The Willow Tree: A Novel (13 page)

                  In time Moishe lowered his gaze and looked at Bobby for a moment, seeming to absorb the friendliness and understanding in Bobbys expression, then smiled softly, tenderly, from deep within his heart, a smile so filled with acceptance it could only come from overcoming great pain. So…the tattoo—he was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward slightly and spoke directly to Bobby—You know what was a Concentration Camp?

Bobby shrugged, I see some things on television, like in movies and stuff.

Moishe nodded his head, Ya—Moishes eyes rolled back in his head for a moment—There was always the smell of death…always in the nose, even walking through snow, always the smell of death—Bobby watched and in a moment Moishe shook his head—everyone is having a tattoo, you become a number…thats all, a number only…no name, no person, no heart, no memories, no life…no you…only just a number on your wrist…and also some place on a piece of paper and so its like paper being thrown in the trash, nothing more because its only a number thats burned with the rest of the trash and—Moishe shook his head and waved what he was saying away—Enough, enough—Moishe redirected his gaze toward Bobby to help him concentrate, You know what they call World War Two and the Nazis?

Yeah—nodding his head—like I said, the movies.

Ya….But that wasnt always my country. But I didnt notice the change. I hear the Nazis are growing, but—shrugging—in my town not much is changing. Me and my partner—Moishe suddenly hesitated and his eyes clouded over momentarily—my partner Klaus had small business…what you call…contractor…plumber, electrical, we do little jobs…in homes, but we have also a truck so is good the business. We do fine. I have lovely wife and son and Klaus and…then suddenly theyre coming in uniforms and arm bands and taking me away. I dont know why. Then they tell me Im a jew—Moishe shakes his head, looks vaguely mystified and shrugs—Just like that Im suddenly a jew, an enemy of my country. I tell them, everyone, Im a German, Im loving my country, how can I be a jew, but they knock me down and drag me away and soon Im stuffed in a cattle car on my way—Bobby squinted and leaned forward more as once again Moishe retreated within himself for a moment, tilted his head back and closed his eyes….Many days we/re on that train, just only a little food…and so hot and no water and soon the smell so bad it burns like fire and no room even for the dead to fall down—Moishe slowly opened his eyes and stared at the wall behind Bobby as if he were trying to free his mind from the horror by burning it into the wall—so theyre just standing there, eyes staring like alive, but no tears from their eyes…shit, piss, but no tears O God, and we are so many days on the train, no food, no water, no air just bodies cramped and jammed together puking on each other—Moishe shook his head in pain and disbelief—who knows how long on that train. When it stops we dont even know, our bodies are still crushing into each other—Moishe was silent for a moment, Bobby staring, mouth open—we/re there so long…and when suddenly they finally opened the door the light is like barbed wire ripping our eyeballs…we try to raise our hands to shield our eyes but we cant move we/re so close pinned against each other and just closing eyes doesnt stop the pain ach such pain…such pain—Moishes voice weak and mournful—the light, I cant say how much pain, and when they dragged us out, those not living started falling over…one, sometimes two at a time like tenpins…slow as if the body wants to deny, even now, that it is dead and as long as it stands it can believe….Moishe was quiet for a moment as if in mourning—then we were jammed into trucks and again men are puking on each other, vomit oozing down necks and so much pain from the bouncing throwing us around like kittens in an iron maiden….Moishe slumped in his chair, staring at the floor between his feet

                                                                       O god, and we hadnt even reached the camp…the camp—Bobby continued to stare at Moishe, crushed with disbelief, trying to understand the horror of what Moishe had said, and the expression on his face, An you mean like you aint never been no jew? They just railroad your ass???? Moishe looked at Bobby for a moment, I dont know what is railroad—shaking his head. You know man, like they framed your ass—Moishe still looking quizzically at Bobby—like the man, he dont like your ass he bus you an say you did somethin you dont do an you goes to jail. Moishe continued looking at Bobby and then started nodding his head slowly, Ya…ya, is all lies. Bobby was shaking his head, Damn…damn! Aint that some shit!!!! An they jus haul yo ass away an fuck you over? Moishe nodded his head…They took everything…house, business…everything…and send away my wife and son. She has brother who lets them live with him—Moishes face is pinched with pain—For years Im not knowing if theyre alive…8 years Im thinking theyre dead. Wow! aint that a muthafucka. Damn! An you be locked up all that time. Moishe nodded his head. Bobby was still shaking his head in total disbelief, Damn, that be a muthafucka Mush. They jus be draggin yo ass away an take every thin…damn!!!! Moishe took a deep breath, Klaus is having a cousin in the Party and they want the business for themselves, so….They were both silent for a moment, Moishe overwhelmed by his memories, Bobby by the monstrous injustice…losing everything because somebody say you be a jew. He glanced up at Moishe from time to time, then inwardly shrugged again trying to believe that that could happen to a white man even if he were a jew. Bobby was confused but he knew Moishe be straight, that he wasnt bool shittinim. In time Moishe raised his head slightly and looked at Bobby, So, I survive the trip and become a number, a blue number on white skin. Bobby blinks as he stares at the numbers, Yeah, aint that some shit…on white skin….

