Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale (20 page)

CHAPTER 22
 

Joshua managed to see Rachel almost every night. He even changed his routine, making sure he was working in the hall outside the classroom when she arrived. Her presence still made him nervous, even shy. He didn’t know what to say or do to catch her attention. Usually, he simply nodded as she passed, and was rewarded with that same polite smile.

He sensed that Calvin was becoming suspicious. Calvin always left on time, just about when Joshua was taking the broom and dustpan up to the second floor. Earlier that evening, as Calvin was leaving, he turned to Joshua with a curious expression.
Yes
, Joshua thought,
he
must
know
.

Joshua predicted that Calvin’s lecture would come the next day. He would deny everything, of course, and would have to be less obvious in the future. He wondered just how obvious he had actually been, if either Rachel or her father suspected anything as well. That could mean real trouble.
Heck
, he was used to trouble.

In any event, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the charade with the broom and dustpan, and figured this was as good a night as any to break the ice. Lucky for him, she happened to be carrying a biology textbook. It made things easier.

“I see you’re studying biology,” he said, trying to hide his uneasiness.

She was taken aback, faltered, looked down at the book, then at him. “Yes, I am. I’m working at the hospital this summer and I was reading up on things.”

“Me too. I mean, I took biology this past year.”
Good
, he thought, now they were equal.
But
not
exactly
, he still had the broom and dustpan.

“Really!”

He guessed her surprise was because she probably didn’t figure a black kid who was a janitor’s assistant for biology. “Really,” he said, “Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny and all that.”
I’ll
show
her
.

She smiled, this time a bit more genuinely. She knew he was trying to impress her. “And what exactly does that mean?” she asked, a touch of cynicism in her voice.

“Is this a test?”

Now
she
appeared embarrassed. “Just kidding,” she answered.

For a moment she seemed vulnerable, easing some of his anxiety. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you anyway, in case you don’t know, or if you’re confused about it or something.” No harm in a little arrogance.

“You see,” he continued, “it’s like this. The embryo, that’s like the egg that grows into the fetus. Well, it goes through all sorts of changes as it grows, sort of like real people, except it changes fast, and in weird ways too.” He knew he was running at the mouth, but she was listening,
and
ooh,
that
smile
. He couldn’t help himself. “Anyway, as this embryo grows, and goes through those changes, they’re the same changes that the whole species went through as we evolved. That’s what “recapitulates” means, repeating the changes of the species. Cool, huh?” He knew all that studying would pay off.

“Yeah, cool,” she repeated, a bit awkwardly. It was the first time she’d ever used that particular adjective.

“Bet you thought I didn’t really know what I was talking about, huh?” He wondered if he was being too impressed with himself, and coming off like a jerk. She acted amused, so he figured he wasn’t.

The classroom door opened and the men piled out. Rabbi Weissman emerged, and Joshua returned to his work. The rabbi glanced down at the book in his daughter’s hand, seemed to disapprove, and asked, “Vhat is
this
?”

“It’s a biology book,” Rachel answered, trying not to be defensive.

“I thought school vas over?”

“It is, I’m brushing up on things for my work at the hospital.”

“Vhat does this have to do vith your vork at the hospital?”

“Biology, Papa, is the foundation for medicine.”

“Ah, I see.” Reserved. Tentative.

Joshua, overhearing the interchange, found it interesting that Rachel’s father wasn’t pleased about the biology text. He wasn’t at all schooled in the Bible, but knew enough to figure that all that evolution stuff in biology books didn’t quite cut the kosher mustard. He’d never gone to Sunday School. His mother hadn’t talked much about religion, and they seldom attended church. He had, however, learned a lot about the subject from TV, particularly the movie
Inherit
the
Wind
with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Tracy played a lawyer defending a school teacher for teaching evolution, and Hepburn, as usual, played Tracy’s lady. Joshua had enjoyed the movie, and even fantasized about one day being a lawyer himself. When he watched cops, he wanted to be a cop; when he watched lawyers, he wanted to be a lawyer. He never really wanted to be a criminal, but he just never saw any black lawyers or cops on TV.

There seemed to be much unspoken between Rachel and her father. Rachel’s face carried a look of determination, and the rabbi’s bore one of fear. Joshua suspected that Rachel wasn’t typical.

As Rachel and the rabbi walked toward the stairs, Joshua looked down. He concentrated on his work and pretended not to notice them. “Good night, Joshua,” Rabbi Weissman said as they passed by.

“Good night, Rabbi,” Joshua replied, lifting his head.

