Modern Girls (36 page)

“So,” Willie said, taking my hands in his. My first instinct was to pull them away, but then I remembered,
This is my husband.
Holding hands in public was permitted.

“So,” I said back with a smile.

“I had no idea you were good with numbers.”

Shrugging, I said, “Why would you? There’s not much call for arithmetic at the Second Avenue café or at Camp Eden.”

Chuckling, he said, “True, true.”

When the coffee came, I was sorry, because it meant Willie had to pull his hands back to make room for the cups. His hands had felt nice on mine.

“This job will be a boon for us,” Willie said. “You’ll be privy to all sorts of information. You’ll be my best source.”

Pleased, I sipped the coffee. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll be
doing charitable work and earning an income.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “Not that we need my income, of course.”

Willie laughed. “Do you think my masculinity depends on my wife not working? If the job works out, perhaps we’ll use that money to hire a girl to watch the baby once he’s born.”

Startled, I sloshed my coffee.

“Are you opposed? I mean, of course you
can
quit when the baby is born, but it seems a shame to lose valuable contacts because of a child.”

On the one hand, he saw the child as an impediment, and it was hard to envision someone else taking care of my baby. On the other hand, this was the first time he had alluded to us as a married couple after the baby was born. Divorce wasn’t on his mind. As long as I remained a source of information for Willie, he’d want to keep me around. The work did sound exciting. And if the precedent was set of having a girl watch the baby, perhaps one could continue to do so when we returned to America and I
could
study accounting. Shaking my head slightly, I had to remember not to get ahead of myself. One step at a time.

“Why don’t we see what happens when the baby comes?” I said. “Who knows what Europe will be like and where we’ll be?” I tried to imply that if we weren’t in Paris, perhaps we’d be in London or Amsterdam, when really I was hoping we’d be back in New York.

“Yes, of course.” Willie added, “But a possibility?”

Setting my cup down, I placed my hand on Willie’s. “A definite possibility.”

Willie’s tone took on a dreamy quality. “I’ll write brilliant exposés with the inside dope you bring me.” He paused for a moment, listening to the chatter at the next table. Leaning in, he whispered, “Listen. The Germans are everywhere. Do you hear that couple at the next table?”

I glanced over and saw a couple, not much older than us,
looking at the menu in seeming confusion. They sat stiffly, and it was clear from their movements that they were greenhorns.

“Do you think they’re talking about Nazis?” Willie whispered.

I listened to the man and woman briefly and patted Willie’s hand. “They’re a real threat to democracy! Discussing whether they should just split a pastrami sandwich or splurge and also order chicken soup.” I laughed, but stopped quickly as Willie sat back hard in his seat. What did I say to upset him?

The food arrived. Self-consciously, I cut my
kishke
. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked Willie, who was still sitting back, staring at me. I nibbled at my food.

“You don’t actually speak German, do you?” he said slowly. “You were guessing at what they said.”

“You’re right. I don’t speak German.” I took the napkin and dabbed the corners of my mouth.

Willie looked crestfallen.

“But,” I said, taking another bite, “I understand a good deal of German.”

He perked up again. “How do you mean?”

“You know that Yiddish and German are similar. I’m helpless if I have to
speak
German, but I can usually make out some—not all, mind you—of what’s said.”

“Can you read a German newspaper? Eavesdrop on conversations?”

“I won’t get every word, but, yes, I can.”

Willie looked as if he had won a prize. “Well, isn’t that something? What an asset you’re turning out to be.”

Willie couldn’t stop smiling, and it was contagious. Picking up his sandwich
,
he said, “I think bringing you to Europe is the best idea I’ve ever had!”

I prayed the feeling would keep.

Wednesday, September 11

MY fingers were raw with all the sewing, but Dottie’s wardrobe would be first-class.

“Ma,” Dottie said, “you’ve done enough.”

I ignored her. “Dottala, move that light closer to me.” I strained to see the grain of the fabric.

Picking up the lamp, Dottie tried to angle it in such a way to shed more brightness, but it did little good. “Ma, I have plenty. Stop working.”

“A little more won’t hurt,” I said. My voice was gruff, but it had to be. Nothing would be simpler than crawling into bed and mourning the loss of my baby girl. Nothing would be easier than succumbing to the ache that reminded me of losing Joey, of the miscarriages, of the dear soul that had departed only two weeks ago. Sewing required enough concentration that it kept the images from invading my head, images of my daughter, alone in Europe, becoming a mother without me. It was easier to stay up all night than to sleep, where nothing could keep the dreams away.

I nodded toward the credenza. “You will take Yussel’s last letter? It has his address and his plans, so you can use it to assist him.”

Dottie took the letter and placed it in her clutch. “I will keep this safe with me the entire time, Ma. I promise I will do whatever I can to get him out of Europe.”

My daughter made me so proud. It was difficult to contain
my emotions, but I didn’t want another evening to dissolve into tears. “I’ve taken the rest of the money from the tin,” I told her, “and sewn it into the lining of your suitcase.”

