Portraits (6 page)

“Jacob…?”

My God, it
was
his mother. He shook his head in disbelief. “Yes, my name is Jacob.”

She stood in front of him, trembling. Suddenly, she slapped him across the face.

He was so shocked he could not speak. Then an overwhelming anger took hold of him…honor thy mother and father, indeed. Quickly, he turned and walked toward the front door, but she ran after him.

“Wait, Jacob,” she said, putting her arms around him, sobbing now.

In a state of total confusion, he merely stood.

Wiping her eyes on her apron, she said, “Come, Jacob, come and sit down.”

That was it? Not “I’m happy you’re here, happy to see you”? But then, what could he have expected. She didn’t love him, he’d known that…

“No, I can’t stay,” he answered bitterly.

“I’m…I’m sorry I hit you.” She bit her lip. He turned to leave, but she grasped his arm and went on. “It was because of all the years of worry, because you ran away and I never heard from you.”

“And that worried you a lot, you cared so much for me?” He almost spat out the words. “Why did you leave me, and take Gittel and Shlomo?”

“Because Gittel was a girl and Shlomo was a baby.”

“And I was nothing? A dog treats its own better than you treated me. Why didn’t you send for me?”

“I did.”

“You sent for me?” Jacob said after a long, stunned silence.

“Yes, I sent a ticket and money to bring you over.”

“How long ago was that?” he asked in disbelief.

“About six, seven years ago. I no longer remember.”

About seven years ago? That was just about the time he’d run away. He couldn’t believe it…she
had
sent for him? Then, suspiciously, “You got the ticket back, and the money?”

“Of course not. Who sends back money and tickets? Come, Jacob, sit down. You look like you could stand a good meal. We have plenty of time to talk and plenty to talk about.”

When he thought of the immigration officer, he reluctantly obeyed.

Esther sat across the table, watching her son eat. The deep resentment and hostility were written in his eyes, and both knew it would be difficult for him to forgive her. But then, the years had taken their toll on both of them. Who asked you, when you were born, what you wanted? You took what you were given. She knew how deep the hurt went, and this first meeting wouldn’t bind the wounds, but what could she have done? Nothing, and she wasn’t going to allow Jacob to make her feel guilty. If life had been kinder to her, she would have been a different woman, a different mother.

Jacob’s feelings had calmed. As he watched her over the rim of the coffee cup, he observed again how much she had changed. It was the white hair that startled him so. What did he feel for her? He couldn’t say. But this woman was his mother and maybe, given time, he might overcome the long years of loneliness and bitterness. For the moment, the feelings lay quietly submerged.

When he finished eating, they sat awkwardly, not knowing how to begin or where.

“Well, Jacob, you enjoyed the dinner?” Esther asked, clearing her throat.

“It was very good,” he answered the stranger across from him.

After a pause, Esther asked, “Tell me, Jacob, how long have you been here?”

“A little over two weeks,” he answered tonelessly.

“Oh? That long? What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You couldn’t find a job. I know it’s very hard.”

“I suppose, but I didn’t need a job. I was taken care of by the government of the United States.”

Esther inclined her head and looked sideways at Jacob. She wasn’t sure if he was joking but the thought immediately vanished as she noted the set of his jaw and the hardness around his mouth. “What happened?”

When Jacob recounted the ordeal, Esther was almost speechless, but her concern, perversely, touched off a raw nerve in Jacob. “Why are you so shocked? I lived in places almost as bad most of my life. The only difference was at least they didn’t put me behind bars.” The muscles in Jacob’s jaw knotted. “Prison is where I got my first look at this promised land.”

Another long silence between them, like a barrier.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure, that’s always good. Helps to wash down the anger, am I right, mama?”

“Jacob, you’re very bitter and I can’t say I blame you, but it doesn’t help.”

“No, it doesn’t help. What does, mama?”

“Come right out and say it, Jacob. You hate me.”

His eyes suddenly glistened as he stared at her for a long moment. He said nothing.

Silence. Their eyes met briefly, then Esther looked down and brushed away the crumbs on the oilcloth.