Rachel said nothing, but as Joshua watched them leave, she turned and caught his eye. Then she quickly turned again, so her father wouldn’t notice. And as they disappeared into the stairwell, Joshua wondered what other little secrets she kept from her father.

CHAPTER 23
 

Midnight, an early-summer heat wave. A small dormitory room with no air conditioning, windows wide open. Clamor from the traffic outside, the forever bustling Eastern Parkway. Paul Sims lay in bed, restless, staring at the ceiling, sweating, mulling over his latest conundrum.

He had just turned eighteen, the customary age of marriage for men in the Hasidic world, and he knew that it was also time for Rachel’s parents to be seeking a
shiddoch
for their daughter. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her to another. So he obsessed, tossed and turned. Nothing unusual, just another thing keeping him awake.

For weeks he’d been unable to concentrate on his studies. Even during the summer, the demands of yeshiva life were endless. Time usually spent on secular studies was now devoted to additional religious studies. There was never a break from learning God’s word.

It was a Saturday night.
Shabbos
ended quite late this time of year, a little after nine-thirty, and from ten till twelve there’d been the usual evening study session in the
Beis
Midrash
, where Paul and his colleagues reviewed their Talmudic lessons, usually in groups of two or three. The following day, Sunday, was just another ordinary day in the yeshiva, not a day off as it had been in Hewlett Bay Academy. Paul was growing weary.

He considered taking tomorrow off, but was reticent. Not because he would get in trouble, but because his absence would be noted and an explanation required. He pondered that, still staring at the ceiling.

His plan was to disappear for the morning, maybe take a walk, clear his head, just get away from all this for a while. He was feeling stifled. He even thought about visiting Loretta. He’d been in Crown Heights for almost five months and hadn’t visited her yet. He missed her, and often considered dropping by, but still hadn’t gotten around to it.

It seemed like a good idea now. He figured he could go over there at around ten-thirty a.m., late enough for a Sunday visit. First, morning prayers with the yeshiva’s
minyan
, then breakfast in the dining room, then the disappearing act. Maybe a stroll past Rachel’s building—
one
never
knows
who
might
be
outside
! Eventually, Loretta’s place. He had her address, she’d given it to him when he left home. “Come any time,” she’d said, “We live right there, and I’d love for you to finally meet Joshua.”

Meeting
Joshua
. Paul wondered what that would be like. He felt as if he’d known Joshua his entire life, yet they’d never seen one another in person. Notwithstanding the few pictures that Loretta showed him through the years, he was sure he wouldn’t recognize Joshua, even if they passed on the street, which—he would soon discover—had actually already happened.

He rang the buzzer for the Eubanks’ apartment, and waited. A faint, muffled voice came through the intercom, asking who it was. He could barely make it out, the intercom was definitely in need of repair. As was the cracked glass on the front door, the chipped tile on the walls, and the busted up mail boxes in the lobby.

He thought he recognized the building from several years ago, when his father had taken him along to collect rent, the only time he’d ever gone to work with Alfred. At first, he wasn’t sure. He was thrown by the disrepair and neglect. But after some scrutiny, he became certain. This
was
one of his father’s buildings.
Why
were
Loretta
and
Joshua
living
here
, he wondered. No one had ever told him about this.

“It’s Pinchas, I mean
Paul
Sims,” he shouted, figuring the reception on the other end was probably just as bad.

The door buzzer sounded, and he entered.
At
least
that
works
, he told himself, approaching the elevator.

A few moments later, he was standing in a dim, musty hallway, facing the door to Loretta Eubanks’ home. He reached for the buzzer, wondering why he hadn’t come sooner. It was strange, considering that she was the woman who’d practically raised him.
Strange
indeed
, he mused, being so close to a person in some ways, yet so removed in others.

He pressed the buzzer, and listened to the latches turning, wondering if it was Loretta or Joshua on the other side. He didn’t have much time to think about it before the door opened.

It was Joshua.

Paul froze. He didn’t believe his eyes, he immediately recognized Joshua as the “black kid” who worked in the synagogue. Now, looking at him more closely, Paul could see the remarkable resemblance to Loretta: tall, slender, handsome.

Joshua, however, didn’t recognize the young man, who appeared to him basically indistinguishable from the myriad of Hasidim he saw every day. He had occasionally wondered if one or another might be Paul, but the face before him was not one of those he had seen before.

They studied each other for a long, awkward moment, until Paul held his hand out and said, “Hi, I’m Pinchas Sims.”

