The sun blood-let in the west. It would soon be the Break Fast. Leonard took the chocolates he’d hidden in his desk drawer and held them in the palm of his pale hand.
This had been a poor day for fasting. All sorts of sellers had chosen this day to bother him. Of course, he was friendly and appreciative and had bought everything he could. It was impossible for him to admit the store’s financial difficulties and everyone had left happily. There were three sets of tea mugs and saucers on the desk-table. There was a box of charcoal soap, decorative picture frames, a case of olive oil, and a set of bowls painted with pink loons. He shook a tin container of hard candy.
“We’re late to see Mr. Bloom,” Ruthie said from the doorway. She was dressed in her long brown coat and fur hat. “Are you ready? No, you’re not – please, we must go. Leonard, stop shaking those saucers.” She stepped into the room. “You’re going to break them.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been out of it.” Leonard put on his coat and earmuffs. “My head has been hurting all day. I can’t be doing this anymore.” He traced the loons with a finger.
“You’re not a healthy man,” Ruthie said. “You shouldn’t have fasted.”
“I was feeling alright for a while,” he mumbled. “There’s only something in the air.”
“You shouldn’t have been fasting.”
She took up the grocery bag full of the things for their Break Fast. There was smoked salmon, instant potatoes, sesame crackers, greens and cherry tomatoes for a salad, chocolates, and wine. There were too many things, she’d told him, and was angry they’d spent so much.
“The teacups are beautiful, aren’t they?” Leonard stood over, admiring their artistry.
“Mr. Bloom wanted us at exactly five and we can’t be late.” Ruthie shifted the groceries from one arm to the next as she looked down at their dinner. There was a wondering scowl on her face. She eventually turned and went to wait in the hall.
“Don’t worry about Norman,” he called after her.
“It’s ‘Mr. Bloom.’ Not Norman,’” Ruthie said. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“Please, don’t yell at me,” he said. The dark and terrible reflections suffocated within him briefly showed their hellish faces. “There’s no use in getting angry and resentful.”
“I’m not … I’m only saying … Don’t yell at me.”
“Please …” He heard the ghostly, wicked voices loud in his eardrums. He wished to sometimes fight and curse Ruthie. As well, he was oppressed by his love for her. “I’m sorry. But it’s not right to call him by his last name … you wouldn’t treat his father like that, would you?”
“He’s not his father. He’s much worse,” she whispered.
Leonard joined her in the hall and took one long look back into the office, before he closed the door and led her into the front room of their store. “Norman is a good man.”
“No, he’s not like his father. At least with him, we would get the truth.”
“He will tell us exactly what –”
“He will hem and haw, and you will need to say it for him,” Ruthie said with a tiny sniff. “He was given too much, grew up as a spoiled child and now he …”
Yes, and she could be speaking of me, Leonard thought with a bitter snarl. If it weren’t for his parents to help him, he would’ve been much worse off. He had always been an ill-fitted and misguided man. Everything small and easy was very difficult.
“I’m not worried about Norman.” He coughed a little as he walked about the store, picking up this and that. “I have a good feeling.”
Ruthie loitered by the door. “I don’t like you acting like this. You’re being unserious.”
“I don’t think there’s anything for us to worry over.” Leonard tried to keep the certainty in his voice. He reached into his pocket for the chocolate drops but knew to wait until dusk had fully descended.
They went into the cold street. The streetlamps had been turned on and narrow gold boxes shown on the grey sidewalk.
“I don’t like that you bought what you did,” Ruthie told him again, with a hard and mean-spirited sigh. “We don’t have the money for it. And now you’re smug and acting nice.”
