Do You Want Me To Get Angry

Dina sat in the passenger seat of a Honda, applying green eyeliner. She always did her makeup in the car, when her husband was driving.

“Peter, turn off the sun!” She squinted on the turn; he snickered at her.

“You always say that at the exact same time. What are you working on today? I hope you are not staying late tonight.” Tension resonated in the air with Peter’s last statement.

“Actually, I need to help Allison with her show, we need to alter a few things, and five models are coming tomorrow. We might not be done by five.” Peter’s knuckles were white; he was gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

“Ally is helping me with my collection in two weeks, I have to assist her to return the favor,” Dina plead almost in a whisper, looking cautiously at her husband, half expecting an explosion, that usually came, when her work seemed more important to him, than his content.

“Do you have many orders for today?”

“Three different schools had crashes; I don’t know what those brats do with the equipment. Why do you ask?” Sensing that he is not open for casual conversation, Dina took out her cell phone.

“I will ask your mother to pick up Sasha from daycare, just to be safe.”

“First of all, mom is teaching tonight. Second, I can pick up Sasha, I am not too busy to care about my daughter, unlike some mothers. And third, do you want me to get angry?

“No, dear, I don’t want you to get angry, so pick up Sasha, and come to pick me up at six.”

“Fine!” Peter stopped the car at the School of Design, waiting impatiently for his wife to gather her things. She left the car without another word, and he drove to pick up his first order of the day at the “Geek Squad” office.

Dina walked down a long corridor of workrooms, classrooms, and fitting rooms. A few male models whistled along her way, some heads were turning. “Good morning, Mrs. Goldman.” A professor smiled, passing her by with a form in his hand, the base of which was dragging on the floor leaving a scratch.

Dina entered the workroom number 20. And began setting up for the day, after a mindless “hello” to Allison Smith.

Dina’s moves were slow, graceful and accurate; she took a silver dress with a pinned hem, and began threading it, removing the pins one by one. Even at this tedious task she looked like an angel. Beauty was Dina’s curse since age twelve. Men always complimented her on her perfect body, her curly black hair, her Gipsy eyes, her pale flawless skin and so on. Sometimes those comments were not meant kindly however, and even though she worked herd to maintain it, Dina hated her beauty as well.

Every time the younger kids whistled, as they did this morning, she remembered her daily commute to school growing up. Dina Goldman grew up in Moscow as Dina Yaschik. Her classmates made fun of her last name, which in Russian means wooden box. Her skin broke out at thirteen, and she was very self conscious in front of the class. Not being bright didn’t help either. Every morning on her way to school she was shoved and pushed and called names and insults. “Little Semite, give way! Jewish Tramp go to Israel! The words still rang in her head sometimes, whenever she thought where she would be now, if she hadn’t married Peter Goldman.

“Was Peter jealous and overprotective again?” Alison’s words startled Dina, and she bid her tongue together with the thread she was biting off the finished hem.

“That will come if he sees me measuring Rick or Kevin.” Dina laughed. “This morning he accused me of not caring about my child.”

“Is it because you are helping me tonight? I am sorry I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Don’t wary, Ally, if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. He just thinks that I am running off with all the men that ever look at me, and unfortunately they always do look at me.”

“Who can blame them, but it also seems that he doesn’t want you to have a career.”

“Well, the Russian woman’s career will always be second to her role as a mother and a wife. I do however want these two collections to ace it. I was never a good student growing up, so I want to prove to myself that I am better than all the Cs I used to get.”

“I always wanted to ask you,” Allison seemed to look for words, not sure how to say it correctly. “Why did you pick Peter, you are the polar opposites from each other?”

“Different? You mean he is not hot as a model? I see models every day. I see them all too closely for comfort, and they all want me for looks, for sex, for something else artificial and mindless.”

“Well, yes, but does Peter understand you any better then they do? He seems to be an obstacle for you at the moment.”

“He is now, because it’s crunch time, but he did save me from being raped once. I was coming home late; he was visiting his relatives in the apartment on the same floor. This group of neighborhood hooligans was ready to strip me, and threw the drawings from my portfolio on the street.”

“Oh so he is your knight in shining armor?”

“Some knight, he was even skinnier than then he is now, all he did was whistle in a coach’s whistle, which his grandfather gave him as a present. His grandfather was a swimming coach, whose students won seven gold medals for Soviet Union.”

