Portraits (15 page)

It was Sara’s sixteenth birthday, almost a year later, but it was not a happy day. She opened the package from her mother and looked at the hat and the letter inside. The words in the letter were the same and so was mama. That would never change. But other things had changed. Dear God, how they had changed.

The day before, her adored father had been trampled by a peddler’s horse. The animal had reared as Harry was crossing the street. The only blessing was that Harry had died instantly. With his passing, all her dreams seemed buried inside his pine box, laid in the cold ground.

After the days of mourning were over, Lisa said, “Now that your father is gone, Sara, I need the room. I’m taking a boarder in.”

Sara looked at her. “What would you suggest I do…I mean, where can I live?”

“Gittel likes you. Maybe she’ll make room for you.”

Sara shifted uncomfortably before she asked, “Ah, did my father leave anything to me? I mean—”

“I know what you mean. But let me tell you, my dear, your father was not my partner. This business was mine when I married him and everything he had was what he got from me—the shoes on his feet, the food—”

Hershel was a distant relative of Lisa’s, and when Sara told Hershel and Gittel of her problem they were outraged and persuaded Esther to take the girl in.

Which was how she happened to be standing at Esther’s kitchen sink when Jacob first saw her.

D
ESPITE JACOB’S CURIOSITY ABOUT
Sara, he had not responded to Shlomo’s suggestions of charity and understanding about her dilemma.

Every morning they passed each other in the narrow hall, almost colliding, and the contact only heightened his antagonism. As he sat across from her at supper he wondered who she was that his mother should embrace her as though she were part of the family…What was she doing that she should be fed and housed from mama’s sweat? She did the dishes, helped wait on tables? Big deal. She not only got room and board, but five dollars a month. A sixteen-year-old girl couldn’t get a job? She and Hershel were two of a kind, living off of anyone’s muscle. He made it a point to ignore her, but he was disturbed to find himself dwelling on his dislike of her almost constantly.

He found himself thinking about her even at work. Why didn’t she put her long black hair up into a bun instead of letting it hang, practically getting it into the food? Why did she have to stare back at him when he looked up from eating? Those brown eyes, so big, so innocent…He’d seen a girl with innocent eyes once before in his life…And how come she had so many nice things—the beautiful hat and especially the pretty nightgowns and robes? She even had the luxury of using their bath. Most women went to the
mikva
, the public baths. Even Gittel did, and she had to bathe Avrum and the new baby Benjamin in the sink, and either run down the hall to the toilet or use the chamber pot under the bed. Added to her sins was that while she was living in his house and was only a servant she completely ignored him. Some
chutzpah
. She didn’t even go to
shul
to say
Kaddish
for her father. He would speak to Gittel about her.

On Sunday as Jacob sat in Gittel’s kitchen sipping a celery tonic, Gittel answered the knock at the door. Of all people in the world…There she was, dressed like she was going to a ball—wearing a straw hat trimmed with violet velvet ribbons and field flowers, a white organdy and lace blouse, a navy-blue skirt and elegant beige suede shoes that were laced with silk strings. If Gittel were dressed like that she’d look like a princess too, but then Gittel had class even when she wore her faded blue cotton dress.

Jacob got up, leaving the unfinished celery tonic, and kissed his sister and the babies good-by. He said he would try to see her
alone
next Sunday and left without a word to Sara.

The two young women sat facing each other.

“You look beautiful, Sara.”

“So do you, Gittel…you look happy. Does having a new baby do that to a woman?”

“Yes, a family and a good sweet husband are the most important things, in a woman’s life…Sara, if I ask you something you wouldn’t be hurt?”

“No. What did you want to ask?”

“I’ve noticed you and Jacob seem so—I don’t know how to put it…”

“Distant?”

“Yes. Yes, why is that?”

“To be honest, Jacob has been making a point of ignoring me. I don’t understand it and it makes me angry. Who does he think he is?”

Gittel looked at Sara over the rim of the glass. She knew why Jacob was rejecting Sara; he saw Lotte in every girl. But she also knew Sara was too proud and independent to make any overtures. Sara was not like her. When Hershel had come into Gittel’s life she was the one who had broken down his defenses, shy as she was, but Sara was different. Still, she would have liked for Jacob to become interested in a girl…it would be so good for him. Finally Gittel said, “He doesn’t hate you, Sara. In fact I think Jacob likes you.”