“But still, you came here…and found me…”

“The truth is, I made up my mind a long time ago I never would, but the immigration people said I had to have a family in America. Otherwise, they’d have sent me back.”

Esther bit her lower lip. “Well, at least you’re truthful. But you listen to me, Jacob. You want to punish me for something I couldn’t help. That’s all right, but no matter what you feel, I did the best I could.”

“I don’t think so,” he shot back. “You sent Gittel to
bubeleh
and
zayde
but left me with strangers. I didn’t mean anything to you—”

“That’s not true. They were old people. My mother was sick, and two children would have been too much for her.”

“Sure, my needs were so great.”

“All right, that’s enough. Think what you want. Nothing I can say will do any good.”

He watched as she got up and poured some brandy into a small glass. Her hand shook slightly as she raised the glass to her lips and quickly drank it down. His emotions became confused. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable, that he hated himself for having been so cruel. She too had suffered, and she was his mother. He sighed deeply. Maybe having vented his anger would make the past easier to accept, take away the sharp edge. When Esther came back and sat down, he wanted to say he was sorry, but somehow the words just wouldn’t come.

Trying to push aside the angry words, Esther asked with great difficulty, “What did make you decide to come to America?”

“I’m in love with a girl. We wanted to get married, but I couldn’t make a living. What chance does a Jew have in Europe?
Bubeleh
and
zayde
lived and died in that little hovel, and I wonder if they ever had enough to eat.”

Until now, Esther had tried to avoid asking too many questions, but now it didn’t matter. Nothing, it seemed, would change Jacob’s condemnation of her. She asked why he had run away, how he had survived on his own, and he told her the entire story. It felt good to let it out. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He ended with, “The only kindness I ever had in my life was from the Mendlebaums. I thought the whole world was a sewer until I met them. Thank God, I did.” When he finished his story, Esther sighed, got up and poured tea into a glass and handed it to him. He took a sip, then asked, “Now tell me about you.”

“What’s to tell?” She shrugged. “I came here, lived in a place with Shlomo where I needed a club to beat off the rats. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, that’s just the way it was. Then I went to work for the people who owned this restaurant, he died, and I bought it.”

“You make a good living?”

She blinked her tired eyes. I made enough for your keep and to feed my children, she thought, but said, “It was a living. At least I have a better place to live in. I haven’t shown you, but there’s an apartment in the back.”

“Where’s Gittel?” Jacob asked, stirring the tea.

“Where’s Gittel?” she sighed. “She got married.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“What’s to be happy? She couldn’t wait. At sixteen, she was afraid the great bargain she got, she wouldn’t be able to get later. I wanted her to finish school at least.”

“What does he do?”

“What does he do?” She laughed coldly. “As little as possible.”

“How do they live?”

“In a beautiful place on Delancey Street, two rooms. I help pay the rent and they eat here. Except right now, it’s a little hard for Gittel. In about two weeks, she’s going to have a baby, so I take the food over there every night.”

“And Shlomo?”

“He’s a good boy, goes to school and to
cheder
. He’s ten now.”

“Ten?” Jacob said in disbelief. My God, where had the years gone? Jacob couldn’t remember him at all. Yes, he could, vaguely. A tiny thing wrapped in a bundle of blankets, who seemed always to cry until he was taken to Esther’s breast. Jacob recalled his resentment of the new one being held so tenderly. Had she held him that way once…?

He got up and walked to the window. It had begun to snow gently. For some reason he could not articulate, he felt a strange sense of longing. He had wanted to hate his mother, he had tried to hate her. It was the only defense he had, the only tool to fight with, and it had given him strength. But now that he’d seen her, some of the armor had been chipped away—but just some. One didn’t live with the feelings Jacob had harbored for so long and then all at once feel reborn. Still, his hostility seemed more subdued, and he felt a sense of peace he’d never known before.

Jacob was so deep in thought that the sound of the bell ringing as the front door opened startled him. A little boy ran past him, went to his mother and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Shlomo was always in a hurry. Before Esther could get his attention, he was already in his room, taking the straps off his books and removing his wet coat and cap.

Esther went after him. “Shlomo, come, I have a surprise for you.”

