“Mr. Weiss was a Sonderkommando,” Samuel said. “They—”
“Burned the bodies. I know.”
Samuel took the bottle of aspirin from his desk drawer.
“Headache?” Gleba asked.
“A small one.”
“Smear Ben Gay on your forehead. That’s what I do. Makes the blood flow. Why is what he did important for my case?”
“Affects Mr. Weiss’ credibility. Whether the judge believes his testimony—or yours. He helped the Nazis.”
Gleba’s smooth, unwrinkled face changed, thin gray lines appearing around his mouth and eyes.
“Use that, Mr. Baas. Let the Jews spit on him and the judge think he is a coward but I want you to understand something. When the Germans had you in their hands there were only two choices. Do what you could to live or give up and die.”
“How did you know about the job of the Sonderkommandos?” Samuel asked him.
“Everyone in the war did. It wasn’t a secret.” Gleba reached into his black suit jacket “Would you like a candy?”
He smiled, his face again as bland as a spleen.
Samuel swallowed his aspirins.
“Mr. Baas?”
Samuel looked up from his pork fired rice. Another reporter. In the last few months they had left him alone. He could eat in this Chinese restaurant or smash crabs at Captain Conch and not be bothered, the newspapers covering other stories. Nothing new had happened in Mr. Gleba’s case. Why was this woman here now?
“I’m having dinner,” he told her. “Leave your card.”
“I will.” Stocky, her face broad and shoulders wide, her graying blonde hair parted in the middle, she handed him a manila envelope and stood there waiting.
Samuel hesitated.
“It’s important,” the woman said.
He took out a card with attached photo. The eyes looked familiar.
“That’s my father, Kyrlo Gleba, and this is his Nazi identification signed by the Commandant of Treblinka. He was a guard there. I wanted you to know.”
“Nadya?”
“My mother’s choice. Even before I met my partner I never used the name Gleba. Now my last name is the same as hers, Williams. She read about him in the paper but didn’t tell me. I found out. We have a good life. Arlene said many times, the past is over. So I stayed in Chicago.”
“What changed?” Samuel asked.
“The past is never over, Mr. Baas.”
“How did you get this?”
“When I was a teenager I searched through his dresser and found a box. The card looked important so I took it.”
“Why did you do that?”
“A reason? Besides how he treated my mother? I loved a girl, my first love. He beat her up in my bedroom, pulled me by the hair down the stairs. I never saw her again. I wanted to hurt him but didn’t know how. I waited. Until now.”
“I’m your father’s attorney. My job is to defend him. I’m not accusing you, but this I.D. could be a fake.”
“Exactly what I thought you would say. That’s why I didn’t give it to Mr. O’Malley. You are a smart lawyer. You would try and prove the identification false. It’s not, but who knows what would happen in court? Now the choice is yours. Good bye, Mr. Baas.”
She walked away, no one noticing her, the chatter of men and women enjoying dinner continuing, only Samuel knowing her story.
The card in front of him, he looked down at the face of a young man in a dark uniform, head shaved, eyes staring straight ahead, Gleba’s name, height, and weight information authenticated by a Nazi seal. What did his eyes reveal? Authority or someone trapped? Maybe both…
He was only a guard, a Ukrainian, not the German Mr. Weiss heard. Has anything really changed?
In this restaurant smelling of fried food where people shared Scorpion bowls, ate crab rangoon and General Gao chicken, on this table next to his tea and rice, Gleba’s face transported Samuel to Treblinka.
Hungry Jews.
Dead Jews.
I told that reporter Shapiro, guards didn’t kill anyone.
Did he have a choice?
Do I?
A waiter walked past carrying a pu pu platter, the blue flame of its grill waiting for the meat.
On his desk Samuel found a note written on a small piece of notebook paper.
Ginger and I are going to do some traveling.
I’ve got money, she’s got savings,
we have the van. Don’t know when we’ll be back.
Sorry I was such a shit. Thanks for saving my ass
at the beach. Gary
Home early, Samuel again read Gary’s letters from Vietnam.
15
They went to lunch. Sullivan ordered drinks.
“I’m cutting back my hours,” Samuel informed him.
“Good for you! That’s what I’ve been saying, the work can wait! Sorry about my niece. I should have known. Margaret looks like a nun.”
“I’m glad I met her. She never pretended.”
“Didn’t push you back into your shell?”
“No. She has her calling, I have mine.”
“Well said. Drink up, son. I want to order another round.” Sullivan finished his martini.
“No more for me.” Samuel took another bite of his salami sandwich.
After volunteer lawyers at Haitian Legal Aid agreed to represent his Haitian clients, Samuel withdrew as their attorney with one exception. He kept Daniel’s case. Settled or tried in court, Samuel closed all his personal injury files, successfully concluded Sullivan’s immigration referrals and didn’t take any new ones.
