Read One Eye Laughing, the Other Weeping Online
Authors: Barry Denenberg
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Lifestyles, #City & Town Life
I used to go with him on Friday nights, and Mr. Heller was right, it was a miracle the way her eyes would brighten when Daddy walked in the room.
But it wasn’t enough. When she finally succumbed Daddy was
so
devastated — I’ve never seen anyone that sad.
She used to work at the store and she loved talking about all the customers — especially the mean ones. She swore me to secrecy, but then, if I promised, she would tell me all the foolish books they bought and, after they left, we would laugh until our eyes watered. I liked talking to her. She was one of those real hon-est people you meet from time to time if you’re lucky.
The kind who will tell you what they truly think and not just what they think you want to hear.
Mrs. Heller has rheumatic fever, which leaves her constantly short of breath. She always walks Mr. Heller to the bookstore in the morning and then returns to fetch him at the end of the day. They look very, very sweet walking arm in arm like they do.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 20, 1938
Sophy’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Erickson, is the strictest teacher in the
whole entire school
. He makes everyone sit silently until he arrives each morning. Sophy says it’s really eerie because no one utters a sound, fearing that he might walk in at any moment. When he finally does arrive he climbs up on this big raised platform where his desk is perched so he can look down on everyone. He looks like a mouse with beady
little eyes that are always darting about nervously.
Sophy said he’s been really mean to her this year. He said her penmanship needs work and if her long division doesn’t improve, he’ll have to have a conference with her parents. Sophy started to protest this harsh treatment, but Mr. Erickson said if she continued to talk back to him, he would put her in “the dungeon” where she could spend the rest of the day alone.
She thinks Mr. Erickson is being mean to her because she’s Jewish, which seems a little far-fetched to me. Mrs. Thompson isn’t mean to me and I’m Jewish, too. But Sophy says that’s because she’s Mrs. Thompson and not Mr. Erickson.
FRIDAY, JANUARY 21, 1938
I passed the new cook on my way to Mr. Heller’s. She said hello, otherwise I would not have recognized her in a million years. She didn’t have on her black uniform or white cap or anything — as a matter of fact, she was rather elegantly dressed and looked even prettier than when I first saw her.
Sophy thinks she saw her brother the other day. She wasn’t completely one hundred percent sure so she didn’t say anything or scream out, and besides she was with her parents so she was afraid to.
Sophy is forbidden to talk about him because her parents had to place a notice in the paper declaring that they wouldn’t be responsible for any of his debts. He’s not a very reliable person and besides, that’s not even all. Her parents are also mad because they caught him necking with his girlfriend.
That’s about when he moved out and Sophy hasn’t seen or heard from him since.
Sophy wanted to go ice-skating after school today but I couldn’t go because of my tiresome piano lessons.
SUNDAY, JANUARY 23, 1938
I spent all of yesterday shopping with Mother. I wish we could take the streetcar instead of having Richard drive us. Driving is
so
boring and the streetcar would be more fun but Mother
never
takes a streetcar
anywhere
.
She says it’s because they’re always packed (she does have a point — sometimes it’s so crowded that some of the men hold on for dear life while hanging halfway out the door). But I think she wouldn’t take it even if there was only one other person on board.
We paraded up and down Kärtnerstrasse. Mother bounces from shop to shop like a honeybee buzzing from flower to flower, pointing to this or that, ordering around the quivering clerks, demanding that everything be sent home, including the bill, because Mother never, ever carries money (she thinks it’s vulgar).
We went to all her favorite shops: the milliner,
then the furrier, the watchmaker, the jeweler, and Zwiebeck’s for a handbag and gloves.
Actually, the shopping part wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
The only two things I minded were going to the florist to choose the flowers for her dinner party (which took endless hours of deliberation before she finally settled on blue hyacinths), and to Mrs. Svoboda, the dressmaker (which also took forever and seemed even longer because I was nearly fainting from hunger the whole time).
Fortunately we had lunch at the Reiss Bar, which is where, according to Mother,
all
the stylish people go.
I
like it because it’s close to Mrs. Svoboda’s (it’s on a side street right off of Kärtnerstrasse) and because they have very cute little tables and chairs that are covered in pretty red leather.
I don’t know why Mother insists on these Saturday excursions because it’s really a terrific bore for both of us. I think it’s her way of showing me she’s interested in my life. But I know she isn’t really.
She always asks me the same three things in the
same exact
order: 1) How’s school? 2) How’s Sophy? and 3) Why do you argue with your brother so much
lately? and as soon as I start to answer, her eyes immediately begin scanning the restaurant in hopes of recognizing someone she can then wave to and reel over to their table so she doesn’t have to talk to me.
I don’t even mind
that
so much, but what I
do
mind is that as part of this obligatory outing, she gives me advice on some aspect of my behavior that I should improve. Last month it was not caring for my nails properly and yesterday it was spending too much time with my “nose stuck in a book” and how I should be more outgoing because “you don’t learn everything there is to learn about life from books.”
Fortunately the lecture was abbreviated because Mother was getting a migraine. Mother is absolutely
plagued
by migraines. Sometimes her migraines are
so
bad that she has Milli unplug the telephone, draw the curtains until her room is
totally
dark, and bring in a cold cloth for her eyes. Then she just lies there until dinnertime and sometimes doesn’t even come out
then
and just rings the bell on her bedside table so Milli knows to bring in her dinner.
Daddy’s given her lots of pills for her migraines but I don’t think they do any good. I think Mother’s migraines are the reason she and Daddy have two bedrooms.
