Life in a Box

by Einat Lifshitz Shem-Tov

  It was the middle of the week. Winter was beginning to subside and summer was lightly knocking on the door. Roy called to say he would be home late and asked to hear me locking up the house. About an hour had gone by when he called again and said that he was actually going to make it home early. He was home just half an hour later. We were sitting in the living room, the new television was turned off, and we were relishing the quiet. I was sitting in my father’s chair, the only one that remained intact after the devastation. Roy went into the kitchen to make himself something to eat. I thought to myself that I should do some shopping the next day because the refrigerator was almost empty. Hearing the sounds in the kitchen and the dull whistle of the wind outside lent me a feeling of calm. These sounds were common when my parents were alive, but they didn’t give me a calm feeling then. At Mickey’s house, it was Rivka that filled the house with sounds of life. Shlomo was silent most of the time.

  Roy came in with a cheese and tomato sandwich on a plate.

  “Want it?” He offered me the plate.

  “No,” I answered. “I already ate. I’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’m sorry there isn’t a wider selection in the fridge.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Should I turn on the TV?”

  “No, I like it like this, unless you want to.”

  “No, I also like it like this, it feels like home.”

  I looked at him for a minute and smiled.

  “I’m thinking of going back to school,” I blurted out.

  Roy turned his head toward me and his eyes urged me to continue.

  “I think it’s time for me to go back to college.”

  “What would you like to study?”

  No one had ever asked me that question. What do I want?

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe something having to do with people…”

  “In what manner?”

  “I don’t really know, but the subject of the soul intrigues me. Why people react in a certain way, how they choose how to deal with incidents…”

  Roy didn’t say a word, but his eyes stayed with mine and said exactly what I already knew.

  “Correct, I’m looking for answers. But it still seems interesting to me.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  I hadn’t yet thought of the practical side, but my answer came out clear and concise. “I’m going to go to college and find out.”

  “Let’s turn the television on and see if there’s anything interesting on,” Roy leaned his back against the sofa, and I thought I saw a shadow of smile at the corner of his mouth.

  At eleven o’clock that night, we turned off the television and went to our bedrooms. I was tired and expected to fall right asleep. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from the front of the room. The hallway outside my door was dark and quiet. I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket closer to my body. Again the sound—this time, for a split second, I saw a shapeless bubble rolling toward the entrance. It was the first bubble in a long time. I shrugged off the blanket and stepped out of bed barefoot. The bubble was gone.

  I followed, and looking toward the front door, it seemed the transparent air there was moving around. I moved along the hallway to the basement door, which was ajar. Funny, I always lock it after myself. Fear crept like a worm from my feet up to my chest. I walked back to my bedroom and opened the door. Roy was sleeping soundly, his mouth open and his breathing regular. “Roy,” I whispered and he woke up immediately.

  “What happened?” he asked. He sat up in bed, completely alert.

  “I think there is someone in the basement.”

  “You heard something?”

  “No, the door is open and I always lock it behind me.”

  “Wait here, I’m going to check.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Roy let out a brief sigh and said, “Follow me quietly.”

  We reached the door of the basement. It looked to be open even wider than before. Roy cocked his ear toward the basement and gave me the sign to keep quiet. Really, as if I was going to have a conversation with him at that moment. We didn’t hear a thing. He turned on the light and immediately looked inside, and down. Nothing could be heard, nothing moved. The basement was as silent as the rest of the rooms in the house.

  We crept down the stairs slowly. He was first and I followed. Nothing had changed since I was down there the last time. Most of the boxes were lying on the floor, still closed, except for those I left open. Before he could ask, I said that I had been going through them.

  “Does everything look normal to you?”

  I took another glance around. “Yes, everything seems to be exactly as I left it.”

  “What brought you down to the basement?” he asked again. “Did you hear something?”

  “No. I don’t know. I woke up all of the sudden. Maybe I heard something. I don’t remember now…” I had no intention of telling him about the ghosts I’d been seeing.

  “What did you find in these boxes?”

  “All sorts of things. I found toys, dolls, board games—they’re all new, still in their original wrapping.”

  “Why didn’t you use them when you were little?”

  “Because I didn’t know they existed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I have never seen these things before.”

  “So whose are they?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Somebody named Ethel. That’s what it says on the box.”

  “Who’s Ethel? Do you know anybody named Ethel?”

  “No! Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve seen that name before, but I don’t remember where.”

  “Try to remember. Maybe it’s the answer to the mystery of the boxes.”

  “I’ve seen this name, I’m sure of it.” My thoughts rambled about, trying to open a box of faraway memories. Now I was sure that name should tell me something, but I couldn’t focus on my memory; everything was foggy.

