Under a Red Sky (11 page)

Read Under a Red Sky Online

Authors: Haya Leah Molnar

BOOK: Under a Red Sky
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“I'm going to puncture her eardrum very quickly, and I want you to turn her head sideways to drain it immediately on this towel,” a voice says.
I am cold. Grandpa covers my sleigh with a blanket and says, “You're shivering. This will keep you warm.” I can hear my teeth chatter in my head, but Grandpa's voice is gone now. The snow smells sweet, like hyacinths in the spring. I want to bury my face in the melting snow and fall asleep surrounded by the smell of spring. I sleep without dreaming for a long time.
When I wake, I'm in Aunt Puica's bed, tucked beneath her giant duvet with two huge pillows under my head. Uncle Max is sitting in his armchair, reading the paper.
“The Child's awake,” he announces, looking at me over his newspaper.
“Good,” Aunt Puica answers, “now I can give her her shot. You'd better get out of the room, Max.”
Aunt Puica has a small rectangular silver box in her hands. She takes out a syringe and screws a long, thin needle into its head. She moves the plunger in, slowly releasing some of the liquid.
“This will feel as light as a mosquito bite,” she reassures me. “Trust me. I'm better at this than any doctor. What are you staring at me for? Pull down your pajama pants and lie flat on your tummy.”
I'm scared, but I do as she tells me. “Your mother may have given birth to you, but I'm the one who's saving your butt. Don't move!” she says firmly as she pulls the needle out.
 
 
WHEN I FEEL BETTER, Grandma Iulia serves the chicken soup she's made just for me. There are carrots and rice in the broth, and Mama feeds me, blowing on each spoonful. Tata has come home from filming on location and brought me a new book by Mark Twain that's been translated into Romanian from English. It's called The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
“I read this book in English when I was your age,” Tata tells me. “You'll love it, even in this lousy translation.”
I start reading the book and can't put it down. When I finish, I reread it several times. Huck Finn astounds me! I have never met a black person, much less thought about a friendship between a white boy and a black slave. This book instantly becomes my favorite, because despite how others view their differences, Huck and Jim are great friends who love each other.
Uncle Max brought me colorful pick-up sticks, and Grandpa Yosef has given me three hard candies. I've never gotten so many presents before, not even for my birthday!
“You are a lucky girl,” Mama tells me. “You were lucky even before you were born.”
“How could I be lucky before I was born?”
“The doctor didn't believe that I could get pregnant, and when I did, I had hepatitis and so did you,” Mama explains. “That's why you looked jaundiced at birth. Then, when you were just an infant, you got sick with dysentery and we almost lost you. Dr. Meyers came over and fed you carrot juice and herb tea with pureed rice. We all took turns feeding you lots of liquids so you wouldn't be dehydrated, and here you are.”
“What else happened?” I want to hear more now.
“Isn't that enough?” Mama laughs. “Actually, when you were nine months old, I was locking the front door when your carriage rolled down the steps and you landed upside down at the bottom with a big thud. I started to scream because I thought I had killed you, but you cried even louder than I did, so I knew you were still alive. You landed on top of all those baby blankets. You were frightened, but there wasn't a single scratch on you.”
“What else makes me so lucky, Mama?”
“Well, you're lucky because you're not a genius,” she teases.
“What's a genius?”
“A genius is a person with above-average intelligence, someone who's very, very smart. But trust me, you don't want to be a genius.”
“Why not?”
“Because geniuses are generally unhappy people who don't fit in, that's why,” she continues. “Don't worry, you're not a genius.”
“I'm not?” I'm a little disappointed but don't want to show it.
“Nope. You've just got a wild imagination. Dr. Meyers had you tested when your kindergarten teacher called to tell us that you said a witch had put a spell on you so that a pencil would start to write stories in your guts. You insisted that it was a good witch.”
“I remember that,” I tell her.
“Of course you do. What a scare! Your kindergarten teacher said that you are either a genius or disturbed. Or both!”
“So which am I?” I swallow hard, but my ear isn't crackling anymore.
“Neither, of course.” Mama laughs.
“Dr. Meyers had a talk with you and reassured me that everything is just as it ought to be. You're one lucky girl. So many people love you as if you were their own, even Dr. Meyers, who's
never had children. We're all lucky to have you. You're my miracle, Eva. What would any of us ever have done without you?” Mama asks, smiling.
What would they have done? I have no idea, so I keep my mouth shut.
UNCLE NATAN
is getting married. That means he won't be sleeping on the cot in the dining room anymore and hiding behind his newspaper with those thick glasses of his that make his eyes look three times bigger than they really are. I asked Grandma Iulia how come Uncle Natan's getting married, and she snapped, “Your uncle Natan's got his needs, you know, just like all men.”
I have no idea what she's talking about, but I can tell that she's not happy with the situation and doesn't really want to discuss it. Uncle Natan brought Rosa, his bride-to-be, home yesterday to introduce her to the family. Everyone was polite, especially Rosa. She wore a yellow dress with silk stockings, black pumps, and a blue silk scarf tied around her neck in a giant knot. Rosa would almost be pretty if she weren't so stiff. Grandpa Yosef didn't say much to her, and Grandma Iulia said even less and just kept looking her up and down.
Sabina served Turkish coffee in our white porcelain cups and pieces of rahat, a sugar-powdered, fruit-flavored, jellylike treat. I was surprised that Grandma Iulia didn't bake her famous cozonac,
which she always serves to company, but maybe Uncle Natan didn't give her enough advance notice. Uncle Natan sat upright in a chair, holding Rosa's hand tightly the whole time. They didn't stay long, and after they left, Grandma Iulia started speaking in Yiddish, which is what she always does when she doesn't want me to understand what she is saying. Her words tumbled out, and Grandpa Yosef sat on their bed looking miserable and nodding. When she finally spoke Romanian again, it was a lament. “It had to be a shikse for my only son, Yosef? The war wasn't enough to teach him to stick to his own kind?” Grandpa didn't answer.
 
