#chava the marvelous mrs maisel

[toongrrl-blog]

The way Ethan Maisel looked at Chava after she uttered something so blunt that it brought him back to Zelda, who fed and looked after him as her own babe, and Susie, who watched TV with him and hung out with him when she stayed at Grandpa and Grandmas', both who spent more time with him than his parents

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Trick or treat!

It's not done, but here's part 1 of this year's spooky Midge story.

“You know you don’t have to go.” 

Rose Maisel huffs out a sigh as she packs her bags. She’s well aware that she doesn’t have to go. Not only has her father been reminding her for a month, but her mother and grandfather as well.

“I’ll be dead soon, you know,” Zeyde Joel had complained to her the last time they spoke on the phone. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the summer with me?” 

Rose hadn’t said no, exactly, but it was relatively clear that she wasn’t terribly interested in spending the summer after her senior year of high school in Chinatown, doing the same old things she always did with her grandfather. 

Her paternal grandmother is rarely around long enough for a visit, but to Rose, the woman is fascinating. Famous and glamorous, and funny, but lonely, too. Her father and aunt don’t have much to do with their mother, and Rose’s own mother thinks the older woman is a monster.

To Rose, Grandma Miriam just seems lonely. Even with a slew of famous friends and a schedule so packed she hasn’t made it to a Passover Seder since Rose was little, there is something solitary about the woman, and Rose feels like maybe she can help with that.

“I know I don’t have to go,” she tells her father. “But I want to. I want to get to know her before it’s too late.” 

Her father sighs, a hint of sadness washing over his strong features. “There’s not much to get to know. If you’ve seen one of her comedy specials, you kind of know all there is to know about her. That’s just who she is now.” 

“But maybe it’s not,” Rose offers.

“That’s very sweet of you to think so,” he says, before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay. But if she drives you crazy, you call and your mother and I can come and get you.” 

She huffs out a soft laugh. “Okay, Dad.” 

***** 

Midge Maisel’s house is enormous, and beautiful. Right on the Long Island Sound. You can smell the salty on the air from the water, and off in the distance, Rose can see ducks heading for the beach. 

Her mother takes her hand as they stand in front of the house. “Call regularly,” she orders. “And don’t let that woman push you around.” 

“I won’t,” Rose promises. “She really lives here all by herself?” 

“Her and her ghosts,” Chava Maisel responds. 

It’s an odd sentence and Rose tilts her head, ready to ask about it, but before she can, the front door swings open and her grandmother rushes out.

“You’re here!” the older woman cries, rushing up and hugging Rose tightly. “Let me look at you,” she says, pulling back to take account of her granddaughter. “Ugh. You’re gorgeous. Look at this curly hair, and those cheekbones. To die for.” 

Rose hears her mother grumble something that sounds suspiciously like ‘go right ahead,’ and grins at her grandmother. “Hi! How are you, Grandma?” 

“I’m fine,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “Just taking a little time off, and I’m so glad I get to spend it with you! I have so many plans for us. We’ll get our hair done, and our nails, and we can go shopping.” 

Chava clears her throat loudly before Midge can keep talking, and the older woman whirls to look at her daughter-in-law. 

“Chava! You’re here, too!” 

“Hello, Mrs. Maisel,” Chava responds with a tight smile.

Grandma Miriam nods slowly, her lips pursed. “Still haven’t discovered conditioner, I see. I’ll have my hair stylist send you an email with some recommendations. Don’t you worry.” 

“Okay!” Rose cries, trying for a big smile. “Thanks for driving me, Mom. I will definitely call.” she hugs her mother tightly, before tugging on her rolling suitcase. “Bye!” 

“Is that all you brought?” Grandma Miriam marvels. “How do you pack so light?” 

 Chava sighs heavily, watching them go, before getting back into her car to drive away.

*****

The inside of the house, like the outside, is beautiful. Decorated in warm tones, with imported marble floors in the front hall. The living room holds a grand piano with a slew of framed photos settled atop. 

Oddly, there are very few family photos that Rose can spot. Her father’s baby photo in a small frame. Her aunt’s wedding day photo. Rose’s own school photo from the first grade, and a few older photos of her sister and cousin, but nothing recent. 

“Wow, Grandma, your house is really something,” she comments as she’s given a tour through the first floor.

“Thank you,” Grandma Miriam beams. “I love this place. I loved it when I first saw it, and I love it even more now that I’ve spent so many years making it my own.” 

Rose smiles as she’s showing the beautiful dining room, and the enormous kitchen, which she wanders around, inspecting ovens and stoves, refrigerators. 

“You like kitchens?” Grandma Miriam asks. 

“I do!” Rose enthuses with a grin. “I’ve been accepted to culinary school.” 

“That’s wonderful!” Grandma Miriam crows. “I used to love to cook, you know.” 

“You don’t anymore?” Rose asks. 

The older woman shrugs and gives her a sheepish grin. “There’s not really anyone but me to cook for, so I don’t really have a reason to. And I have a cook who makes most of my meals now. It’s just easier that way.” 

“Well, maybe we can cook together while I’m here,” Rose suggests. 

“Maybe,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “It might be fun.” 

Rose is about to respond, but gets extremely distracted with the pink Kitchenaid stand mixer in the corner. “Ohmygod.” 

Grandma Miriam laughs. “Note to self: leave Rosie the stand mixer in the will.” 

“It’s so pretty,” Rose breathes. 

“I never really had a chance to use it,” Grandma Miriam shrugs again. “Come on. I’ll show you the upstairs.” 

Rose nods and follows her up the back staircase to the second floor, where, presumably, the bedrooms are. “Do you have a lot of staff here?” 

“Not really,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “A cook or two. A couple of housekeepers. Nothing too extravagant.” 

Rose purses her lips, mulling that over. “Her family doesn’t have any of that. It’s just the four of them in the brownstone in Brooklyn. Rose, Mom, Dad and Shira. They do all the housework and cooking. It feels strange to have people do those things for you, but Rose supposes that with Grandma Miriam being so much older, and living by herself in such a big place, it only makes sense.

“This is going to be your room,” Grandma Miriam tells her, opening up a door at the end of the hall.

It’s another lavish room; the canopy bed is enormous, and soft-looking and there are bay windows with a perfect view of the Sound. There’s even a little TV sitting on top of the dresser. 

Rose looks around, stunned, as she takes it all in. “Whoa…” 

Grandma Miriam beams. “I’m glad you like it. My room is just around the corner, near the stairs to the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?” Rose asks. 

“Nothing, really,” Grandma Midge responds, waving a hand. “Just some old things. I use it for storage.” She beams at the young woman, reaching out to brush her curls away from her face. “You get settled. I am going to talk to the cook about what we’re having for dinner.”   

“I could cook,” Rose offers, watching her. 

Her grandmother waves a hand. “You just got here. Relax.” 

Rose watches her grandmother bustle away, before looking back at her new room.

“Right,” she breathes out. “Relax.”