Sara laughed and shook her head. “Oh, Gittel. If a young man likes a girl he doesn’t make a deliberate effort to offend her. People don’t have to love each other to be civil.”

“Sara, Jacob had a very bad thing happen to him. He was very much in love with a girl and they were going to be married. He worked day and night to save enough money to bring her over from the old country but she found someone else. Now he doesn’t trust any girl. It’s an old story. I know he’s wrong, but he’s still hurt and he’s afraid of being hurt again. If only someone understood him…I mean a girl.” Gittel bit her lip, remembering the aftermath of his severing with Lotte.

Sara looked almost interested. “I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose it explains a great many things about Jacob’s attitude toward me, but I still don’t think he should take out his feelings on me. Why should he punish me for what this girl did? Do you think that’s right?”

“Of course not, but Jacob just can’t seem to get over it. Well, at least you know now it isn’t because he doesn’t like you.”

Sara shrugged. “I know what it’s like to love someone and not have it returned. You never get used to it, but you have to go on living—”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Not with a man, but there are all kinds of love and when it’s not returned it hurts—”

“Then you understand?”

“More than I did before. About Jacob, I mean…”

“Then I’m happy I told you…it makes things easier when we understand why people act the way they do.”

“In some cases,” she replied, thinking of Molly…

That night Sara lay awake in the dark listening to Esther’s even breathing and thought about Jacob. Although she couldn’t yet acknowledge it, Jacob was the first boy who had ever attracted her. However, Sara had as many misgivings about the opposite sex as Jacob had, but for far different reasons. She had never forgotten that dreadful night when Carl Bromberg had tried to rape her and for that reason she had been more than grateful that Jacob paid no attention to her when she first came to live with Esther. Her fears were soon laid to rest when she realized Shlomo was the sweetest, dearest person, and Jacob the rudest and most arrogant. And now that she understood Jacob’s coldness she wasn’t against being friends. She had no reason to be afraid that he might—No. In fact, now she felt just the opposite…

As they walked home from
shul
on Saturday Sara decided that today was the day to begin their friendship. He was merely being a petulant little boy and if she waited for him to make the first move she could be old and very gray.

At lunch Sara said to Shlomo, “How would you like to go to the nickelodeon tonight?”

Shlomo had spoken to Gittel about Sara and Jacob and approved of her plans for them. Gittel was playing the part of the
shadchen
, the matchmaker, and the role became her. He answered, “I have a date. If I’d known sooner I would have made it another time.”

Sara smiled. “I’m glad you have a date—it’s nice to go out with someone. Do you like her?”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t say I’m really crazy about her. To tell the truth, I’d rather be with you.”

Jacob kept eating. How could a woman like Sara go out with a boy like Shlomo? She was sixteen…

That afternoon Sara asked Esther if she would like to go to the picture show, but Esther excused herself. She really didn’t like Charlie Chaplin, even though she understood he was Jewish. What Yiddish actor played parts like that? Boris Thomashefsky—now there was an actor. If Sara would excuse her tonight she promised they would go to the Yiddish theater next week.

Jacob chomped down hard on the chicken leg. Sure, mama would take her, and the Jewish princess would let mama pay for the tickets. But somehow Jacob heard the echo of Shlomo’s words: “You’re a
mensch
and that’s the best thing a person can be…” He supposed it wouldn’t hurt him. As an older man he supposed he should take it upon himself to at least see that she got there safe and sound. When all was said and done, Sara was a baby when it came to this tough neighborhood. She really shouldn’t be allowed to go to the pictures alone. Not that she was his responsibility, but he’d do it for Shlomo…In a voice far from warm, Jacob announced, “All right, come on, I’ll take you.”

Jacob looked sideways at Sara in the darkened theater. She was obviously enjoying the comedy but he was angry at himself for playing nursemaid. He wasn’t even watching the screen. Well, the evening would pass, and he wasn’t going to go on being her great protector. Not even for Shlomo.

When the lights came up, for a moment Jacob was startled. Had she noticed that he had been looking at her? Well, so what if she had.