I'M HAPPY that Uncle Natan's moving out because now I can do my homework at the dining room table without feeling like I'm intruding on him. I love working here, where my notebook can rest on the hard surface of the table. It's so much better than writing in our room on the bed.
No one in the house seems to mind that Uncle Natan's getting married, except Grandma Iulia. It's been less than a week since he moved out, and she's been walking around with a long face, like the time she swallowed a fish bone at dinner and almost choked. Grandpa Yosef hasn't said a word about the marriage, but I notice that he's smoking more. Maybe he's worried about Grandma. Sabina hasn't commented about Uncle Natan leaving us, but I guess she must be happy, since she's got one less bed to make.
 
IT'S BEEN ALMOST three months since Uncle Natan left with Rosa. The house feels different. Grandma Iulia is still moping around with a face full of salt and vinegar, but I don't care. I'm happy because Andrei and I have become close friends. I have to be careful
about this, though, because I don't want anyone to think that he's my boyfriend. Aunt Puica and Uncle Max have already made a few snide remarks. That's why I'm glad when Claudia, one of my classmates who lives three houses down the block, asks if it's okay for her to walk home with us from school. Now no one can tease me about Andrei since there are three of us walking home together. Claudia is a tall, thin girl with spindly legs and bony arms. She wears starched dresses that rustle under her pinafore, and her hair is always tied with a giant white bow right on top of her head. She has huge birdlike eyes and a high-pitched voice, and she's an only child just like I am. Andrei is also an only child, so it's fun that the three of us are becoming friends.
Claudia's mother works nights and Sundays in a hospital emergency room. Her father used to be a teacher, but now he stays home because he's blind. He wears dark sunglasses even in the house. I had a peek at his eyes through the side of his glasses, and they look strangely caved in. It gave me goose bumps, knowing that his eyeballs might be missing. No wonder he covers them with sunglasses.
Claudia invites Andrei and me to do our homework at her house. Everything is going just fine until her father gets involved. We are doing math when he appears in the dining room with his cane knocking against the furniture in front of him. Then he pulls out a chair, feels its edge with the backs of his legs, and sits down next to us.
“There's a much easier way to solve this problem.” He speaks into the air. Evidently, he's been listening to every word we are saying.
“But, Tata,” Claudia argues, “we have to solve the problem by the method that Comrade Popescu has taught us.”
“Nonsense, Claudia. A problem should always be solved in the quickest, easiest, and most elegant manner.” Her father's words spray a little spit into the air. “I don't know why your Comrade Popescu chose this method, but I can tell you that there is a far quicker, more efficient solution.”
Andrei and I exchange glances and wait to see what Claudia will do. Andrei looks uncomfortable and mumbles something about having to go home to do his chores. He excuses himself and leaves quickly. I linger because I don't know what else to say and I feel sorry for Claudia, who looks like she is going to burst into tears.
“Tata, can't I just solve it the way Comrade Popescu showed us and I'll do it your way at home?”
“Absolutely not. The very basis of learning and teaching is to question your thinking, and you'll find out that there's more than one way of arriving at the same solution. I'm certain Comrade Popescu would approve of you exercising your gray matter. Do you know what gray matter is, Eva?” Her father blows this question like a big bubble into the dining room.
Before I have a chance to open my mouth, Claudia sighs and rolls her eyes. “No, Tata, she doesn't. What is it?”
“It's your brain, honey. It's what really matters!” Claudia's father laughs at his joke. Claudia looks upset, so I motion for her to come to the bathroom with me.
“Eva's got to go to the bathroom,” she announces into the air. “I'm going to show her where it is and we'll be right back.” Claudia walks backward without taking her eyes off her father, who continues to sit motionless at the head of the table with his hands folded on top of his cane handle. He nods at Claudia and looks up into the air from behind his dark glasses. When Claudia and I are
finally in the bathroom with the door shut, I whisper, “Why don't you tell him that you'll do it his way and then just write it in the way Comrade Popescu wants us to do it? He can't see what you write in your notebook, and you won't get in trouble at school.”
Claudia considers this for a moment and then whispers, “I can't do that. That would be lying to my father, and he can see right through that. Then I'll really get in trouble.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know.” She shrugs. “I suppose I'll have to tell Comrade Popescu the truth and hope she doesn't get angry.”
 
