Among the Living (8 page)

“Fine.” Raymond looked at Goldah. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Ike. I get you back in time for lunch even if I have to saw that door in half.”

“Sounds about the usual kind of fixing you do,” Calvin said. He pulled back the curtain and stepped through to the store.

Raymond waited until the curtain had swung back before reaching over to the cooler for another Coca-Cola. “I see you later, Mr. Ike.”

Goldah sat and drank. He finished the bottle, set it down next to Calvin’s, and imagined this life as his own. It was a foolish thought, imagining what was clearly here: the frayed edge of the carpet, the carbonation in his throat, and the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Ike?”

Goldah stepped to the curtain and pulled it back. The store was empty save for Calvin and a white boy of perhaps fourteen. The boy was dressed in a perfect little suit, with a blue handkerchief folded at the breast pocket and his red hair slicked down to a razor-thin part.

“Ike,” the boy said again, his hand held out. “Jacob Gersons. Good to meet you.”

Goldah stepped through and took the hand. It was rough for a boy so young, and strong. “Hello.”

“You look well, Ike. No wear on you.”

Goldah imagined the boy had been practicing what to say.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Jacob did a quick inventory of the store with his eyes. “Pretty good, ain’t it? And you and me getting right in on it.”

Goldah had trouble following the boy, not just for the words but for the accent. It was duller than the Jeslers’, heavier, and without the polish. Goldah nodded.

“You were a newspaperman.” said Jacob. “That’s what I hear. Newspapers and writing. I been thinking about that, too.”

Calvin said, “Jacob thinking about a lot a things, Mr. Ike. Why don’t you show him the store, son.”

“In a minute, Calvin. In a minute. I’m getting to it. Men got to be able to make introductions, ain’t that right, Ike?”

“ ‘Men,’ ” said Calvin dismissively. “Why don’t you show him the store, son.”

“Yes, men. Like me and Ike. Ain’t I in a nice suit and handkerchief in my pocket?”

“You is, son. You is. Jacob here lives down in Yamacraw, Mr. Ike, but he’s getting himself out a there real soon, ain’t that right, Jacob?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Why you go and tell him that, Calvin? Got to go and tell him about Yamacraw and me here in my suit, and my hair pressed down. What you tell him that for?”

“Well, you
do
live down in Yamacraw, and you
is
fetching to get yourself out.”

“I’m making introductions here.”

“I suppose you is, son.” He turned to Goldah. “Mr. Jesler have Jacob here on Saturdays when he doing his praying. He gives him the suit. Got a cot in the back so the boy can stay
sometimes the night before if we starting in early. Suit stays here the rest a the week hanging in the back. Don’t know where the boy gets his pomade.”

“ ‘Where the boy …?’ ” said Jacob. “I pay for it with my own money, if that’s what you care to know.”

Calvin laughed. “I know you do, son.” There was genuine caring in the way Calvin spoke to the boy. “It’s good what you doing. Mr. Jesler pick a good boy with you, and you get yourself out a Yamacraw real soon.”

“That’s right, he did. Mr. Jesler come up from Yamacraw same as me. And one day I get some boy to do my working when I go to shul for my praying. And Calvin still be here when I do it.”

“Well that’s just a lot a nerve coming from a boy,” said Calvin. He stepped over to the curtain. “You still want them boxes out here?”

Goldah turned to the front door just as the bell jangled and a young woman stepped inside. She wore her hat low on an angle, hiding much of her face from view. Calvin let the curtain fall as he took his place standing at the wall.

Goldah had turned — with the bell or before it, he didn’t know — but something had made him turn, and he now continued to watch the woman as Jacob smoothed down the back of his hair.

“I’ll be right back,” Jacob said quietly. “Just watch. See how it’s done.”

Jacob moved between the chairs and, with a voice Goldah had yet to hear from the boy, said, “Good morning, madam. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?”

The woman remained by the shelf, her back to them.

“Boy’s a natural,” Calvin said under his breath. “Smooth and clean. He’s moving her to the new ones in from Europe, even though he knows she’s coming in just to look. She’ll be trying on one a those before she knows it.”

Sure enough, Jacob had her in a chair within a minute. He called Calvin over. Goldah watched as Jacob gave the styles and the size. Calvin moved quickly back toward the curtain.

“Okay if you come back with me, Mr. Ike?”

Goldah followed Calvin through.

“Best leave the boy to himself. Okay with me standing in the corner, but he don’t feel so important with you looking over him. Good for Jacob to feel important. He’s a good boy.”

They came to a stack near the back and Calvin’s eyes darted up and along the boxes. “Seven narrow,” he repeated to himself. “So you was in newspapers, Mr. Ike?”

Goldah had been letting his mind wander to other things, pleasant things. It took him a moment to answer. “Yes. I was a journalist.”

“And now you in shoes.”

“Yes, now I’m in shoes.”

Calvin found the box toward the bottom and crouched down for it.

“We got a newspaper here in town. Pretty good. Got some Jewish folk working on it. Not fancy like in Europe with the war, but maybe you want to do that some time, it’d be there.”

“Maybe,” said Goldah.

Calvin stood with the box in hand. “You go to college for that?”

“I did. Yes.”

“That’s how come you speak English so good?”

“I suppose so.”

“That’s real fine. And now you in shoes.”

“Yes. Now I’m in shoes.”

Calvin pointed over to another shelf. They found two more boxes and headed back to the front. At the curtain, Calvin handed Goldah the three boxes.

“If it’s okay with you, Mr. Ike, you go on in and hand them to Jacob. It’ll make him feel good to have you helping him. Important for a boy like that. Unless that’s not a good idea according to you.”