Joshua offered a tense hand, responding, “I’m Joshua.”

A voice from inside the apartment yelled, “Joshua, if that’s Paul, invite him in!”

Joshua stepped aside, gesturing for Paul to enter. Paul walked in, and looked around. Loretta came out of the kitchen, stopped a few feet from Paul, and thundered, “Well, I’ll be! Take a look at you!”

Paul was self conscious, realizing that his getup made him look quite different from the last time she’d seen him. He smiled uneasily.

Loretta stepped up and gave him a hug. “It’s been a long time!” she said.

“It has,” Paul agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner.”

“I see you met Joshua,” she said.

Paul and Joshua simply looked at one another.

“Why don’t we all go sit in the living room,” Loretta suggested, leading the way. “Would you like a cold drink?”

“I’ll have some water,” Paul answered.

Loretta smiled, knowing that Paul chose the water because it was kosher. She got up and went into the kitchen.

Paul and Joshua sat in the living room. The silence was unnerving. He wished he hadn’t come. The animus in Joshua’s eyes didn’t help.

“I’ve heard a lot about you over the years,” Paul said, his voice frail, equivocal.

“Me too,” Joshua answered. Forced civility.

Paul didn’t know what to say next. “I guess you’ve heard that I’m in school just a few blocks from here?”

Joshua nodded.

“I see you around sometimes in
shul
, I mean synagogue.”

“I
know
what a
shul
is.”

Paul nodded apologetically. “I’ll bet you probably know a lot of Yiddish words by now.”

“Some.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?

“Working in the
shul
.”

“It’s okay.”

Loretta’s reentrance seemed a welcome reprieve to both boys. “Here’s some water for you, Paul, and some soda for Joshua.” She placed a serving tray on a frayed oak coffee table.

Paul leaned forward, took his glass, sat back on the couch, and looked around the dimly lit room. He tried to be subtle, but wasn’t doing a very good job. It was obvious that he wanted to see how the “other half” lived.

It was clean, of course; he’d expected no less from the woman who kept his mother’s house. The furniture was worn and rickety, and the paint on the walls was peeling. The dull green vinyl couch on which he sat had seen much use, its torn surfaces covered by a large, hand-knit, rust-colored woolen blanket. The decaying wood floor was covered by a threadbare brown rug to prevent splinters. He concealed his dismay.

“So you boys were talking while I was in the kitchen?”

“Yes, we were,” Paul answered.

Joshua remained silent.

“I’ve actually seen Joshua in the synagogue,” Paul said.

“And you
didn’t
known it was
him
?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s funny all right, don’t you think, Joshua?”

“Guess so.” Impassive.

If looks could talk, the one Loretta gave Joshua would have said,
Get
conversational
!

“How are my parents doing?” Paul asked.

“You haven’t talked to them?”

“Once in a while I call, but you see them every day.” He was discomfited by the question; he’d barely spoken with them at all recently. He knew that Loretta had known this, for there was nothing in the Sims’ home that escaped her awareness. She was only trying to drop a hint for him to be more mindful about being in touch with them.

“They’ve been okay,” she said, “but your mother’s been acting a bit strange lately.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at Joshua, wondering if it was appropriate to discuss this in his presence. She knew he was just waiting for an excuse to leave, and didn’t want to give him one. Reluctantly, she responded, “Well, she’s been real quiet, keeping to herself all the time. She hasn’t been going out much, and she doesn’t ask for much either. I think she’s got a touch of melancholy.”

“I think I will call her later,” Paul said, knowing that he wasn’t really going to, and suspecting that Loretta knew it too.

“Can I bring you another drink?” Loretta asked.

“Not really, thank you. I have to get going. I have to be back for lunch and afternoon classes.”

“Oh,” Loretta said, seemingly disappointed that the boys didn’t get time to talk.

Paul rose from the couch. “Well, it was good finally meeting you,” he told Joshua, as he held out his hand.

“Good meeting you,” Joshua replied indifferently.

Loretta led the way to the door, opened it, and embraced Paul. “Now you know where I live,” she said. “Come
anytime,
whenever you want!” Her eyes welled up, as if she knew it would be a while before she would see him again.

Joshua stood beside his mother, observing her sadness as Paul walked down the hallway to the elevator. He had always been jealous of Paul Sims, for all Paul had, and for the way his mother felt about Paul. But now, it was no longer jealousy that he felt. It was something much more venomous, albeit equally primitive, a feeling with which he was becoming increasingly more familiar as his life progressed: hatred.