  “I know,” I said suddenly. The fog had lifted all at once and I recalled the page I found in the kitchen pantry after my mother died.

  Roy looked at me inquisitively.

  I explained. “After my mother died, I was cleaning the kitchen pantry, and inside one of the boxes I found the birth certificate of someone named Ethel.”

  “Where’s the certificate?”

  “I don’t remember where I put it. I was in a bad way, and I must have put it somewhere without paying attention.”

  “It could be that those things belong to someone who lived here before, or maybe your parents let someone store these games in their basement.”

  “Could be. I’ll try to look for the certificate.”

  “What’s in this box?” asked Roy, pointing to a box with the letters sent to my parents from school and were never answered.

  “That is an exhaustive description of the involvement of my parents in my life as a student and their worry, their concern…”

  Roy heard the sarcasm in my voice and understood. He didn’t ask to see the contents of the box.

  We opened other boxes. They all contained old objects; some were familiar to me and some were not. There was an old kettle without a spout, a rusty iron, a few old books held together by spider webs. In one of the boxes there was a shower curtain carefully folded, two rugs that looked new, and cups for holding toothpaste and toothbrushes. They all looked like they hadn’t been touched by human hands. I turned the box around to see if anything was written on the side, but there were no markings whatsoever on any of the sides. While I was busy with the boxes, Roy strolled around the room. Every once in a while, he would pick up some of the old objects; he showed me an old gramophone and told me he thought it still worked.

  “Take it,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “It’s really an archeological specimen. I couldn’t take it.”

  “Take it. Anyway, I don’t intend to use it, and if it stays here cov
ered in dust and mildew, I’ll have to get rid of it in the end.”

  “OK, you talked me into it.”

  Roy continued toward the other side of the room and I continued to dig through the boxes. Suddenly he came over to me with a small brown box in his hand. It was a miniature treasure chest. There were two thick parallel metal lines drawn across the lid, which was locked with a tiny key that was still in the keyhole.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “Under the shelf. It was next to the wall, like someone didn’t want it to be found.”

  I took it from his hands and turned it upside down. There was the rustle of papers coming from inside.

  “Let’s try and open it. We need a sharp object to break the lock,” I said.

  Roy took the box from me and gave the lock a sharp tap. It broke right away and fell on the floor.

  “It looks like the box has been here a long time,” he said.

  We lifted the lid. On the inner side of it was a sticker in the shape of a heart with the word “love” written on it in red marker. Inside the box were various slips of paper. Some of them were cut into different shapes—some in the shape of a heart. There was also one letter inside an envelope. It looked like the box belonged to a young girl. I fingered the shreds of paper, knowing they would disintegrate under my fingers. I took one of the notes and read, “My love, our love is eternal.” There were tiny stars drawn underneath the writing. On another piece, it said, “I love you so much. Always.” I continued to rummage around and caress the little notes—another one had “Annabel Lee,” by Edgar Allen Poe, written on it:

  Annabel Lee

  It was many and many a year ago,

  In a kingdom by the sea,

  That a maiden there lived whom you may know

  By the name of Annabel Lee;

  And this maiden she lived with no other thought

  Than to love and be loved by me.

  I was a child and she was a child,

  In this kingdom by the sea,

  But we loved with a love that was more than love—

  I and my Annabel Lee—

  With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven

  Coveted her and me.

  And this was the reason that, long ago,

  In this kingdom by the sea,

  A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

  My beautiful Annabel Lee;

  So that her highborn kinsmen came

  And bore her away from me,

  To shut her up in a sepulcher

  In this kingdom by the sea.

  The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

  Went envying her and me—

  Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

  In this kingdom by the sea)

  That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

  Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

  But our love it was stronger by far than the love

  Of those who were older than we—

  Of many far wiser than we—

  And neither the angels in Heaven above

  Nor the demons down under the sea

  Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

  For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

  And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

  And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

  Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

  In her sepulcher there by the sea—

  In her tomb by the sounding sea.

  Underneath the poem, it said, “In life and in death—together.”

  When had the tears begun to stream from my eyes? They were dripping onto the paper in my hand. I didn’t know whether it was the poem that moved me so much or the sentence written at the end of it. When I lifted my eyes, I saw Roy’s incredulous expression. He took the page from me and began to read it. Several minutes went by before he placed the page in my hand. When he spoke, his voice sounded a bit hoarse.

  “Would you like to go upstairs?”

  “No, let’s stay down here a little longer.”

