Portraits (7 page)

“Yes, Jacob, but we’re together now, thank God. Life is good—”

“Yes, I guess maybe there’s a reason for everything.”

As Esther opened the door to the restaurant and took him to the back apartment, he knew the past had to be put to rest and that all that mattered was now. He was home at last.

Quickly, Esther put clean sheets on the narrow iron cot in Shlomo’s room as Jacob watched. The first bed that belonged to him, the first real home he had ever had.

As Esther climbed into bed that night, she lay gazing up at the dark ceiling with a grateful heart. God had returned her son.

It was a night of peaceful, contented sleep for Jacob and for Esther.

F
RIDAY, BEING THE START
of
Shabbes
, was a bad day to look for work, so Jacob cleaned the apartment and scrubbed the accumulated grease from the kitchen walls.

That night they went to Gittel’s for
Shabbes
.

Jacob felt a deep joy as he watched his mother light the candles and say the prayer. Even his dislike of Hershel was overlooked in this moment of rejoicing. Nobody cooked like his mother—the
gefilte fish
, chicken soup with
kreplach
,
kugel
,
challah
, chopped liver, chicken—it was like a banquet.

The next morning, as Jacob sat having rolls and coffee with Shlomo, his mother handed him a red velvet sack embroidered with the golden
Torah
. He did not have to wonder what was inside—he knew. Taking the
tallis
in his hands, he touched the fringes reverently. The silk was yellowed with age. When he looked up there were tears in Esther’s eyes. “This was your father’s. Wear it, Jacob, as proudly as he did.”

Not holding back the tears, he embraced his mother. She felt so comforting in his arms. And she, in turn, felt the strength inside him.

As they prayed that Saturday in the little
shul
on Hester Street, his memories came flooding back to him. He looked up to the women’s section and saw his mother’s smile, then went back to his
dovening
, raising his voice to equal the elders’ as they chanted the hauntingly beautiful liturgy that had been heard for two thousand years. Shlomo stood proudly, swaying with the same rhythm as his brother.

At three o’clock in the morning there was a frantic banging on Esther’s door. Jacob almost collided with Esther as they both hurried to the front of the store. Opening the door, they found a frightened and near frozen Hershel. He blinked the snow from his eyelashes as he entered. Trying to catch his breath, he said almost incoherently, “Gittel…Gittel needs you.” Without questions, Esther hurried into her clothes, as did Jacob.

“What’s wrong?” Shlomo asked as he watched Jacob put on his trousers.

“It’s Gittel. It’s all right, go back to sleep. I’m going with mama.”

“Me too,” he announced, jumping out of bed.

“No, Shlomo. It’s not necessary, you go back to sleep.”

“But I want to go.”

“If I need you for something I’ll come back, all right?”

Reluctantly, Shlomo got back into bed as Jacob pulled the covers up under his chin and ran his hand affectionately across the boy’s face.

Gittel’s contractions were coming so quickly that Esther knew she had to act fast. The midwife who was supposed to deliver the baby had come down with pleurisy. There being no time to find another midwife, Esther took charge. She called from the kitchen to Jacob, who paced the narrow hall outside Gittel’s room. “Yes, mama,” he answered nervously.

“Go with Hershel to Mrs. Goldstein’s house. She’s the midwife. Tell her about Gittel and ask her to give you the instruments.”

Within less than fifteen minutes they were back with a paper bag. Jacob felt a wave of nausea as he watched Esther drop the scalpel and scissors into the boiling water. Hershel went out into the hall, shutting the door behind him, and leaned against the wall, dripping with perspiration. He put his hands to his ears to shut out the cries of pain.

Quickly, Jacob went to Gittel’s room, pulled up a chair and held her hand. He wiped the perspiration from her face with a damp cloth as she writhed in agony.

“Squeeze my hand…hard…harder…”

“Jacob?” she cried out

“Yes, I’m here, I’m here. Squeeze hard.”

Esther bustled into the room with the midwife’s instruments and looked under the sheet to examine her daughter. My God, her grandchild was about to be born. “Jacob, help me move Gittel around closer to the edge of the bed.”