Marias casket was closed. Sealed. Inside were her remains…the bones, hair, burned flesh, covered in her newest dress, rosary beads wrapped around her fingers. Impossible to know if she was still singing.

Isabella stared at the wood, knowing her baby was inside but still not believing…not totally, not that any death, even expected, is believed with the awareness of the simple fact of death. How much knowledge must change in the blood? How many facts purged through kidneys and liver…and time…long, relentless, interminable and torturous time???? Can a mother, or anyone, look at a piece of wood and tell themselves their 13 year old daughter is inside and will never scream, laugh or…or….What is flesh of flesh when the flesh is sealed away from sight??? packaged in a tight fitting wooden box that reflects the dim light of the room but knows nothing of what it contains? Bones, flesh, bones flesh….Yes, Marias bones and flesh, but what of Isabellas dreams…what of Marias dreams…those little bubbles of train rides, of tv and alone with Bobby, and some vague tomorrow that would make everything alright and make everyone happy…life as a christmas tree with eternal tinsel and lights and colorful decorations that shimmer and dazzle, and the Angel on the top, the very tippy top looking down on everything…everything…the tree, the presents, the people, the Baby Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary, the baby jesus who would make everything alright and even the snow flakes falling from the sky like slices of coconut would sing and Maria would sing and dance and sing and dance and sing and sing and sing, but now her song is muffled, baffled by the box that Isabella and her mother stare at trying to find their baby and Isabella stares, paralyzed, a few feet from the box, Marias box, her last box and not the one Isabella was thinking of when she thought of giving Maria a present, perhaps this Christmas she would buy her a little stereo and put it in a box, she wouldnt know, but Isabella knew what was in this box but how can she believe, how can she believe she is going to bury her baby? How can that be???? I buried my young husband, isnt that enough for one life—she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the tears, trying to see the Blessed Virgin who knew how it felt to see her own child dead…but yours returned, only three days you were alone with no child to cling to your hands…only three days so what do you know about me??? what can you know about me??? and the old one who no longer mutters the prayers of a lifetime. We did not even see our Maria a last time, nor will we ever. We sat for endless hours, days in a strange place of much moving and noise and held her little hands, feeling her flesh on my flesh, hearing her tears and cries, but seeing only bandages. I stare at the box and think, think really hard about Maria, but I cannot remember when last I looked into her eyes…when last I saw the smile on her face. What is it I have done to bury my own child…to not have seen her one last time as she was, to have no memory of her smile, her sparkling eyes??? to see only bandages wrapped around and around that sweet face O God, God, God, God, God…—Isabella finally started falling forward and was able to move her feet so she could fall across the box, cleaning it with her tears, hugging it with her arms and warming it with her breast, hearing her sobs pound against the wood, feeling the wetness of her cheek, trying to hear her daughter, to feel her daughter, to somehow know that Maria was inside this box, this piece of wood that didnt care who was lying across it or was locked within it, it was just there to keep mother and daughter separated for ever…for all eternity…no last look, no last word or touch, shes just gone O GOD GOD GOD GOD HOW CAN THIS BE…how can this be??? and Isabellas words were muffled as she tried to bury her face in the wood, hoping desperately that if she hugged the wood hard enough her baby would feel it, her baby would know that her mommy was here just like always, that her mommy loved her…O God, she loved her baby, but I dont know what I did to have her taken from me like this…what can a mother do to have her baby yanked from her arms by first the madness of children then the curse of death? Am I to be punished for all eternity because I could not feed my children and I came here so we could live…we could at least have food? Is that my crime in the face of God? Is it like the old one forever says to me, We should not have come to this land of ugly words and madness? Does Maria pay for my sins???? O Blessed Virgin let my child live as yours did. Dont leave me alone, deserted in the jungle of noise and craziness. Bring Maria back to me. She is just a baby. She needs her mommy O dear God…GOD, GOD!!!!—pounding on the box, her tears splashing on the shiny finish, shimmering in the light, rolling over the sides and to the floor like tiny pearls,

                     her mother standing stiff, mouth clenched tight, closed to whatever may come in and to whatever might come out, the silence going deep, deep within her, to the core of her heart and beyond, the coldness of silence eating its way through her. She listened to her daughters screams, watched her pound the box, heard the tears hit the box over and over and remained unmoved and unmoving, retreating deeper and deeper within herself, the silence consuming her. In time friends took Isabella off the coffin and led her out of the room and soon the old woman was alone still standing in the same place, hearing the muffled sobs and voices in the distance, but unaware, aware only of the cold, deep silence within her, a silence she vowed never to break.