WHEN I GET HOME, Uncle Natan is lying on his cot in the dining room as if he has never left. I am really annoyed because I have to take my books back to our room and finish my homework on the bed. In the evening, Uncle Natan shows up at the supper table as well and no one says a word about it.
The next morning I notice that his cot has been slept in, so before taking off for school I stick my head into the kitchen and ask Grandma Iulia what's going on.
“He's getting a divorce,” she says.
“Why? He's only been married three months!”
“You can't expect a man to stay married to a woman who encourages stealing.” Grandma shakes a wooden spoon over a hot pot. “Aren't you late for school?”
“Mama,” I ask as I'm getting into my pajamas that night, “why is Uncle Natan getting a divorce?”
“He and his wife, Rosa, had a big disagreement,” Mama answers, “and when a couple doesn't get along, they stop living together
and they get a divorce. That frees them up to go on with their lives.”
“But, Mama, Uncle Natan's not going anywhere. He's back on his cot as if he's never left. How did he know so quickly that he can't get along with Rosa?”
“That's a good question, but I don't know the answer. All I can tell you is when people don't get along, there are little disagreements and there are big disagreements. My guess is that they had a very big disagreement.”
“Grandma Iulia said that Rosa expected Uncle Natan to steal.”
“Did she say that? It's possible, but you know, sweetheart, no one can really get between a husband and a wife. You'll never know the truth, because the truth is different depending on who's looking at it.”
“Mama, isn't the truth the truth no matter what?”
“No. Most of the time the truth changes.”
“I wish I knew what really happened,” I say, and look up to see Mama's reaction.
“Then you'll just have to ask Uncle Natan. But all you're going to get is his side of the story, not Rosa's. And even if you were to ask her, you'd find that she disagrees with Uncle Natan, so you'll have to decide what the truth is for yourself.”
“How can I decide what the truth is?” I ask.
“It isn't their truth that matters. It's your truth. And only you can decide that. Time for bed, darling.” Mama tucks me in.
“Mama, are you and Tata going to get divorced?”
Mama's smile fades. “Of course not.”
“But you don't always agree with Tata, do you?”
“Right. But we love each other far more than we disagree. You should never be afraid to disagree with anyone, Eva. It's just part of life. It takes a very big disagreement for two people to get a divorce.”
“Please promise me that you won't get divorced, Mama, even if you have a big disagreement. Aunt Puica's said some awful things about Tata, and she thinks that you ought to divorce him.”
“That's none of her business,” Mama snaps. “Puica's got no right to talk about us. Don't you worry, we're not getting divorced.”
“That's good, Mama, because I don't want you to, even though I'm not sure that Tata loves me.”
“Oh my God, Eva, why would you ever say such a thing? Of course your father loves you! He loves you very, very much.” Mama peers into my eyes as if I were hiding the truth there. I can tell that she believes Tata loves me, but I'm not sure that this is Tata's truth. If it is, then how come he never tells me he loves me?

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