“I am sure he bragged a lot about that.” Allison was hiding her smile behind an over lock machine.

“The idiots thought it was a cop whistling, and ran, stepping on my drawings in the process. Peter rushed in to collect them, making complements about each one as he gave them to me. Then he offered to show me some reproduction albums that I might like.”

“I can see how that would sweep you off your feet. I wish I took art as a child, I might sketch as well as you.”

“Not all designers sketch, some just drape forms for days at a time. And some are too cynical to be sharing any personal details with.”

“Oh come on, Dina, I am not cynical. I think it is a very good story. Did you know he was going to America? Was that scary?”

“Not at first I didn’t. Why would that be scary? We were all looking for a way to come to America.”

“I always heard those stories growing up about the Irish, the Jews, and the Chinese crossing the ocean with little on their back. Clueless about what they are going to find.”

“Whatever I was to find in Florida was better then what I had in Moscow. You can’t imagine what I felt when I saw flowers in January, and realized I will not have to run after a buss across the iced-over pavement.”

“You could have ended up in a colder state, and what about language and culture?”

“It took me time to adjust, but I did, I am twenty five, but I still have this chance, which I would have never had there. I mean my own show!”

“What about the Bolshoy Ballet, the Kremlin, the museums, the food, all that?”

“I saw it all on TV more than in person, and I still can do that. The food, by the way, came here with our parents. I mean Russia is still the best place on earth for some people, just not for me.”

“So how are you going to make Peter live with the male garments in your collection?”

“I will cross that bridge when I get there.”

It was five-thirty and the girls were back on track, there were a few finishing touches left to iron out before the models were to come for their fitting tomorrow. Suddenly Sasha ran in the room, knocking down a form on her way to her mother.

“Sasha be careful, you will have to buy anything you break. Hello Allison. Dina, are you ready?” Peter’s look of contempt for the world, and intellectual superiority in front of the people present in the room, made Allison a little uneasy.

“How are you Peter? We are almost done. Sasha did you have a good day at kindergarten?”

Dina rushed to put things away, and get ready. A talented woman at work that had a friendly conversation with her classmate was gone. Her sarcasm, her wit, her smile were replaced with the look of fear and obedience.

Sasha took off her sneakers and climbed on to a small platform, which models stand on for pin ups.

“Sasha, stop twirling before you fall and smash your head on something. Put your shoes on; we have to leave.” Peter seemed to be talking to a dog and not a child.

“First of all, I hate those ugly sneakers, second they are too tight, and third, do you want me to get angry?” Sasha looked more like her mother, but her features reminded Dina of this morning quite vividly. She took the girl’s hand, picked up the child’s shoes, and silently followed her husband out of the room.

Peter cherished his wife, as a rare piece of art. He was used to seeing her with him. She accompanied him to parties with family and friends. She was adored by his parents, who saw her as the daughter they never had. Dina was kind, tender, and peaceful. When Peter first saw her she was fragile and weak. She needed support and affection as a child, her self-esteem was almost non existent. Peter was so grounded in his role as the pillar of the family, that this new confidence and drive that his wife exhibited scared him. Peter’s own life seemed to be the mirror image of Dina’s.

Peter Goldman grew up in Odessa. His mother was a teacher in his school, and his father was a sea port manager. Peter has always been the smartest kid in class, his parents adored him, and he always had all he ever wished for. Odessa was famous for the best fish in the world, summer resorts, and Jewish humor. Peter’s friends were all gifted Jewish children groomed for careers in science, music and education. They hung out on the Black Sea shore, improving their quick wit on the sheltered streets, where children walked around care-free and safe.

When the Goldman clan came to Florida they discovered that hundreds of other Goldmans, as gifted and as accomplished as they are, had come there with the same plans for a better future. Peter’s mathematical genius was nothing special without a degree from an accredited American University. His parents didn’t speak English, and the rich uncle, who invited them to America, ended up being an average middle-class citizen. Like most Soviet Union expatriates that flooded the States, they had to start from scratch, working their way from McDonalds‘, kitchens, to appliance store cash registers, to secretarial positions. Some of those new Americans eventually found jobs in the areas of their expertise or new areas of interest; many have reestablished themselves and have found new opportunities so cherished by Dina. But, Peter still had constant reminders of the on going struggle. Many of his friends were not so lucky. Some had never adapted to the changes. One was in jail, another was an alcoholic who couldn’t keep a job, and yet another had sold his violin, and become a car-salesmen.

