No One Must Know (13 page)

She took a deep breath and then, in a dignified voice, said, “Excuse me. I must go and talk to somebody.”

I was hot on her heels, dragging Mom behind me. Neither of the other two women followed us or called after us to apologize. We caught up with Jutka by the teak dining-room table. It was overflowing with tiny cucumber sandwiches and glasses of Coke. When Jutka tried to
pick up a plate, her hands shook so violently that she dropped it back onto the table with a loud clatter. I flung my arm around her shoulders. I was so angry at those women that I wanted to throttle them.

“I’m so sorry,” Mom said.

“Ignore those stupid women!”

“How dare they?” said Jutka. “Who do they think they are? Who do they think I am? Agi, to deny who you are for the sake of…” she sputtered. “And not to defend yourself!” She bit her lip and stopped talking.

“You don’t understand,” Mom countered.

“No, I don’t understand! You’re not being fair to your daughter.” She smoothed her hair back into place and seemed to calm down. “But this isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.”

Mom nodded gratefully.

I piled half a dozen party sandwiches on her plate, and we sat down in a corner of the living room, away from the rest of the group. Jutka and Mom talked about her childhood in Hungary before the war. Their quiet voices brought to life the joys and sorrows of two young girls, decades ago, in a small country on the other side of the ocean.

“Did you enjoy yourself at Agi’s meeting, Jutka?” Dad asked at the dinner table that night.

Jutka cut a final mouthful from the sweet cottage-cheese crepe on her plate before replying. “It was interesting,” she finally said. “They’re very fashionable ladies.”

Neither of the two women mentioned the rudeness of the women at the party, so I kept my mouth shut as well. Dad looked a little confused, but he didn’t pursue things.

“I don’t understand why you haven’t planned your birthday party yet,” he said, turning to me.

“I have to talk to Jean first.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. “Jean’s been acting so funny lately. I’m not sure she wants to have a party with me.”

“Did she say that?” Dad asked.

I shook my head.

“Ask her,” he said. “Then at least you’ll know where you stand.”

“I don’t care…. Maybe I’m too old for birthday parties.”

“I am
not
too old,” Dad said. “People celebrate their birthdays all through their lives.”

“I hope you can work out your problem with Jean,” Mom said. “The two of you always had such a good time. What did you fight about?”

“Why do you keep going on about it? It’s my birthday and my business!”

“Don’t use that tone with your mother!” Dad said.

“If I decide not to have a party, you can’t make me have one,” I said, jumping up from my seat. “I’m going upstairs!”

“Sit down!” Dad barked. He shook his head. “Nobody will force you to have a party, Alexandra. We just don’t understand why you don’t want one–if not with Jean, then by yourself.”

When I didn’t answer him, Jutka broke the tense silence.

“Your crepes are wonderful, Agi,” she said. “Just like the crepes your grandmama used to make.”

“Do you remember how we used to exchange recipes in the camp?” Mom asked.

“How could I forget?” Jutka said solemnly.

“I got this recipe in Auschwitz,” Mom explained to me. “We were so hungry all the time, but we never stopped talking about food.”

Dad put his cutlery down. “The pancakes are terrific, but I am so stuffed I can’t eat another mouthful,” he said, patting his stomach.

“So am I,” said Jutka.

When we had cleared the table and washed the dishes, Mom turned to me and said, “Your father only wants what’s best for you, dear. If you’re not going to have a party with Jean, you should have one by yourself.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know if I want one.”

She sighed. “Well, promise me that you’ll at least think about it.”

“Okay, promise.”

I knew she wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed.

M
y parents let me stay home from school to say goodbye to Jutka. We drove her around and showed her the sights. The car was filled with chatter as she and Mom talked about their days in the old country.

After lunch, it was time for Jutka to leave. With many tearful farewells and promises to write, we drove her to the railroad station downtown. I ran along the platform waving to her as the train pulled out.

By the time we got home, it was too late for me to go to school, so I spent the next two hours half-heartedly tidying the drawers of the dresser in my bedroom. When I realized that I’d lost myself for several minutes staring
at the ballerina dancing in my jewel box, I gave up trying to keep busy and sat down on the edge of my bed to think over everything Mom had told me. I tried to guess how my friends would react if I told them my news. Would they still want to be friends with me? I was pretty sure that Molly wouldn’t think it was a big deal. But Jean? Would she want to share her birthday with me if she found out that my family was Jewish? I missed talking to her so much, and I so wanted us to be friends again, but I couldn’t forget her attitude toward Jacob. Did she dislike Jacob, I wondered, because he was Jewish? It didn’t make any sense.

For the first time, it entered my mind that Jacob was having trouble making friends at school because he was Jewish. What would happen to me if I revealed our family’s secret? Would the kids in my class still like me? Nobody was beating down Jacob’s door with offers of friendship, that much was clear.

I realized that Jacob was the one person who would be pleased to hear my news. I checked my watch. He would be home from school by now. I ran down the stairs to the phone and was already dialing his number before I remembered my promise to Mom. As soon as the receiver was back on the cradle, however, the phone rang. It was Jacob.

“I was just going to call you,” I told him.

“What about?” he asked.

“Just to say hi.”

“I have to talk to you.” He sounded serious.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, but I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Let’s meet at the Salisbury House,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything there.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” And with a click, he was gone.

As I went to my closet to get a jacket, I passed the dresser mirror and caught a glimpse of my reflection. I stopped to tidy my ponytail. I pinched my cheeks and put on the light pink lipstick Mom had finally agreed to let me wear. The pink blouse I had on made my skin look whiter, and the thin gold cross gleamed brightly at my throat. Without thinking about it, I slipped it under my collar before I left the room.