  Roy sat down next to me, his shoulder touching mine. The chirping of the crickets could be heard outside, but inside, in the stifling basement, there was complete silence, disturbed only by the rustling of papers in my hand.

  I picked up another piece of paper with the simple words “I love you” written on it, without drawings or decorations. One sentence in the center of the page, joining other pages that together told the love story between a boy and a girl; a story with an unknown ending.

  I reached the bottom of the chest where a single letter rested. The envelope was open. There were brown stains on the sides from years of neglect and mildew. I took the letter out. It was folded into fours. My hands were careful not to tear the old paper as I straightened it out on my knees. It was the only piece of paper in the box that was dated. April 1973.

  Nichka, my love,

  Your tears are engraved on my shirt like the stains of memory. I caress them with my fingers and kiss them. That way I can feel you, as if you were still with me, next to my body. Don’t cry, my love, our love is stronger than any distance. My beautiful Nichka, you know that we have our whole lives ahead of us and what is two years in comparison? Think constantly of the time when we will be together and inseparable. Think about the joy we have experienced together, the laughter. Your marvelous laughter is ringing now in my ears, overcoming the dull hum of the airplane’s engines taking me away from you.

  If they were to ask me what is unique about your love, my answer would be immediate: your laughter. Don’t ever stop laughing—your laughter overcomes anything. I see you with your long hair spread across your shoulders, moving your head from right to left, your laughter filling my heart with happiness and hope. Please guard it well. I promise I will give you many reasons to laugh, love of my life. Have I ever told you that you are the sunrise of my life? That a rainy and gloomy day becomes instantly brighter and full of hope when you are by my side?

  I want to tell you so many things, but emotions are overflowing inside me and making it hard for me to get the words out. Two years, my love, they aren’t even a test for us. After all, our love is eternal. Go up to our rock every once in a while, the one we carved our love into. Every time you feel sad, go to it, until I return to you and we pick up from the exact point we stopped and these two years will disappear as if they never were.

  Take care of yourself, my Annabel, take care of our love, the joy of life within you and I will try to move time forward as fast as I can.

  I love you so very, very much,

  Your David.

  This time I didn’t even try to stop the tears. Roy put his hand around my shoulders. We sat next to each other and a sudden sadness enveloped us both. The silence around us was agreeable at that moment. The cricket stopped singing its song, and only the echo of our breathing was heard. A single ray of light suddenly made its way through the window’s shutters. Morning had broken. We realized we had spent an entire night in the basement, so full of the house’s secrets.

  “Shall we go up?” asked Roy.

  “Yes.”

  We went to the kitchen and Roy made us both some tea. It was cold outside and the chill had entered the house. A cup of tea was exactly what we both needed at that moment. Roy made the hot drinks in silence. I didn’t want to speak, and I didn’t want to hear anything. The letter and the notes in the box affected me in an inexplicable way. It was the first time I had encountered a love so powerful. The old, disintegrating page with its blue faded ink had guarded this special love for all this time; its hiding place couldn’t diminish it at all. Even now, with every fiber of my being, I could feel the depth of emotion that arose from the words that were saturated with the sorrow of separation.

  The silence in the kitchen continued. Apparently, we both needed
time. Finally, I heard Roy say, “How about we stay home today and not go to work?”

  For a minute I wanted to resist, but the moment passed. I answered that I thought it was an excellent idea.

  “What should we do?”

  “How about we get in the car and let it decide where to go?”

  I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes. Roy led us out of town. Every once in a while, we’d stop somewhere that looked appealing. We didn’t have a plan, and that was what made it so enjoyable. When we began to make our way back, it was already ten o’clock at night. Roy stopped at a gas station. He was a little tired and needed a drink to refresh himself. We sat at the table in desperate need of cleaning. Flies swarmed around us, looking for the crumbs of food left behind by other diners. I cleaned the table with my hand and set down the two bottles of Coca-Cola and the sandwiches we had ordered. All of the sudden Roy asked me the question I had been trying to avoid for many months.

  “Eva, how come your father married your mother, a Jew?”

  “I really don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she kept her Jewishness from him too, like she hid it from me.”

  “Do you think there was a chance though that he knew?”

  “If he did, then he was even crazier than I thought.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense,” Roy said thoughtfully.

  In a momentary flashback, I saw my father’s face in front of me, and then I said the following sentence, which had been buried inside me ever since I was a little girl—buried and covered in infinite layers of camouflage. “He hated her!”

  Roy lifted his head and looked at me in surprise.

  “And she him,” I continued.

  “I don’t understand. If they hated one another, why did they continue to live together? What brought them to such a level of hatred?”