Love Saves the Day

Josh’s eyes took in Laura’s suit, which—for all its staid propriety—was clearly expensive. “Were you very poor?”

“Poor enough. Although I didn’t realize it until we … until I was fourteen.”

“What happened when you were fourteen?”

“Oh, you know.” Laura made a vague gesture and felt her cheeks grow warm. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just chatter and flirt like any other woman talking to an attractive man in a nightclub? “One day you have to grow up and understand how the world really works.”

The band, having launched into a Celia Cruz number, sounded louder in the momentary silence that fell between them. Laura smiled in recognition and, wanting to dispel the solemn mood that had sprung up, said, “I love Celia Cruz. The family that lived on the top floor of our building used to play her records all the time.”

Josh’s face caught Laura’s smile. “So it wasn’t all terrible.”

“Of course not.” She was relieved that the conversation had resumed on a lighter note. “I mean, the heat and the plumbing never quite worked the way they were supposed to. Our building went up at the turn of the century, so things were always breaking, but there was also always this sense of how many people had lived in our apartment before we did. My mother and I would find things from time to time, like a scorch mark on the floor from an old flatiron. Or once when we were scraping off wallpaper, we found out that one room had been papered in nineteenth-century sheet music. My mother was very into music, and she was a bit of a romantic like you are, so she forgave a lot of what was sometimes uncomfortable about living there.”

“And you didn’t feel the same way?” he asked.

“I liked the people,” Laura said. “I think that part of it was actually a lot like what you used to imagine. We had a few performance artists as neighbors. The family upstairs had five kids, and their daughter who was my age was my best friend. And then there were the Mandelbaums in the apartment right above ours. They used to watch me sometimes when my mother was busy.” Laura’s smile held a hint of sadness. “They were married for over fifty years, and they were madly in love right up until the end.”

“True love!” Josh exclaimed. “Was it love at first sight?”

“Oh no.” Laura laughed. “They met through a mutual friend one summer at Rockaway Beach. Mr. Mandelbaum was short and already balding, but very hairy everywhere else. Although supposedly he had quite a way with the ladies.” Laura found herself slipping into the cadence and phrasing that Mrs. Mandelbaum had always used when telling the story. Max used to go with Rockettes before he met me, she would say, still proud some fifty years later of having vanquished these statuesque rivals for Mr. Mandelbaum’s affections. “Mrs. Mandelbaum was only eighteen and eight years younger than he was. So when their friend tried to fix them up, Mr. Mandelbaum said, I’m not going out with that child! And Mrs. Mandelbaum said, I’m not going out with that hairy baboon! But somehow they let themselves get talked into it, and they had an awful time. He took her to a roadhouse and left her sitting by herself in a corner while he danced with every other woman there. But later, when he was walking her home, he felt so sorry for the way he’d treated her that he started talking to her. They didn’t stop talking until they got to her door. Mrs. Mandelbaum used to say, And that’s when the love bug bit us both!”

Laura fell silent. She was inexplicably happy to talk about them now, with Josh, but lingering beneath the memories was always the pain she felt when she thought of the Mandelbaums. She was lost so far in the past that she was almost startled when Josh asked, “Did they have any children?”

“A son, Joseph. He was killed in Vietnam. They had a picture of him in his army uniform that they kept next to his Purple Heart in their living room. When I was little I used to think he looked so handsome, just like a movie star.” Laura looked down at Josh’s hands. “He looked a little like you, actually.”

The corners of Josh’s mouth turned upward in a way that accepted the compliment while also turning it aside. “Do any of the people you knew still live there?”

“No.” Laura would have given anything to sound less abrupt, but she couldn’t help it. “The building was condemned and we all had to move.”