“We need to keep good relations with our clients,” he said. “Anyways, it’s not right for us to be so down about the business. You don’t know what Norman will say. All this worrying could be for nothing … this has always been an up and down sort of career … perhaps it’s for the best that it will soon end.” He rubbed his nose. “Of course, there will be a down period. But we have money saved and there’s no point in struggling with the store anymore if there’s no purpose behind it. I’ve always wanted to do some traveling.” He turned his head but he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I want you to believe that you’re proud of our business and that you cannot think any of this was a failure. Please, believe this.” There was a subdued pleading in his tone. “Even if this is the beginning to the end …”
“We failed,” she said. “I’m sorry to say it. But if you won’t, I will.”
“Do you truly think this was a waste?”
She breathed heavily. Her legs were so stumpy that she needed to skip to keep up. “I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t like pretending that things are well.” Her voice was small. She coughed and it sounded like she was stifling a sneeze. “I might feel better if it was Norman’s father. He was always transparent with his numbers and what he needed. We don’t know where we stand with Mr. Bloom.”
“Forget Norman. I’m talking about the store. You must be proud of what we accomplished,” he urged.
“Why should I be?” Ruthie considered. “I’m a little proud. But there’s no reason to be. We failed in the end. It’s over. Mr. Bloom won’t give us any more chances.” She waived her hands about, almost belligerently.
As they entered Norman’s building, he took her lightly by her shoulders. She allowed him to and looked up into his face
“This will be a good thing,” he said. “Our heads were too caught up in it, and we missed out on too much.” His eyes crinkled. “I’m happy about it. It will be a relief.” He put his arm around her as they went up the stairs. “This was always a bit foolish,” he went on. “We’ve been in this position before and were always given some sort of opportunity to make it right. But what was the point? I’m glad that Norman –”
“I don’t like it that you call him ‘Norman.’”
“Yes, and I don’t like it that you call him, ‘Mr. Bloom,’ but we have our different ways of doing things. That doesn’t matter. He understands how difficult it is to make anything this time of the year. Perhaps we have enough to cover our debt and … Ruthie, anything can be solved with a good season. Norman knows that.” His voice faltered. “Norman is in a big a pickle as we are,” he whispered. “He understands.”
“Good evening,” Norman called from outside his office. “Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman.”
He acts as a boy of twelve, Leonard thought, as he peered up onto the shadowy landing. It won’t ever change. He’s too scared. I hate how he keeps his hands folded over his front. His father should’ve taught him better.
“Hello, Norman,” he called and raised his hand.
He observed Norman’s tight, discomfited smile and was reminded of Mr. Blum’s sneer, and how feared, how despised, how worshipped, that demanding, stark-spoken man had been.
Leonard held Ruthie a little tighter as they climbed the final steps. Despite his nervousness, the sense that they were like convicts walking to the electric chair, he couldn’t help but feel warm and safe, as he always did when Ruthie was with him.
“Good evening, Mr. Bloom,” Ruthie said politely. “How was your holiday?”
“I hadn’t any holiday,” Norman said with a sniffle. The door behind him was dark in the nighttime air but the faint outline of the block lettered U that had once fitted in between the BL and the M could be seen in the watery overhead light. “I was preoccupied,” he whispered.
“That’s alright, Mr. Bloom,” Ruthie told him. “I was only asking.”
Norman offered them both his hand and brought them into his small office. “I’m always run off my feet this time of the year. I get forgetful, especially about the most important things.”
“Everyone is busy all the time,” Ruthie told him as she sat. She held the grocery bag in her lap.
“I was too distracted today,” Norman said. “I ate as I pleased.”
“It can happen to anyone.”
“You will slap me, Mrs. Hoffman, if you saw how I was. I went to my usual café this morning and had already had a muffin before I came to my office. Can you believe that?” Norman slumped in the hard wooden chair across from them. The desk-table was full of stacked papers. A dusty desktop computer sat on one side. “I don’t want to keep you,” he sighed.
Leonard jiggled the chocolates as he looked about the office. He remembered coming into this room with Norman’s father when they were younger men and how Mr. Blum (as he’d called him), had told him of the stomach cancer. It didn’t seem so long ago. It was an absurd thing how ten years could’ve passed since that day. Mr. Blum was dead and his son was grown.