She started to protest. “But you could use that money for Izzy’s schooling or save it for when Yussel comes—” I cut her off.

“It’s for your return trip. Promise me if anything goes wrong, you’ll be on the next boat back. No hesitations. You and the baby. If Willie wants to come, fine. This isn’t enough for a third-class ticket, but if you start to save right away, you’ll soon have enough to get you back to New York.”

“Money isn’t going to be a problem for me. Willie’s allowance may seem small to him, but it’s enough for us to live in luxury.”

“I know,” I said. “But you know it doesn’t hurt to have a stash on the side. Just for you and the baby. Enough for you to come home.”

“I will keep it, just in case,” Dottie said. “But understand, I don’t want to come home. I am going to make my marriage work.”

“Then you’ll make it work.” Considering a moment, I said, “In some ways, Willie reminds me of your
tateh
.”

Dottie’s eyes widened. “How?”

“Your
tateh
was a hothead. Passionate about that union work as your Willie is about reporting.” I smiled, reminiscing. “But I convinced your father to be sensible. He still attends union meetings, works himself into a lather occasionally, but he’s no longer putting himself in danger. Remember, women make the decisions. We just can’t let the men know it.”

Dottie chuckled.

“Oh,” I said, remembering. “The phone! You remember our phone number?”

“Yes, Ma. Tompkins 64562.” Her voice was soft enough to alarm me, to make me look up from my needle.

“Dottala, you will be fine. I know it.”

Her voice broke as she asked, “Ma, how will I do this?”

I don’t know,
I wanted to say.
You shouldn’t. You should stay
right here with your mama, where you’ll be safe and I’ll take care of you and the baby.
But that wasn’t the right thing to say. So I did the best I could. “You just do it. You cannot think about it too much. You just act.” I returned to my sewing, my hand moving up and down rhythmically. My motion was as smooth as any machine. “It’s like prayer,” I said. “You say the words over and over whether you feel the prayer or not. And then, in those rare quiet spaces, suddenly the prayer embraces you, and you see the truth of it. We do the actions and hope for the meaning. Sometimes it comes sooner. Sometimes we have to wait for it. But we keep praying. We keep doing.” I looped the thread into a knot. “You go with Willie. You raise your son or daughter. You will find the meaning.”

Dottie slid her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “What if I don’t?”

I shrugged. “Then you don’t. But still you must
live
.” I looked my Dottala in the eyes, those big sad eyes. “You will always have your mama and your
tateh
here. Remember that. Let it keep you strong.”

Picking up a collar I wanted to embroider, I squinted. “Ah, my eyes are too old for such small work.”

“Your work is as beautiful as ever, Ma.”

“You should have seen what it was like twenty years ago.” I glanced at Dottie again, and she looked so forlorn. I thought about the night before I’d left home, lying in my bed, holding tight to Eta. My knowledge of the New World consisted of bits and pieces from my brother Heshie’s letters. I can still feel our hard straw mattress, the warmth of the down comforter, the sweet smell of Eta’s skin; as terrified as I was, I also felt like my real life was about to begin, and it was thrilling. Dottie must be feeling the same way.

I set down the work and walked over to the credenza. Without hesitation, I picked up two of my four
Shabbes
candlesticks and turned to my daughter. “Take these with you.”

She startled. “How can I take your candlesticks?”

“I’m giving you two. I will keep the other two. You’ll need them. To make
Shabbes
wherever you are. You will have a piece of me when you are gone. When you light the candles, you’ll think of me lighting mine. And when you return to America, I will give you the rest of the candlesticks. Because when you come back to America, we will both be complete.”

I saw Dottie begin to tear up. “I don’t need anything to remind me of you. I will think of you every day.”

“Of course you will. And I will hold you in my heart. But how nice to think of each other as we usher in
Shabbes
.”

She hesitated. “Willie doesn’t make
Shabbes
.”

“So you’ll do it after he’s left for the evening. You’ll do it for your child.” I smiled at her. “At this point, what’s one more secret?”

Taking the candlesticks in her hands as if they were gold, she smiled. “Another secret won’t hurt.”

Moving back to the couch, I said, “Hand me the green thread.”

When she brought it over, I glanced up, and caught sight of the clock. “
Ach!
Don’t you need to meet your friends?” Her final night in New York, it was important she see all that she was leaving behind. It would give her all the more reason to come back.

“I should stay here with you,” Dottie said.

“No.” I stitched the leaves. “You go have a night of fun.”

“I want to stay with you, Mama.” Dottie’s eyes started to tear up.

“Oh,
bubelah
,” I said, putting aside my work. I didn’t know if she meant tonight or always. I stood and gave her a kiss on her cheek, holding her arms in my hands. “Don’t stay here with an old woman. Go out. Be with your friends.” I looked her deeply in the eyes. “Remember, you must
live
.”

And with that, I pushed her out the door, before she could protest anymore.