I went into the kitchen to find Mom. She was sitting at the table peeling potatoes.

“I’ll be out for a while,” I explained. “Jacob wants to talk to me.”

“You look nice, but where’s your cross? You must wear it all the time!”

I pulled out the gold chain and let the cross nestle on top of my shirt.

“Much better,” Mom said as she kissed me goodbye. As soon as I was out of her sight, I slipped the necklace under my collar once again.

I made my way along the gloomy street, past barren trees. I turned the corner and the red roof of the Salisbury House stood out starkly against the glowering sky. When I entered the restaurant, I was wrapped in its sudden warmth. I stopped in the doorway, listening to the buzz of conversation around me. The entire place was hazy from cigarette smoke, and it took me several moments to spot Jacob in a green booth at the far end of the room. He motioned for me to come over.

As I crossed toward him, I saw Jean and Isabel in a booth to my left. They were talking to a girl with long blonde hair with her back to me. They saw me the same instant that I saw them. I raised my hand and waved. Isabel grinned and waved back, but Jean’s hands remained clasped in front of her on the table. She leaned over and said something to the girl across from her. When she turned around, I saw that it was Christie Sutherland.

“Oh hi,” Jean mumbled when I stopped beside their booth.

“Hi, Alex. It’s nice to see you,” said Isabel.

Christie kept quiet.

“I’m here to meet Jacob,” I said, pointing in his direction. “Come and sit with us.”

“I’d like to, but I have to go home now,” Isabel said with a friendly smile.

“I don’t think so,” Jean said. “I have to discuss something with Christie – something private.”

I stared at her, speechless.
Private?
What could she want to keep private from me, her best friend?

“Okay,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage. “Well, we should get together soon to plan our birthday party. Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow?”

Jean shot a glance in Christie’s direction before stammering, “We’ll see.”

“We’re running out of time. Our birthday is a few weeks away.”

“I’ve been busy. I’ll let you know when I have time.”

She sounded like a total stranger.

“Well, I better go,” I said. “Jacob is waiting.”

“I’ll phone you,” Isabel said.

Jean said goodbye, but Christie didn’t even deign to look up. As I made my way to Jacob’s booth, I could hear her and Jean whispering to each other and giggling. I was certain they were talking about me.

My feelings were so hurt that I had to swallow hard to prevent myself from crying. It was a relief to reach
Jacob’s booth. As soon as I slid into the vinyl seat, he took my hand under the table.

“Your friend Jean doesn’t like me,” he said, nodding in the direction of the booth where the girls were sitting. “I waved to her when I got here, but she didn’t wave back.”

“Maybe she didn’t see you.”

“She saw me,” he said. “I can’t say I was surprised. I told you before that the kids around here are less friendly than the kids at my old school in Toronto.”

“Not all of them.”

We were interrupted by a white-aproned waitress. On her bosom was a fancy handkerchief with a badge announcing that her name was Ethel.

“Have you decided yet, or do you need a few more minutes?” she asked.

“I only want a Coke, please.”

“You should have something to eat, Alex,” Jacob said. “It’s my treat today.”

We agreed to share an order of french fries, and the woman left.

“You said you wanted to talk to me. Is something wrong? You sounded upset when you called,” I said.

He let go of my fingers. I noticed that the cuticles around his nails had been picked raw. He cracked his
knuckles and relaxed against the back of the booth. “I’m going to tell you something, Alex, because I want to be honest with you,” he said.

“Is it something terrible? Do you want to break up with me?”

“Don’t be silly! Of course I don’t want to break up with you. I like you too much for that.”

“So what’s wrong, then?”

“It’s my parents – especially my mom…” He stopped speaking and began to trace the pattern on the vinyl tablecloth with the fingernail of his right thumb.

“Yes, your parents?” I prompted.

“Well –” He stopped abruptly. A red blush started at the base of his throat and quickly worked its way up to his cheeks.

“Come on, tell me! You’re scaring me!” I gave him my most reassuring smile.

“Okay. There’s no easy way.” He took hold of my hand again and squeezed it tight.

“Tell me,” I urged.

He leaned forward, as close to me as he could, and his words came out in a rush. “My folks feel that we’re too young to be seeing so much of each other. They think I should date other girls too.”

“I thought your family liked me.”

“They do. It’s only that they – I mean, especially my mom – don’t want me to get serious about a girl who isn’t…” His voice trailed off. He was staring at the tablecloth as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

“Isn’t
what?”
I couldn’t keep the impatience out of my voice.

The waitress reappeared just then with two bottles of Coke and a steaming plate of fries that she put in the center of the table.

“Can I bring you something else?” she asked.

Jacob waved her away.

“Please tell me. What’s going on?” I pleaded.

“Don’t be upset, Alex. It’s not your fault. It’s just that my parents don’t want me to be serious about a girl who isn’t Jewish.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Don’t your parents have a problem with my religion too?” he asked. “After all, you never invite me to your house. I haven’t even met your mom and dad. My mother says it must be because they don’t approve of your going out with a Jew. Is she right?”

My mouth was full of words demanding to be heard, but I held them back when Momwhen’s frightened face swam before my eyes. A promise was a promise, I told myself,
even if it involved Jacob. I took a french fry with my free hand and began to nibble on it to gain time.

“I guess your silence tells me all I need to know,” Jacob said.

“Don’t be silly!” I said. “You’re wrong. You’re welcome at my house any time.”