Shlomo followed her into the room.

“This is your brother Jacob.”

Jacob watched as the little boy’s eyes widened, then glistened with tears. Shlomo had dreamed about his big brother. He needed a man he could look up to. He loved his mother and Gittel, but a boy should have a man to talk to, to guide him.

Jacob looked down at the boy with the large, brown, soulful eyes. They did not resemble each other at all. Shlomo was smaller than Jacob had been at the same age. The fact that they were of different fathers did not occur to Jacob. All that he cared about in this moment was that the little boy was his brother. Esther stood by, watching with tears in her eyes. Shlomo clung to Jacob, and Jacob held his brother close. This was a different love from any Jacob had known.

Shlomo looked up into Jacob’s face. “I knew you’d come some day. Mama always said you’d come.”

Jacob picked Shlomo up in his strong arms. “I guess mama was right.”

In the shadows, Esther whispered to herself, Thank you, God, for your goodness. At last I have my family together. She went to the front door and locked it, then turned around the sign. Closed. Today, she didn’t need any customers. Esther hastened to the back of the store and began to get things ready for Gittel. When the basket was filled, she put on her coat and hat, then went to join her sons. “Come,” she said, “get ready now. We’ll go to Gittel’s.” Looking at Jacob’s thin coat, Esther added, “Shlomo, bring your brother the woolen muffler and the leather gloves. Oh, and in my drawer you’ll find my knitted hat.” Esther was once again in command, the strong Esther of old, the undaunted, indestructible Esther.

When Shlomo came back and handed Jacob the long plaid scarf, he put it on, letting it hang. Esther stood in front of him. He was a head taller than she, and she had to reach up as she adjusted the scarf into a cravat. She smiled, which was something Esther hadn’t indulged in for a very long time, but he was really so handsome and her pride was enormous. “There, at least it will keep your neck warm. See if the gloves fit.”

Jacob felt a sudden desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he couldn’t. Instead, he smiled and picked up the basket, and the three of them set off in the cold winter evening to his sister’s house.

Winded by the four-flight climb, Esther stood in front of Gittel’s flat. “You wait here,” she said. “I want to go in and tell Gittel first. You understand?” Jacob nodded. He waited nervously as Shlomo stood looking up adoringly at him.

After what seemed an interminable length of time, the door opened and Gittel stood framed in the doorway. For a moment she could not move; it was all too unbelievable. Then she was in his arms, holding him close as the tears tumbled from her eyes. Looking up at him, she explored his face with her hands, touching his cheek. “Oh, Jacob, our dearest Jacob, you’ve come back to us. Mama always knew you would. There was never a day we didn’t speak of you.”

And there was never a day I hadn’t hoped it would be this way, he thought, too choked with emotion to speak.” He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Come, my wonderful brother, come,” she said, leading him into the sparsely furnished kitchen.

Gittel’s husband was seated at the table. He rose for the introduction. “Jacob,” Gittel said, “this is my husband, Hershel.”

Remembering what his mother had told him about Hershel, Jacob felt a stab of resentment. What had Gittel seen in him? He was a small, thin, joyless man of about twenty-five who looked as if he’d never seen the sun. Why hadn’t Gittel waited? She was so lovely, with honey-blonde hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. There was a slim delicacy about her, even now with her swollen stomach. As he looked from one to the other, he thought scornfully that Gittel’s husband had never made a living for her, protected her as he would Lotte. And the
shnorrer
had even allowed his mother, who worked so hard, to pay his rent. Jacob was brought back from his thoughts when his mother said, “Now, sit down, we’ll eat Jacob, you’ll make the blessing.”

Gittel and Shlomo could not take their eyes from Jacob. There was very little conversation during the meal, but as they drank their tea and ate the sponge cake, there was an avalanche of questions.

Jacob tried to avoid the bad times, which only left him the time with the Mendlebaums, and Lotte.

Gittel smiled. “So you’re going to get married. I can’t believe it.”

“And you, Gittel. It’s hard to believe you’re going to have a baby.” And as though speaking to him, he added, “It seems we were kids ourselves only yesterday.”