Priorities and values changed and shifted. The value of family unity and communal living, which has been the key to their survival in the Soviet Union, seemed to clash with the American need for independence and rights of assertion. Grandparents were shoved into assisted living, children applied to schools far from home, and moved out, and siblings talked less and less to each other. Life was busy and fast. Peter was loosing his identity as the center of his family’s universe, and he missed Odessa more then he ever let on.

During his early college days Peter befriended a few Russians of questionable character. Dina had accompanied him to a number of parties where recreational drugs were offered, and inhibitions were lost. Dina’s solution was staying busy and finding excuses not to party or see his new friends. She could not however control his choices, nor did she ever want to do so, since his freedom meant the same for her. Peter’s jealousy and protectiveness of her in front of any men, assured Dina that whatever he did, he would never cheat on her. They both seemed to settle for the comfortable routine. Their lives centered on Sasha, they had their jobs, and family time, as well as time for themselves and their close friends.

Allison’s spring collection got rave reviews. Diana Goldman’s fall collection was the best in her class. Dina has graduated with honors, and was offered a position in New York to design for “Banana Republic”. Dina’s parents and in-laws couldn’t have been happier for her. Peter saw Dina’s achievement as a value increase on his treasure. His own career was not going that well; he was laid off as many computer programmers were at the time.

For the chance to see some of his friends in New York, Peter accompanied Dina on her claim for fame. She was faced with a difficult decision. Florida offered a lot of security. Sasha was in a very good Montessori school, parents were there to help, and new-formed habits felt very safe. She knew that a chance like a “Banana Republic” line will never come again, yet she couldn’t force Peter to move, knowing full well that he would never find a job there. She knew that he would never again be as good as he thought himself to be. Peter had outgrown his wunderkind image a long time ago, and his resume did not measure up to the hype.

Dina was not prepared for all that the job entailed. Designing for “Banana Republic” meant a lot more business management, than she was prepared for. She was getting the run around as the rooky, shopping for fabric, and running errands. Prices were high, the pace was fast, the commute reminded her of Moscow, and Peter was often visiting friends when she needed his help. His attempt at finding a job was fruitless.

Three weeks later the Goldmans returned home. Dina found a job at a local boutique, and seemed content with her life. Peter called in a favor and found work.

The Goldman universe seemed to be in perfect order again.

Peter began to appear places alone. Sasha was spending more time with her grandparents. She was a perfect combination of her father’s brains and her mother’s appearance. By the time she went to middle school, she has mastered the art of polite refusals, and politically-correct compliments, which never truly hid the look of superiority, so prominent in the Goldman clan.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon; Peter came into Dina’s boutique to take her to lunch as a surprise. He was told that she had left for lunch already with Mr. Lee, and that they were in a café near by. Peter knew that Mr. Lee was the manager of the store, but he had never seen him in person. When he approached their outside table, Peter was shocked. Dina was glowing; she laughed as she hadn’t laughed in years, and looked like she did on their first date. Mr. Lee was a tall, handsome man, who’s ethnicity Peter could not determine. The shape of his eyes suggested something oriental, yet his physique and the oval of his face hinted at Native American.

“Hello, I am Peter Goldman, Dina’s husband.” The lunch was cut short by Peter’s flamboyant appearance.

“Jason Lee, very nice to meet you. You are a lucky man. Your wife is a real asset to our company.” Dina blushed. She looked like a school girl who just got an F.

“ I wanted to ask you to lunch.” Peter pulled up a chair, without asking permission to join them. “But I will just ask what I needed to ask instead.”

“Peter we have a business meeting here.” Dina tried to gather her composure.

“Yes I see that.” Peter was fuming again. “Sasha wants to go to a sleep-over tonight; I told her it’s not going to happen.”

“First of all, we planned the seep over a week ago, second, I see no point of talking about it in front of my boss, and third, do you want me to get angry?”

Peter was stunned by Dina’s actions. He was stunned when she rented an apartment and left with Sasha, leaving him alone in the house. And to this day Peter still doesn’t know why she decided to leave.

07.2006