“It’s a fine idea, but I think maybe the boy finds himself important enough already.”

Calvin smiled. “Maybe he do.”

Jacob was standing by the shelf, the woman seated with her back to Goldah. He brought the boxes over, placed them on the floor, and Jacob said, “And this is the newest member of the Jesler shoe family.” Again Goldah heard the precision in the words so carefully practiced. “Mr. Jesler’s cousin — from Europe — Mr. Ike Goldah.”

The woman looked up from under her hat and for the first time Goldah saw the sharpness of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. He had no idea of it then, not even the smallest sense, but a feeling of wonder was once again his.

Goldah remained by the back wall with Calvin as the woman paid. She had said only two words to him — “Hello” and “Welcome” — but she had watched his face and Goldah had managed only a weak smile before Jacob had started in on the fitting of the shoes.

She now moved past them. The bell rang and she stepped outside. Goldah watched her past the large front windows, even after she was gone. And Calvin, watching Goldah watching her, headed for the boxes.

Jacob was finishing behind the register. “Knew she’d buy two pair,” he said proudly. “Two pair of six-dollar shoes. Not bad.”

“And how’d you know that, son?”

“I just know these things, Calvin. I just know.”

“It wouldn’t be that she was a De la Parra, would it?”

Goldah had been listening with more interest than he cared to admit as Jacob continued to work through the math. “And how’d you figure that, Calvin?”

“Because you and Mr. Abe always going on about them Saffees. You knew who she was the moment she come in, and you knew she was going to buy them shoes.”

Jacob closed the register. “Well maybe I did and maybe I didn’t but that’s twelve dollars in the drawer. Tell Raymond he needs to deliver the boxes this afternoon.”

Calvin said, “Raymond’s got enough on his plate, son. No one’s stopping you from delivering them.”

Jacob stood there for a moment, and then said, “I’m using the toilet.”

Jacob stepped out from behind the counter and quickly moved through to the curtain. Calvin had the boxes at the counter and set them down.

“I’ll take them back when he’s done. Jacob likes his privacy.”

Calvin rested his back against the counter while Goldah kept his against the wall. The two men stood like this listening to the rattle of the fan as the heat seemed to gravitate to the walls. It was a strange and comforting silence until Calvin said, “You look real smart in that coat and tie, Mr. Ike. Nice fit. Hard to fit a thin man. I should know. Where’d Miss Pearl take you for it?”

“Levin’s.”

“Shirts as well?”

“Shirts as well.”

Calvin saw a speck of something on one of the chairs. He reached over and flicked it away.

Goldah said, “I’ve never heard Italians called Saffees.” He knew it was a poor attempt at spontaneity.

Calvin looked up, momentarily confused. Just as quickly his face cleared and he brushed something from his hands. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

“Pardon?”

“I said you was thinking she was pretty.”

Goldah had been thinking just that. No reason, then, to step around it. “Yes,” he said.

“Good. It’s good to notice a pretty woman.”

Goldah imagined it was.

Calvin said, “Come in all by herself. That’s strange. Women usually work like shoes. They come in pairs.”

Goldah smiled under the heat.

“De la Parra is Jews in Savannah, Mr. Ike. Old Jews. Over two hundred years. Older than me and my own been here. They ain’t no Italians.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Calvin said with a quiet laugh. “You like hearing that, don’t you?” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the back of his neck. “I’d be careful there, Mr. Ike. Like I say she’s a Saffee. That’s a whole different kettle a fish from Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl.”

Goldah had heard any number of names thrown at Jews. Saffee was not among them.

“Saffees is temple Jews,” said Calvin, as if reading Goldah’s mind. He folded the handkerchief into a neat square and placed it back in his pocket. “They get their praying done by eleven. Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl, they go to the AA. That don’t finish up until twelve thirty, maybe one o’clock. Less praying for a Saffee.”

Goldah understood: Pearl had explained it on one of their drives, albeit not in so many words. Saffee Jews were Reform Jews. She had even shown him the temple — “A church with
a few Jewish stars stuck on it.” It was the Sephardim who had been the first to arrive — “Two hundred years of Jews in the South” — but there weren’t all that many of them left. Now it was the German Jews who had brought their easy faith and their assimilation to the temple, “And see how well that turned out for you.” Pearl had grown bolder talking about his past.

Goldah imagined Calvin had never heard the word Sephardim.
Saffees is temple Jews.
It was as simple as that.

Goldah said lightly, “It’s nice to see you keep such a close eye on it all. Who prays when, how long they pray.”

“I been with Mr. Abe close on twenty years,” Calvin said. “My son was fifteen years before he get killed in the war. And now Mary Royal. I even tell you who sits where on Saturdays. Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl close up front but not as close as them Kaminskys. Mr. Kaminsky always right up there on the left. He’ll get you a good car if you need it.”

“I’m sorry about your son,” said Goldah. “I didn’t know.”

Calvin let the weight of it pass. “Yes, suh. Italy 1943. I’m sorry, too.”

Jacob reappeared at the curtain. “Raymond’s back. He says he’ll take you home, Ike.”

Goldah pushed himself away from the wall. Calvin pushed himself up as well. “You got a nice story to tell at lunch today, Mr. Ike. A Saffee coming here all by herself from the temple. Got to get her some Jesler shoes right away. You tell Mr. Abe that. He’ll get a kick.”

Outside the synagogue, Jesler milled about with the rest of the congregation and thought God might have been kinder on a Shabbas. Then again kindness wasn’t really God’s way, was
it? You had to earn everything, even a breeze after two hours trapped inside the sweltering heat.