Bobby stood in front of the mirror inspecting his face carefully, tentatively, gently touching the bruised and cut areas, his hand leaping away as if from a hot stove when he felt an extremely tender spot (looking in the mirror to see if Moishe noticed), and when he finished prodding he just stood and looked, turning his face this way, then that way, then this way, over and over, then nodded and turned to face Moishe, This face be doin real fine Mush. I be in good shape to go see my girl and the moms.

Moishe looked at him for a minute, then went over to him and squinted at his face, gently turning it, tilting it, examining it from various angles, then smiled, Dr. Schultz is doing a good job, ya?

You righteous Mush.

The healing is very good…ya, very good—Bobby smiling broadly, very pleased—But youre still having many bruises, still a little swelling some places…some very ugly marks, ya?

Bobby broadened his smile, his eyes twinkling as he looked into Moishes face, But Im so pretty Mush, aint no amount a bruises be hidin that—Moishe returning his look, nodding slightly—an I gotta see my girl an let the moms know I be alright.

Moishe continued looking into Bobbys eyes, forcing a smile on his face, reached up and gently, tenderly…lovingly touched Bobbys cheek for a moment, just for the eye wink of a moment and nodded briefly, Ya—then suddenly turned and started walking to the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder, Come…we talk first. He sat at the kitchen table and Bobby joined him. Moishe looked at him for a moment….So…youre coming back?

Bobby blinked for a moment….Sheeit, I didn even think of that Mush—Moishe looking at Bobby, his expression gentle, not reflecting the terrible turmoil going on within him—I guess I dont be knowin…you know what I mean, like I dont know whats happenin out there…like what the moms be up to and Maria an the cops an those muthafuckin spics—shrugs—I jus doan know….Aint that somethin, all this time an I never figured that one out. Guess I figured when I be leaving I be leavin, but now….Sheeit Mush, I jus doan know—he suddenly leaned forward and smiled—but I be comin back some time anyway to be seein you, like a doctors visit, yo dig? Moishe nodded and forced a smile on his face, Ya….You come back so I give to you the bill, ya? Right on Mush—Bobby laughing and he and Moishe giving each other five. Moishe was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath and exhaled noisily, Youre needing a map to get back. Man, that be true. Aint no body findin this place ceptin you, sheeit, I doan even know where I am. Moishe chuckled, You here—then laughed as Bobby shook his head, Damn Mush, sometime you be one corny mutha. Ya, ya—getting paper and pencil—sometimes so bad I laugh. Im making some maps. Maps? To get home…and to get back here when youre coming back.

Right on.

Moishe drew parallel and perpendicular lines on one of the pieces of paper, a big X for the entrance to the cellar. He then drew a map showing Bobby how to get from the entrance to Moishes apartment. Moishe showed the maps to Bobby, Im coming with you to the entrance so Im showing you landmarks, ya? We/ll take flashlight and hide it for when you come back. Bobby nodded and Moishe showed him the other map, showing Bobby how to get back to his neighborhood. Damn, I come all the way over here? Now aint that a bitch, Im not rememberin hardly any of that…matter fact Im not rememberin hardly anythin after those mutha fuckas jump my ass—his expression suddenly hardening, Moishes eyes closing slightly as he studied Bobbys face. Anyway, I be gettin them. Some day I be gettin their asses—looking up at Moishe and smiling—but not tonight Mush, right now Im jus seein my girl and the moms, right Mush? Moishe shrugged, Maybe you should forget them…see your girl friend and mother…be happy. Mush—looking at him as if he really didnt understand—You cant be doin that. They kick my ass I got to be kickin theirs, thas the way it is Mush, I got to get up side their heads, Hey, I dont even be knowin if its day or night out there. Night—looking at his watch—8:23. You be safe—smiling mischievously at Bobby—They cant see you in the dark, only the blue spots—and Moishe laughed, Bobby shaking his head and smiling, Thats why we won the war Mush, we be natural born night fighters. Moishe stopped laughing and leaned back, his palms on the table top, So….Yeah, lets go man. It be a long time since I see my girl.