As they walked out into the warm evening Jacob asked tonelessly, “Would you like a soda?”

“Yes, but I’ll pay.”

That did it. He stopped and stood towering above her. “Let me give you a little good advice. When a fellow takes you out, don’t ever ask to pay for him or he’ll never take you out again.”

“Thanks for the advice, but when I go out with a fellow I wouldn’t think of it.”

He swallowed hard. None too gently, he took her by the elbow and led her down the crowded streets until they reached Esther’s restaurant. Then he hurried to his room and slammed the door.

“Did you have a good time, Jacob?” Shlomo smiled.

“I’m warning you, Shlomo, tonight I don’t want to hear any of your great philosophy.” …

The next few weeks found Jacob’s anger a bit more subdued. He was not especially friendly when he passed her in the kitchen on the way to his room to clean up after work, but Sara was satisfied with his grunt. One night at supper she decided to try for more. “It must be fun to take the train every day to New Jersey.”

He didn’t look up from his soup. “Yeah, I like it.”

“I’m going to Coney Island this Sunday.”

This time he looked up from his soup. “Coney Island? By yourself?”

“No, with Gittel, Hershel and the children.”

Why hadn’t they asked him? “How can Gittel take a little baby to the beach?”

“Very simple…on the streetcar.”

“I don’t mean that.”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“She…well, you know how she feeds the baby—”

“Nursing mothers don’t have to stay home for years, you know. Do they, Mrs. Sandsonitsky?”

“Absolutely not. Why don’t you go, Jacob?”

They hadn’t asked him, so why should he
shlep
along? “I don’t like crowded beaches.”

“Why don’t you come, Jacob? You might like it,” Sara said.

“No.”

“Well, it’s up to you.”

“Why don’t you go, mama?” Jacob asked.

“Because Mrs. Lipsky is sitting
shivah
for her mother. Otherwise I would.”

“Oh…And you, Shlomo, as long as the family—”

“I have to study for a final exam.”

On Sunday morning Jacob decided to go. Why should they have all the fun? Hershel especially—the hard worker, the big breadwinner. If anyone needed a little relaxation it was he, Jacob. You bet he was going—and he’d enjoy it if it killed him.

Hershel and Jacob got into the striped bath suits they had rented and waited on the beach for the girls. They were taking so long Hershel went into the water, holding Avrum as he kicked and splashed around.

Along with the two baskets of food, Esther had included a jar of chicken fat to fend off the scorching sun. Jacob was unscrewing the top when he saw Gittel and Sara approaching from a distance. But it was Sara who caught his eye.

Her black bathing suit was so form-fitting, so revealing…Yet at the same time her pleated skirt and oval neckline trimmed with white made her look very much the regal young lady. His gaze wandered down her full figure to the black bathing shoes laced to the calves of her slender legs, then back up again. Curly wisps of her long black hair poked out from under her bouffant cap and she was twirling a French parasol over her shoulder. My God, she was the…most disturbing person he had ever met. Suddenly, memories of Lotte were gone.

“Would you like to join me in a dip?” Sara asked.

He composed himself and hoped God would protect him from any signs of the throbbing between his thighs. As he stood up and brushed off the sand she reached out her hand to him and the two ran toward the water.

Gittel smiled. They hadn’t asked her to join them…

After lunch the children were put down for naps and Gittel and Sara adjusted the umbrellas to shade them. Hershel was fast asleep—which was not surprising, Jacob thought. He asked Gittel why she didn’t take a dip, assuring her he’d keep an eye on the children. She hesitated and then ran to the blue surf, glad of a few moments of freedom.

Sara looked at Jacob. “Your back is getting red…let me put some Vaseline on it before you burn to a crisp.”

“Mama says chicken
schmaltz
is better.”

“You’ll forgive me, but Vaseline is better,” she said.

Jacob closed his eyes as she put her greased palm on his shoulders and massaged them.

“Thank you…that’s fine.”

“You’re sure you don’t—”

“I’m sure.” Jacob lay down and covered himself with a blanket of sand up to his neck.

Sara lay almost within touching distance. From under his half-closed lids, he watched as she put the French parasol in the sand to shade their faces and then covered her legs, her abdomen, then her bust in sand.