Whenever he walked past Vera’s desk, she looked at him but didn’t say anything.
At the courthouse, Samuel picked up an application for a marriage license from the clerk’s office then drove to Krome.
When Daniel walked into the conference room Samuel immediately saw he’d been beaten.
“Goddammit! What happened?” He rushed over and helped Daniel into a chair. “Who did this?” Head down, the boy didn’t answer. “OK, this is what I’m going to do. I’m leaving, but I’ll be back. I’ll file for a mandatory injunction, get an emergency hearing, and have you moved into protective custody.”
His once handsome face now cut and bruised, Daniel looked up terrified.
“Please, Mr. Baas, no, it will be even worse. I once told you I’m not afraid to die. It ends pain. I have my own way out.” The smiling boy, the open, friendly teenager with the big eyes of a child had vanished.
Samuel put the application on the table.
“What is this?” Daniel asked.
“The paper I need in order to get you a marriage license.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you marry an American citizen they can’t deport you.”
“But I don’t know any women.”
“I do,” Samuel said.
“How can this be? Marrying a stranger? Someone I don’t love?”
“Love isn’t necessary.” He clicked his silver pen and handed it to the boy.
Leaning over the application, one eye swollen and partially shut, Daniel signed on the line.
“Good. Now I’ll make sure no one hurts you again.” Samuel turned toward the locked metal door. “Where’s the fucking guard!” he shouted.
Samuel waited for Kate to call. Finally, she did.
“I didn’t get my money.”
“I know. I didn’t send
it.”
“Are you playing games with me?” she asked angrily. “I thought you wanted to help me!”
“I do. How does $5000 sound?”
Kate repeated the number, then silence.
“Are you still there?’ Samuel asked.
“Yeah…What do I have to do? Marry you?”
The sadness he felt, sudden and black, quickly gone, Samuel answered without emotion.
“Not me. Daniel.”
“Daniel?”
“He’s a client of mine. His immigration case is on appeal. He’ll lose and they’ll deport him. But not if he’s married to you, a girl lucky enough to have been born and raised in the very heartland of America!”
“Is this a crime?”
“Yep. Fraud. You have a slight risk, but not $5000 worth. I’m the one they’ll come after. Now I’m sure you don’t care—I remember your really neat poster of Angela Davis and comments about the unfairness of white men’s laws—but you should know. Daniel’s Haitian.”
“A black man.”
“That’s right. Do we have a deal?”
“No,” and Kate hung up.
$5000. The amount Gleba had paid him. Too much money for Kate to turn down. His feet on his desk, Samuel leaned back and sipped his black coffee.
Surprised by seeing new wrinkles in Vera’s crinkled face, Samuel knew the appellate court had ruled.
“How long?” he asked her.
“Two weeks. That’s the way it is. Even a boy’s life isn’t worth shit if he’s Haitian.” She jammed her half-smoked cigarette into an overflowing ash tray and lit up again. Worried about her health, Vera had begun chain smoking only Camels with filters.
Anxious and nervous, his leg bouncing, Samuel sat at his desk. Had he misjudged her? What if Kate didn’t call back? Did Ginger have any friends?
The intercom, Vera’s unpleasant voice—Samuel quickly picked up the phone.
“OK,” Kate said. “What’s next?”
“You’ll fill out your part of the application, I’ll file it and get the license. Then we drive to Krome.”
“And my money?”
“In my trust account. You’ll be paid in full once the immigration interview is over.”
“What will they ask me?’
“The names of Daniel’s father, mother, grandparents, cousins. Where he went to school. How long you have known him. Where did you meet. Does he have any scars. Why didn’t you write him or visit the detention center sooner. These questions and more. Let’s not fool ourselves. This marriage looks like the sham it is. But I’ll prepare both of you. We’ll create a narrative. There won’t be a detail about each other’s life you won’t know. Daniel will even be able to tell them the color of your underwear.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can. You’re smart, and you’ll get the money even if his application for adjustment of status is denied. Where should I pick you up?”
They drove to the courthouse, then on the long road toward Krome.
“You’ve changed,” Kate said.
“I know,” Samuel answered. “And not for the best.”
“That’s describing me.” She flipped the visor down, glanced at herself in the mirror, quickly pushed it back up. “It’s funny. I hated wearing makeup but it worked. Men liked me. Now I sleep with it on but I sleep alone. Tell me, Samuel. Am I that ugly?” She looked at him, her tired eyes ringed by dark circles.
“I will always love you,” he answered.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Maybe my biggest was with you.” Kate put her hand on his knee.
Samuel moved his leg away.
She leaned against the door and went to sleep, Samuel relieved he no longer had to talk.
At the detention center he introduced her to Daniel.