After Richard drove Mother home we went back to Demel Konditorei on the Kohlmarkt for some pastries. They make the best
Mannerschnitten
and
Schaumrollen
in Vienna. There’s always whipped cream spilling out of either end, which is how you know if it’s good.
When I got home, Mother was resting and Milli said to be sure not to make any noise. Mother hates to be awakened when she’s recovering from a migraine.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 25, 1938
I wish I didn’t have to wear braces. I’m the only one in the
whole entire school
who does and I look like I tried to crash through a fence. I don’t know why teeth can’t just grow in like they’re supposed to.
All the kids look at me because having braces means you’re rich. I know some of the girls talk about how many different outfits I have and how much they cost. I’ve heard them and so has Sophy.
We
are
rich, at least I think we are, but Daddy didn’t even have to pay for my braces because he takes care of Dr. Hirsch’s family for free and so the braces don’t cost us anything.
And, besides, Mother plays bridge with Mrs. Hirsch,
although I think she’s more interested in complaining about the tiny little sandwiches Mrs. Hirsch serves than in actually playing bridge. Mother says Mrs. Hirsch is cheap.
Dr. Hirsch said that when my braces come off I will be so beautiful that I can have my pick of any boy in Vienna. I asked him what second prize was and he laughed and said I had a sense of humor just like The Doctor.
Mother says that Mrs. Hirsch is making a big mistake not getting rid of her cat. Mrs. Hirsch is going to have a baby in a couple of months, and Mother believes that if an infant looks too much at an animal when she’s first born she will grow up to look just like that animal.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26, 1938
Sophy got mad at me today because I told her that she monopolizes every conversation, which she does, or at least most of them. Then, just to get even, she said that I dream too much, not the kind of dreams you have at night, but that I’m dreaming too much during the day and that someday I’m going to have to wake up.
For one thing, I don’t think it’s even true that I’m too dreamy, and even if it is true, I don’t know that I’ll have to wake up someday, as Sophy puts it. Sometimes she says the first thing that comes into her head without giving it any thought.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 27, 1938
Daddy took me with him to the office because there was no school today. I ADORE going to the office with Daddy, although it makes me sad to see all those sick people just sitting there, waiting for Daddy to make them better.
I once asked him if he liked having all those people depend on him and he said sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t.
It was a very exciting day because as soon as we got there, Daddy had an emergency. A policeman had been accidentally injured in a traffic accident — he broke his arm and was cut very badly above the eye and Daddy had to tend to him right away.
He put his arm in a cast and stitched up the cut, which had been bleeding profusely but wasn’t as bad as it looked at first. The policeman was worried about
his eye. He was afraid he had lost his sight but Daddy assured him the cut was above the eye — not on it — and that he would be all right. The policeman was relieved and told Daddy he didn’t know how he would ever repay him.
Daddy ordered lunch from Kugler’s on Kohlmarkt. They have
everything
and they’re Daddy’s favorite. Only he knows I don’t like to go there because of all the creepy lobsters they have crawling all over themselves in that aquarium that is far too small.
Daddy says I didn’t like to go to Kugler’s even when I was very little, before I could even talk.
We ate lunch right on Daddy’s desk — just cleared
everything
off and put a tablecloth down. Daddy had his usual, veal cutlet and cucumber salad, and I had my usual, Sachertorte.
Unfortunately after lunch we had to go to his tobacco shop on Florianigasse, although I didn’t go in. I never go in there because the man who owns it is mean and blind. Daddy said he was blinded in the war and that’s why he’s so mean, but I don’t care why he’s mean, he just scares me.
Also he has this big, vicious black-and-tan dog that
has a wire muzzle clamped down around his large snout, which makes him look even more ferocious than he already does. Daddy says he protects the store from robbers, but I just wish Daddy would get his tobacco someplace else.
On the way home Daddy had to stop off and visit one of his patients in the hospital. One turned into three and we didn’t get home until well after dinner. Mother was already in her room with the door closed. Max graced us with his presence and ate some cake while Daddy and I made ourselves sandwiches. I was watching Max eat and I don’t know why but all of a sudden it came to me. He’s been acting strangely lately because he has a girlfriend. And, of course, he’s keeping it a big secret from everyone. I don’t have any evidence or anything like that, but it makes perfect sense. I’m going to talk it over with Sophy and see what she thinks. She’s good at this kind of thing.
FRIDAY, JANUARY 28, 1938
It was so cold today I ran up the stairs as soon as I got home from my piano lesson. I didn’t even bother to
wait for the slowpoke elevators. As soon as I got in I huddled next to the big stove before I even took off my hat and mittens.
You have to stand right next to it because the heat just doesn’t reach very far. I didn’t budge until I was toasted all over.
SATURDAY, JANUARY 29, 1938
Max has been teaching himself to roll Turkish cigarettes lately. He says it’s more “cosmopolitan” if you roll your own. I’m not sure what’s cosmopolitan about it but it sure is fun watching all the tobacco end up in his lap or on the floor.
I think his wanting to be cosmopolitan has to do with this new secret girlfriend. Rolling the cigarettes isn’t the only reason I suspect he has a girlfriend. Recently he’s increased his exercise routine, although I must admit that Max has always been a great athlete. He still takes fencing lessons three times a week and plays for Hakoah, the Zionist soccer team. Max is a Zionist and so are his friends. They wear the Star of David around their necks and believe that all Jews should leave the country they are living in and move to