When Norman Blum had allowed them their loan, the entirety of the world had been opened to them. That had been almost fifteen years ago. He and Ruthie sat with Mr. Blum and a notary. They signed papers. Then it was over and they could make their shop. They were too old to start a business and a marriage. People thought them pathetic, for they hadn’t money nor children. Nevertheless, there’s been such delight in being allowed this simple, small thing.
Of course, they’d gotten married soon after they got their loan. They were both prepared to marry, but it didn’t seem to be a very important thing. They married modestly, at the courthouse, for they were much too tired and old to have any big celebration. The spare relatives that’d come to the ceremony were disgusted, or embarrassed, that it was held at the courthouse. Afterwards, they’d all commemorated at the house Leonard had inherited from his parents many years ago. They ate a brisket and the others were quick to leave.
Nevertheless, every day since, they’d gone to work in their new store. They worked well together and there were few disagreements. She was excellent with the customers and he took care of the sellers. In the evening, Ruthie cleaned the front and he did the accounting. Business had been fine for several years. Norman Blum had believed in them and authorized more debt during the slower seasons. But this past summer had been the worse one in a long while and they had too much debt and their business must close.
The business was now to end and Leonard sometimes felt his own blood turn cold-black as oil. Ruthie had become a terse, unaffectionate woman and he was often worried she would leave him. She could leave if she wished. She would have the right to. He only didn’t know what he would do if she did.
“There’s no use beating yourself up over it,” Ruthie told Norman with motherly affection. “I always get headaches if I don’t eat, so I had a little bit of toast this morning. It wasn’t so much.”
“I ate as I usually do,” Norman said into his hands. “There wasn’t any difference. If you saw me, you would be terribly disappointed.”
A silence fell over the room. Leonard studied Norman’s youthful, ironed-smooth face and ugly wire-glasses, and felt sorry for him, how his hands agitated as he shuffled the papers. This was perhaps harder for him than it is for us, Leonard thought. This made him feel a little better. He didn’t know why. Perhaps because Ruthie and he were to soon have a lovely dinner in their home and Norman hadn’t any place to go.
“Business has been hard on everyone,” Norman began. “I believe everyone has overextended themselves. People were promised things they never were to return. Everyone has their promises.” He sniffled.
“It’s difficult when summer ends.” Leonard chose his words carefully. “We sometimes see a bump about now. But that’s not something we can plan for.”
“I understand, Mr. Hoffman,” Norman said. “It’s been difficult for everyone in town.”
“Nothing has changed since our last meeting.” Leonard felt Ruthie clench besides him. He cleared his throat. “Norman, when we did our accounting in August, we knew we would need to have an exceptional month to come out even.” He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Perhaps if the economy had been better … no, we had an average September.”
“Perhaps it could be fixed next summer,” Ruthie offered optimistically. “Things are always up and down, as Mr. Hoffman likes to say. Perhaps we’ll get more vacationers.”
No, they don’t come as they did anymore.” Leonard opened the chocolates. “We don’t have an excuse besides what you already know.” He swallowed a chocolate with difficulty. “We don’t have explanation, nor excuse. I imagine you don’t have good news for us either.”
“We worked hard,” Ruthie said quietly. She looked worried at Leonard, at Norman, out the window as the dusk swept in, and then, finally, at her hands. “I don’t know what to say,” she wheezed.
Norman nodded. “The sun is down,” he said distractedly, and took a box of oatmeal cookies from his desk-drawer. “I suppose we can have a little snack to celebrate it.”
Leonard ate a small handful of chocolates. He offered the box around and sat back in the chair. He fumbled for the tiny prayer. “Blessed in the oneness that makes us holy and brings forth bread from the earth.” There was more to say, but that would be fine for the moment. Leonard cleared his throat. “There’s nothing else that we can say, Norman. I assume you’ve heard all the excuses many times already.” He was disgusted with himself at being so accommodating. He could feel a nasty storm churning within Ruthie’s soul as she sat politely besides him. He couldn’t look at her. “You will know what needs to be done.” He ate a few more chocolates.
