276
MARK MIRSKY
"The telephone," cried Mrs. Lux as she tumbled out of bed
onto the cold linoleum in bare feet and began to hop, trailing
blankets, toward the kitchen. The telephone at five o'clock in the
morning? It must be a catastrophe, thought Rabbi Lux. Ye,hoodiss
had other ideas. It must be some piece of information. She bruised
her shin on the bureau going out of the bedroom and stubbed her
toes on the frame of the kitchen doorway in her haste. At that hour
of the morning, it was inevitable that she would slip, collide with
the dinette table and falling, smash. A long bleeding cut on her fore–
head, a black eye, a concussion. . . .
"Ding ding ding ding dong!"
Raising herself off the frosty floor, Yehoodiss snatched the
receiver from the phone on the wall, put it to her ear.
"Is Harvey there?"
It was Mrs. Blatz.
"Wrong number!" Yehoodiss shouted and hung up.
Rabbi Lux tiptoed into the kitchen in his underwear. "What
happened?" he asked. "You all right? I heard a crash. Vey iz mir!
You're bleeding. We better call a doctor." But as Rabbi Lux reached
for the receiver.
"Ding ding ding ding dong!"
"The phone," said Rabbi Lux. And then remembering the call
a few minutes ago, he asked, "Who was it?" Yehoodiss rose from
the chair where she had collapsed and yanked the receiver off the
hook. "Who was it?" she shouted into the phone.
"Rabbi Lux?" came the answer.
"How could it be Rabbi Lux who was it?" cried Yehoodiss,
exasperated. "Rabbi Lux is right here!"
"Is Harvey there?" asked the voice.
"What should he be doing here?" replied Mrs. Lux. Turning
to her husband, she asked sarcastically, "Is Harvey here?"
"Harvey?" The Rabbi repeated the name, bewildered. Then,
he clapped his hand to his head. "Wait a second. Maybe...." The
Rabbi took the receiver from his wife's hand and spoke into it.
"Hello. Is it you Mrs. Blatz?"
It was Mrs. Blatz. She began to talk so rapidly that the Rabbi
had a hard time keeping up. "No, Mrs. Blatz. I'm sure. I haven't
seen Harvey. No. I haven't heard from him. Yes, as soon as he calls,
I