As Esther adjusted the pillow under the girl’s head, the last scream was felt almost as much by Jacob, who watched Gittel’s child being pushed into life. At last, it was done, it was over. Jacob stood back and watched his mother. Soon the child was taken out of its veil of placenta, held up and slapped on the tiny buttocks.

Jacob smiled almost sadly when he heard the baby’s first cry. If he had feelings other than love for his mother, at this moment he realized she too had suffered bringing him into life. Today especially he saw her through different eyes.

After she had cleaned the child, sponged Gittel, changed the sheets and tidied up the room, Esther stood with the basin in her hand. “Well, Gittela, you’re a mother…now sleep,
mein kind
.”

When she turned and started to leave, Jacob took the basin from her hands, placed it on the floor and put his arms around her.

She looked up. “You’re a fine man, Jacob—like your father, may he rest in peace.” Then she went out.

“Jacob?” Gittel said weakly, holding out her hand.

He went to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes, Gittela?”

“Thank you for being strong. Poor Hershel was so frightened.”

It wasn’t fear, but weakness, Jacob thought. He kissed her lightly and left.

Opening the front door, he saw Hershel sitting on the stairs, looking up at him expectantly. It took all Jacob’s strength to control his anger.

Hershel’s mouth was slack. “Well?”

A silent pause, and then Jacob said, “You have a son. When you die you’ll have someone to say
Kaddish
.” Jacob ran down the stairs, two at a time.

This day found Jacob a very happy young man. He had gotten a job. The work was hard but out in the open air instead of in some unventilated loft. And the money was good—nine dollars a week.

When he went to Gittel’s for dinner that evening, he walked in to find Esther taking off her coat.

From the look on Jacob’s face, she asked,
“Nu?”

“I got a
job
.”

“
Mazel tov
, where?”

“On the docks.”

“On the docks, working in this kind of weather?” she asked, putting on the white apron. “Jacob, those men are bums. With bums you don’t have to—”

“That’s right,” he said, interrupting her. “I don’t have to associate with them.”

She struck a match to light the stove and he watched the tip smolder when she blew it out. “Listen, Jacob, I don’t want you—”

“I took it, mama. No use talking. You know how much it pays?”

“I don’t care how much. I still don’t—”

“Nine dollars a week. More than I could make in a factory.”

“Nine dollars a week?” Shlomo put in. He’d never heard of so much.

“That’s right, Shlomo, and I’m going to make more too. You, I’m going to send to college and you, mama, I’m going to give half every week.”

“Me, you’ll give half? I don’t take money from my children and Shlomo can marry a rich girl. She’ll send him to college and you’ll save the money so you can get married.” They all laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Gittel asked, coming into the kitchen with her six-day-old son.

“Shlomo’s going to get married,” Jacob told her.

“I am not,” he said, turning red. Then, excitedly added, “Jacob got a good job, nine dollars a week!”

“Oh,
mazel tov
,” Gittel said.

“Sure, some
mazel tov
. He’s going to be working like a
goy
on the docks with bums. Bums, that’s what they are,” Esther said half angrily.

Jacob paid no attention as he peered down at the baby. So beautiful. Imagine, a little human being, and this had come from the ordeal of last week. He couldn’t get over it.

When Hershel walked in from the bedroom, Jacob looked at the slippers on his feet.

“You have a good rest, Hershel?”

Hershel looked at him sourly. He hadn’t forgotten the congratulations he’d received the night the baby was born. “Yeah, I was a little tired when I came home.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard working in a pool hall. Racking up the balls is enough to make any person—”

“All right, everyone sit down and eat,” Esther said, when she saw Gittel swallow hard. Then she shook her head at Jacob to keep him quiet.

When they were all seated at the table, Shlomo said to Hershel, “Jacob got a good job.”

“Just eat before it gets cold,” Esther snapped, wishing the meal were over already. She would warn Jacob later not to antagonize Hershel. It only hurt Gittel, and she knew Jacob would never want to do that. And of course, whatever Jacob did, Shlomo thought he could get away with too.

That night, after promising his mother he would be more polite to Hershel, Jacob sat down and wrote a long letter to Lotte.

