Page 59 of Margins of Love
Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Because she is Jewish.” Arnold’s head hung low.
“Yes.”
“And you are getting married tomorrow, Cous.” Arnold continued. “To someone else.”
Fave did not follow him. The pain in his heart had affected his brain. He sighed his resignation.
“Fave, I will ask you one last time, what did you do to this girl?” Arnold looked at Fave now.
Fave’s eyes must have evidenced his lack of understanding because Arnold sat back to explain. “We have three ways to marry, Cous.” He counted on his fingers just as Rachel had listed his flaws moments earlier in the alleyway. “One, by contract, theketubah, or two, by consumption, the act, or…”
“Three, by a vow,” Fave added.
Arnold nodded.
And then Fave understood Arnold’s concern. He could not marry his betrothed if he had made a promise to Rachel. Now that they found out that she was Jewish, she would be bound by the same traditions.
Fave shook his head.
They remained on the bench, wordless. Disappointed in the world for all the heartache and anxiety rooted in society’s prejudice. It could have all been prevented in a more tolerant and enlightened generation.
Fave recalled every moment he had passed with Rachel in his mind. He tried to find an instant of promise, an inkling of commitment, but he could not find any. She had been liquid in his arms, breathless under his kisses, but there had always been something in the background. Now he knew. She was engaged to be married to someone else. Fave’s despair washed over him like a cloud of octopus ink, too thick to dissipate. He was drowning in the darkness. With every memory of his stolen kisses with Rachel, he fell more and more deeply in love. With every minute that brought his impending wedding closer, he lost another piece of his soul.
Fave remained silent when he arrived home. The house, however, was a pandemonium of activity.
Lizzie shot down the stairs. “You look positively ghastly, brother.”
She was about to rush past him when he asked, “What is this all about?”
“The ball. We have to leave soon.” She looked at him as if she were stating the obvious.
After the day’s events, he had forgotten that Bustle-Smith’s opening of the season gathering was that night. About one hundred of London’s finest would be dining and dancing in her home, and his father would surely be presented with the invoices the next day. Fave had lost all will to hold his back straight. Suddenly, his head felt too heavy for his spine.
CHAPTER39
Fave used his last drop of energy to bathe and let his servant package him in whatever his mother deemed elegant enough for the ordeal of the evening. He donned black evening attire, freshly polished boots. He looked altogether fresh and fit, even though he felt drained and defeated.
“Feivel!” Gustav’s voice shook the house.
Slouching, Fave followed the voice into his father’s study. Arnold was seated already, and Gustav stood behind his desk, clutching a glass of dark amber liquor, a drink Fave knew was reserved for moments of crisis.
“What happened at Pavel’s?” he roared.
Fave looked at Arnold. Resignation and defeat made way for anger and accusation. Arnold’s big brotherly affection had turned into the iciness of his business stare. Fave had always known that Arnold was better than him, with a poker face and drive to succeed where he could not keep up. He knew that he was the heir to the fortune, the business, and the dynastic responsibilities of the Cohanim, but Arnold had the skill. He was raw talent and powerful masculinity. Suddenly Fave felt unworthy, yielding the throne to his cousin.
“I take it Arnold told you everything.”
Arnold shook his head.
“What am I missing?” Gustav asked. And just like Eve, Gustav made the two grown-up stallions before him feel like little misbehaving boys.
“You lost our emerald, didn’t you?” Gustav asked.
Fave exhaled, and his eyes answered for him.
“Is there anything else I should know?” Gustav asked. But he seemed to know the answer.
Fave and Arnold remained silent.