“Mr. Hoffman,” Norman said, offering Leonard a plate with a chipped rim. “Put your chocolates on this. Have some cookies. Please.” He turned an oatmeal cookie over in his hand before eating it. “I’ll try to forget about the fast. That was a fine prayer, Mr. Hoffman.”
“Why don’t you take out the salmon,” Leonard told Ruthie. “We’ll have an appetizer before going home.”
She nodded and poked in the grocery bag for it. She took out the salmon and unwrapped it from its brown wax-paper. It was dressed in lemon juice, dill, and large crystals of salt.
“Your dinner,” Norman said as he watched. “Please, don’t open it.”
“It’s alright,” Ruthie told him.
“It’s important to indulge for the Break Fast.” Leonard scrummaged in the bag for the wine. “We can afford to drink a little before going home.” He fiddled with the bottle. “It’s better with family,” he said.
But all of him felt weak and empty as he drank the wine out of the mugs that Norman brought out for them. The mugs were stained from coffee. He’d become more frugal than his father, he observed, and this made him sadder for Norman than for them.
“You must remember the break fasts’ from when you were young,” Ruthie said as she laid out the fish and the crackers in her delicate, artistic way. She had a good sense of style and took satisfaction in their store’s front window. “This will be a little like the old times. Won’t it?”
“I remember,” Norman said dispiritedly. “The salmon looks too good to eat. I can’t bear to look at it.”
“Don’t feel you’re putting us out,” Leonard told him. He held out his hands. “Please, Norman, we can’t eat all this by ourselves.”
Norman stared at the brown office walls. He appeared to be thinking. Sometimes it looked like he’d fallen to sleep. And suddenly, his head darted to the salmon and he smiled. “I’ve fallen behind with all this. I’m sorry.”
“Please, Norman, will you eat with us to celebrate the holiday?” Leonard opened his arms. The matter of their business didn’t seem important now. “You’re a part of our family, aren’t you? In a way? Yes?”
“Am I?” Norman looked at him earnestly, as if he was truly wondering. His mouth opened into a smile, but quickly constricted into the impassiveness he customarily wore.
The wine must’ve already hit him a bit, Leonard thought, for he already felt the warmth in his feet move slowly up his legs and over his chest and down his arms. He felt the strong desire to say something sentimental. “We consider you our family,” he whispered and rested his elbows on his kneecaps. He took a drink of wine. “We’re almost a big, happy family right here. Please, have as much of the wine, of the fish, of the chocolate and anything else. Please …”
“Of course, Mr. Hoffman, of course,” Norman said with a little nod. “But are you sure? Yes? You’re kind.” He took a cracker and a thin slice of fish. “You’re such nice people, much more understanding than anybody else. I cannot tell you how much I’ve been through over the past months. You’re much kinder than anyone I know.”
“It must’ve been difficult,” Ruthie said. “Yes, and you will have the wine too. I insist.”
Norman stared deeply into their faces. “It’s a terrible thing about this town. Strange place. It goes up and up forever, and then suddenly, it’s over … People don’t understand … They think everything was to be the same forever.”
“We remember it here when it was nothing,” Leonard told him. “I will say I’m looking forward to it.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Ruthie’s eyes were large and trusting as she drank more of the wine. “It might be fun to pretend we’re pathetic. But we’re not. Everyone gets knocked down and must get back on their feet … This is a good place. Our store is only –”
“We’re too old to be trying another store,” Leonard grumbled into his sleeve.
“Mr. Hoffman is too cynical and sad,” Ruthie said with a drunken chuckle.