“Hello,” the boy said, looking down. Kate scratched her arms and glanced around nervously.
“This is the marriage license,” Samuel said, taking it from his briefcase. “I’m writing in today’s date and my name as the person who performed the wedding. There. You two are now married.”
Shocked, confused, they both stared at him.
“You’re a lawyer, not a priest,” Kate said.
“I’m a notary and notaries can officiate at weddings in Florida,” Samuel answered.
“We didn’t say anything,” Daniel said. “I’ve been to weddings in Haiti. The man and woman always say special words to each other.”
“We don’t need a ceremony. I have a list of what you two need to know for the immigration interview. Vows are included. Memorize them. OK, time to get started. We have a lot of work to do.” He sat at the table and waited.
Daniel walked over to Kate and handed her a small wildflower.
“Thank you,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I see why you are helping me. You are a beautiful person.”
She began to cry.
For the next week, as they drove to meet Daniel, Samuel and Kate talked, joked, and remembered, but she never spoke about the abortion and he never mentioned their child.
“Hi, Samuel. What’s up?”
Just back from Las Vegas, Sullivan sat relaxed behind his desk.
Samuel closed the door and remained standing.
“You look happy. I guess you did well.”
“Yeah, this time I made a few bucks. Is that why you’re here? To talk about my gambling habits?” The smile gone, Sullivan leaned forward, squeezed his large hands together.
“Not exactly. I’m leaving, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Mister…”
“Yes sir.”
“You mean you’re going on vacation. A fine idea! I have this travel agent—”
“Moving away,” Samuel said. “I don’t want to practice law anymore. I’m done.”
“I should have seen this coming.” Sullivan settled back in his chair. “First you tell me you want to work less, then you stop taking my cases, now you’re quitting! Look, all of us feel that way from time to time. Be practical. What else will you do? Sell shoes? Have a seat. Let’s talk this through. Better yet, we’ll go out, get a few drinks and I’ll introduce you to a woman I know. Nothing serious. Just for fun. You won’t have to screw her.”
“A Mr. Smith will call for an appointment or he might just stop in,” Samuel told him. “Have a recorder hidden and ready. Give him what he wants.”
“Give him what?” Sullivan said angrily. “I guess you still don’t know me very well, son. No one tells me what the fuck to do.”
“Then they’ll kill you.”
“Who?’
“My family. The tape is insurance. If needed, you can use it to make a deal with the government, get immunity from anything you might have done and Federal protection.”
The intercom buzzed. Sullivan ignored it.
“What will this so-called family of yours do if they find out you warned me?” he asked.
“Kill me too,” Samuel answered. “I have just one request. Represent Daniel. He married a U.S citizen. I performed the marriage, prepped them for the interview. You weren’t involved.”
“No exposure.”
“That’s right. All you need to know is that they are in love.”
“I’m sure,” Sullivan answered. “And the Nazi?”
“My problem. Good-bye, Mr. Sullivan. Thank you for calling me son.”
“Wife two was so mean!” Tammy said, sniffling as Samuel walked over to her desk. She down into her generously visible cleavage and taking out a
hanky, loudly blew her nose. “When he didn’t answer she swore at me and hung up!”
“She’ll call back,” Samuel assured her. “This will make you feel better. I know you like them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baas!” Tammy sliced through the cellophane with a long, red fingernail, flipped the lid up and popped a bon-bon into her mouth.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Vera said to him. “I’m not stupid. I’ve seen this coming.”
“I have a check for you.”
“I’ll take it. Don’t know how long he will keep me here. My skills are so much different than hers. But I’ve decided to help the floozy. It will be a lot easier than what I went through with you. I made you into a lawyer. I can make her into a real secretary. The tramp.”
“You’re getting soft, Vera.”
“Try and hug me and see what happens.”
“Mr. Sullivan will be handling Daniel’s case. When it’s over, send Kate this envelope.”
“A love letter.”
“Yes, Vera, that’s what it is.”
He hugged her.
After he left, she tried lighting a cigarette.
Samuel went home and began shutting down his condo life.
He donated his suits to Goodwill, left for Pierre and Lovely the condo’s furniture and Kate’s painting of two leaves and a tree, the art wrapped and stored in a hallway closet. Burning Gary’s letter’s and Kate’s nude photos had seemed a dignified way to dispose of them. From the balcony at the back of the condominium he watched the shamrock keychain he threw arc toward the Intracoastal then disappear without a splash into the water.
Lovely opened the door of the apartment. A large woman with flour on her hands, she immediately stepped back.
“He is a foolish man. I did nothing. There are no curses.”
“Is he here?” Samuel asked. “I haven’t seen him lately.”
“Pierre is working.”
“And not drinking. That’s great. I want to give you this.”
Gables Court Page 27