February 11, 1907

Dear Lotte,

Not a day has passed that you have not been in my thoughts. During that long voyage, I would lie awake in the dark and feel as though you were there with me. It made it easier to endure our separation. I keep your picture close to my heart and I look at it every day.

So much has happened since I arrived I don’t know where to begin. I suppose I’ll tell you first about my family. It is like we have been together all our lives, I just can’t get over it. You’ll love my mother, and I know she will treat you as she does my sister Gittel. My little brother Shlomo, who is ten, speaks of you as though he knew you. My sister had a baby boy last week. He is so beautiful.

America is a good country, and I can hardly wait for you to come and share it with me. I know that will not be too far away because I got a good job. I am going to save most of my money because I am living with my mother, who owns a restaurant. Everyone is so happy about us. I am the happiest person on earth to have found so many that love me,
especially
you. Please write as soon as you get this letter. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, my nephew’s name is Avrum, after my father. On Sunday he’s going to have his
bris
, and the party will be at my mother’s. My only regret is you will not be here.

Please give my deep affection to your grandparents. I miss them very much and will never forget how good they were to me. My regards to your mother and father and I hope they know how much I care for you. Please assure them they do not have to worry about your future.

Well, Lotte dear, I will close now, but before I do, again I want you to know how much I care for you.

With deep respect,

Jacob

Before putting it into the envelope, he reread the letter. It didn’t really say what he felt. But those were feelings no decent man expressed to the woman he was going to marry. And besides, he could never put them into words. For some feelings, there were no words.

Quickly, Jacob folded the letter and sealed it.

The snows of winter had come and gone, and the heat of summer settled on them with a fury.

Jacob had become accustomed to the scenes of the East Side, the familiar daily sights of humanity locked together in a common fight for survival. It was not the poverty that bothered him so much, since he’d known nothing else. But his burning desire to bring Lotte over became more difficult to bear with the passing days.

He had been painstakingly frugal with his money, but at the end of six months he had saved very little. It was quite simple; he had to earn more money. But how?

At noon, when the whistle blew, Jacob walked to the shaded side of the warehouse, wiped the sweat from his forehead, then sat on the concrete and braced himself against the wall. It was so hot that he didn’t feel like eating. Instead, he took the small English primer from his back pocket and began to study.

The burly Irishman sitting beside him asked, “So, you’re going to be a professor, arrre ya?”

Jacob smiled, “I wouldn’t mind.” Jacob had been going to night school three times a week to study English. Between the lessons and his eagerness to learn he now had little difficulty in speaking or understanding the language.

“Well, professors ain’t no better than the likes of you and me. We work hard for what we get, and that ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“Ashamed, I’m not, but a little more money I wouldn’t mind making,” Jacob said, shrugging.

“I ain’t gonna be faultin’ you for that. It’s a struggle, and hard raising a family. But I’ll take this to the potato famine we had when I was a young one back in the old sod.”

Jacob nodded. He understood about famines and hunger, but still, in this land of opportunity he wasn’t making much progress, and his need for Lotte was becoming more and more acute. At the rate he was going, it would take a long time and that he couldn’t accept.

“Still,” the Irishman said, looking at Jacob’s strong shoulders and arms, “it shouldn’t be so hard for a big buck the likes of you to be earnin’ a little extra.”

“What does my size have to do with it? I don’t get paid more because of that.”

“Take a look at those fists. You got a
forrtune
in them, me boyo.” The older man laughed.

“In my fists?”

“And that ain’t no lie.”

Jacob was beginning to get interested. “Explain it to me.”

“You been to a prize fight, ain’t ya?”

“No.” Jacob shook his head.

“You was never at a fight?”

“Never.”

“Well, now me boy, how would you like to be going with me? I go ever’ Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

“How would going to a fight make me money?”

“Let me tell you what I have in mind. I think you ought to be thinking about gettin’ into the game. There’s a lot in it.”

Jacob took a look at his hands. He could make money with them? The man said they were worth a fortune. If he was telling the truth then that would mean he could bring Lotte over sooner. And what was going to school compared with that?