Norman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He tried to make his face noncommittal, but he was still too overwhelmed and childlike. “Business,” he said dryly. “The bank has foreclosed on two of my properties. As ridiculous as it sounds, I envy you. I have little hope … if I understood the futileness of my position, and if I didn’t have any more hope, I would’ve taken today off.” He sighed and pressed his palms into the desk. “You’re not angry with me, are you? I know that you must be. Everyone is. But I don’t have any control over this.”
“Nobody should be angry with anyone else,” Leonard said slowly. “It’s nobody fault. We had a good run here and now it’s over with. That’s all.” He clapped his hands.
“If you knew that, then you wouldn’t have bought all those things today,” Ruthie told him. She’d said it meanly, but her eyeballs twinkled with irony. “Mr. Bloom, the sellers came in with their things today and he couldn’t help himself.” She spoke with increasing excitability and humor. “Don’t worry, Mr. Bloom, this hasn’t any effect on our debt. But isn’t that a hilarious thing? To be so close to the end and still pretend everything is ordinary.”
“There’s usually a bit of a bump in autumn,” Leonard said lamely. “When people come to look at the foliage.”
“Mr. Bloom,” Ruthie said, her breath suspended, like she was to release a big sneeze. “I’m sorry. Hold –” She coughed and breathed out slowly as Leonard placed his hand on her back. “Mr. Bloom, can you please be as honest as you can be. We must close our store – yes?”
“Norman said we will close our store,” Leonard said to her.
“I believe by the end of the year,” Norman said clumsily. “We cannot renew your lease.” He tried to smile. His hand groped for the cup of wine, but it was a bit out of his reach, so his hand rested on the table. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hoffman.”
Ruthie nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Bloom. We weren’t sure what the truth was.”
“No, you were clear,” Leonard told him. “We will be able to give it one last good run. There’s always a bit of a bump around this time.” He pressed his hand gently upon Ruthie’s knee. “Don’t feel so bad for it. Have some more of the wine … this is the most important day of the year after all,” he went on, trying to be kind and humble. “Norman, you look just like when your dad would go and yell at you for something and make you feel all bad. And then make you sit in the corner for a while.” He grinned. “Don’t be so down.”
“I must’ve been yelled at a lot,” Norman said with a laugh. “I feel I was always in the corner, in time-out, being punished for this or that.”
“You were a good boy,” Ruthie told him. “Your dad loved you very much, and he trusted you more than anyone.”
Norman drank a little of the wine. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman.” He pressed his eyes with the back of his hand. He affected like something was stuck in his eye. “It must be something about this,” he said vaguely. “Thank you for being so kind to me about this. I never know how people will react. Of course, people try to lie and fool with me all the time. I’ve had to take such people to court. I’m in the right, according to the contracts.”
Leonard ate the salmon. “They want something for nothing and then start crying.”
“It makes me furious,” Norman went on, shaking his head. “Of course, I had my own debts to the bank. It’s all ridiculous.” He frowned. “Perhaps I will join you in some sort of retirement … maybe a different career …”
“There’s no point in getting all worked up,” Ruthie urged in a soft whisper. “You’re trying your best, Mr. Bloom.”
“I’m not made for this at all, I don’t think, and … yes, one day, perhaps soon,” he rambled. “I’m going to lose my mind and sell off everything, allow the rest to be taken from me, and that will be all and I will –”
“Please, this isn’t the time for whining,” Leonard cried. “Nobody has it so bad.”
A silence had flooded the room. Hidden by the grocery bag, Ruthie gripped his hand. He gestured towards the wine and salmon, the chocolate drops and oatmeal cookies.
“There’s very little for us to worry over and – Norman, let’s finish the salmon. And then you will come home with us for a little dinner.” His voice was almost exasperated and he felt water gather in the corners of his eyelids. “Will you come and spend the night, Norman? Please, Norman. Will you have dinner with us?”
“I cannot, Mr. Hoffman, I … this is all …”
“No, Norman, you must.” Leonard grimaced in expectation of what Norman would say. “Please. You must understand that all that means very little.”