Wednesday, September 11

IF I could have, I would have stayed with Ma. But as much as I didn’t want to leave the house, I would have been devastated to get on that boat without saying a proper good-bye to my friends, without having one last night out with the girls. I met them at the café on Second Avenue, the place that in my previous life had been all about fun and romance and being with friends. But now, as a married woman, about to sail away from every person and every thing I ever knew and cared about, the café seemed as inviting as a slaughterhouse.

The solemnity of the occasion was proved by Zelda, making a rare appearance on a weeknight. With a forced smile, I fished for inanities about which to chatter. Was it really less than a month ago I’d sat here with Abe, caring only about my job at Dover Insurance and what fashions I could buy with my salary? Now at the same table, Edith and Linda gave me sidelong glances, unsure of what to say.

“Ah, baloney,” Zelda said, breaking the silence. “This is a send-off. Where’s the cheer? This is exciting!”

“Sure it is, sweetie,” Edith said. Her smile was strained.

Linda was still sweet Linda, but now that Ralph was gone, she was already starting to develop a crust, an edge of bitterness that was unattractive. I knew of women who ended up alone,
how hard they became, angry at the world. I hoped Linda would avoid that fate. After all, Edith didn’t seem unhappy.

The door to the café opened, and I startled. But it was a group of high school girls out for a romp.

Zelda placed a hand on mine. “I checked. He’ll be at the store all night.”

“Of course,” I said, both relieved and disappointed. I knew I’d crumble at the sight of Abe, but that didn’t stop me from longing for a final glance of the man who I had thought was my
beshert
. But he wasn’t, was he? My fate was different from what I expected. I needed to accept it.

“So what’s your plan?” Edith asked.

Pray until I mean it,
I thought. “We’re going to Paris. From there, he may travel, but I’ll be staying put so I can work at the JDC.”

“At least Paris is safe,” Edith said. “Haven’t you read about the restrictions being placed on Jews in Germany? He wouldn’t go there, would he?”

“He will go where the story is,” I said, trying to show a confidence I didn’t have.

“Aren’t you worried?” Linda asked.

I looked from Linda to Edith to Zelda and back to Linda before admitting, “Terrified.”

“Aw, sweetie,” said Zelda. “Focus on the good. Like, how do you like married life?” Her tone and wagging eyebrows left no doubt about what she meant. I was grateful for the change of subject.

“Zelda!” Linda said. “That’s private.”

“Oh, why can’t we talk about it?” Zelda said. “Don’t be so old-fashioned!”

For the first time that night, my smile was genuine. “I had no idea it would be so . . .” How to describe the sensations? Words couldn’t do justice. “So exhilarating.”

“They don’t teach you
that
in school, do they?” said Zelda.

“Really that good?” Edith asked.

“Divine. Truly divine. No matter what else happens, we have that.”

Everyone nodded, trying not to think about what could happen in Europe.

“I still worry,” Edith said.

“We are going to do amazing work in Europe,” I said, feeling defiant, “and return as heroes.”

Linda held up her beer. “To Dottie and Willie. May your ‘for better or worse’ be far better than worse.
L’chaim!
”

•   •   •

FOR my last night in New York, I decided to sleep at home, although it worried me to leave Willie by himself. Things had been going so well for us, and he hadn’t brought up divorce since our wedding night, but I didn’t know what he might get up to if left to his own devices. However, as of tomorrow, it would be just the two of us. For six months, we’d have only each other and then we’d have our child. My last night, I wanted to be with my family.

When I returned to the apartment, Ma was still sewing, sitting on the couch.

“Go to sleep,” I said.

“I’m almost done,” she said. “But you. You need your sleep. I will clear the sofa for you.” She started to stand and move to the table.

“No, don’t.” I looked around the room, the room that had been my bedroom for so many years. Nothing about it resembled a proper bedroom—this was our living room, after all—but it had been mine. Tonight, though, I didn’t want to be alone. “I’m going to sleep in the boys’ room.”

She sat back down.

I slid off my dress and slipped on the nightgown that Ma had pulled out of her room, so as not to disturb
Tateh
. It was old, one not worthy of a married woman, but was well-worn and smooth on my skin. I would miss this nightgown. I turned to go into the other room, but a thought occurred to me. “Ma?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll take care of Eugene for me. Won’t you?”

She was about to speak, perhaps reprimand me for my insolence, but instead she pursed her lips and nodded. “Of course. Sweet dreams, my
bubelah
.”

“Sweet dreams, Ma.”

In the boys’ room, I spied Izzy asleep on the mattress on the floor, and Alfie and Eugene curled up in the bed. I slid between the two. They stirred momentarily. I looked at them, wondering when I would see them again. “I’m going to miss even you, Alfie,” I whispered, tousling his hair.

“I guess I’ll miss you, Dottie,” he said sleepily.

I smiled and rolled over to my Eugene. Slipping my hand over his body, I pulled him close to me. “I love you, Eugene, more than anything in this world.” He was fast asleep, but I hoped the words would sink in, that he’d hear them inside, that he’d know I wasn’t abandoning him.

Staring at the rise and fall of his chest, I was certain I’d be awake all night, but soon I was lost in a fitful sleep.