditions to my considering going to law school.  I ‘m not sure if it is really right for me yet.”

“As a matter of fact, I was hoping that you’d find a more suitable girlfriend, Harlon.”  He poured my mother some Cutty Sark over ice. I looked at the tall white ship on the bottle of Scotch. This was one voyage that I’d rather not take.

“Forget it, then.  I’m not giving up Holly for anything. Not even for Harvard Law School.”

“What’s wrong with the girlfriend he’s got now?”  My mother took a sip of the Cutty and set her glass down on the table as she sat down to join us.

“She’s not Jewish, that’s what’s wrong with her.  Whose side are you on, anyhow?”  My father pushed the Golden Nugget ashtray he brought back from Las Vegas towards my mother.

“He’s not going to marry her, so what’s the problem, Morrie? You aren’t going to marry her, are you, Harlon?”

My mother lit an Old Gold and blew a puff of smoke into the air.

I declined to answer.The blue smoke curled up towards the black spider. It reacted by retreating deeper into its web.

“All right,” my father said decisively.  “I’ll tell you what.  Promise me that you won’t marry her or get her pregnant at least until after you graduate from Harvard Law School and my offer still stands.  All expenses paid as long as you stay in school, and stay single and don’t become a father.  Is it a deal?”

I finished the Cutty in a single gulp.  I looked at the green dragon.  The pale gold liquid was gone but the dragon still seemed to gloat, this time more than ever.

“I’ll give it some very serious thought, Dad.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some more reading done before dinner.”

A slight grin appeared on my father’s thick lips as he finished his Cutty.  His white mane was smooth again.  He beamed at my mother as she sipped her drink and continued to smoke aimlessly.

I picked up Being and Nothingness from out on the deck where it had landed near Midnight’s litter box.  She had finally decided it was safe to use it again.  But then she changed her mind when she saw me heading in her direction.  She turned and ran down the stairs to the yard again.  I looked up at the full moon .The red tinge had changed to a light golden color around the bright, crisp white orb.

I went to my room and pretended to read, but mostly I just flipped through the pages. All I could think about was Holly and how I could explain all of this to her. I know she expected that we would get married right after we both graduated from college.  Never mind how I felt about any of it; I was more confused than ever. “At least I’m not forty yet,” was my only consolation at that moment.