Broken Leaves of Autumn

by Eli Hai

  Pam nodded. She’d calmed down some, which filled him with relief.

  The night before his journey, he couldn’t sleep. Endless thoughts and questions plagued him. Everything he knew about the big city he’d learned from the movies. Was it true that its skyscrapers kissed the sky? And what did a skyscraper, that was half visible and half hidden among the clouds, look like? And what if a skyscraper got hit by lightning during the cold winter months? What would happen then? Would all its inhabitants suffer injuries?

  After that, harder and more complex questions came to mind. Where would he live? Would he find a job immediately? And if not, how long would his money last? And if he wouldn’t find what he was looking for, would he become homeless, one of those many people who slept under bridges, in abandoned houses, in charred fields, and on filthy sidewalks? A shiver ran through his entire body, shaking him. Toward dawn, exhaustion defeated him, and he fell asleep.

  He heard the roar of the engine of the approaching bus. Jeff hurriedly pulled on his shoe. The blister on the bottom of his foot continued to bother him, but he chose to ignore it. He ran to the station and arrived there just as the bus pulled over. Excited, he got on the large vehicle. He sat in the back row, surrendering his burning body to the cool air that drizzled from the air conditioning vents. His tension was apparent in his sweaty face. The journey to the unknown was starting.

  The bus quickly pulled away, leaving a long trail of dust billowing over the asphalt road covered with desert sand. Jeff turned his head in an attempt to send one last look at the place where he’d grown up. But apart from the dust covering the town, he couldn’t see a thing.

  Chapter 2

  The double-decker bus stopped again at the station. Jeff stared out at the bustling street. The large houses, covered with dark, little bricks, looked like the exact replica of those that he saw at the previous station. Once again, he questioned himself if he should get off at this station, but something inside of him prevented him from doing so—something that he had no logical explanation for. It was as though his body was paralyzed, unable to move. While he sat, petrified in his chair, the bus pulled out of the station and continued.

  He boarded a bus in Midtown Manhattan on the way to Brooklyn. The moment he arrived in New York, he wanted to get to Brooklyn. Why did he choose that burrow? There wasn’t a special reason, apart from the fact that he was told that all the other places were too expensive or too dangerous, which was why he preferred to go there. He didn’t have a definite destination in the borough, and therefore, at the beginning of the bus ride, he decided to let the bus lead him, allowing fate to control his situation.

  The packed bus gradually emptied. In the end, it came to its final stop, and the last passengers got off and went their way. When Jeff saw he was the last passenger, he also hurried to leave the bus. He walked through the unfamiliar neighborhood, his excitement growing. It was mid-August. Outside, it was so hot, humid, and suffocating, that he had a hard time breathing. He surveyed his surroundings until his gaze rested on a mini-market near the station. It’d been hours since he’d last eaten, and apart from two gulps of murky faucet water from the toilets in the bus station in Manhattan, nothing had come to his mouth.

  A huge billboard announced in large, bright red letters of “Moishel’s Mini Market.” Jeff walked in. He noticed a small help-wanted sign on the front door, but for the time being, chose to ignore it. First, he’d eat, then he’d focus on it. The large store was empty of customers so that all attention was focused on him. Jeff ignored the inquisitive looks and collected a loaf of black bread, a small jar of mayonnaise, and a large pack of sliced salami. Then, he carefully chose a tomato, cucumber, some pickles, and a soda. Behind the counter stood a man who looked to be in his mid-sixties and, at his side, a young man. They looked strange, with their short white shirts, from underneath which peeked thick strings that dangled down on wide black pants. On their clean-shaven heads, they wore black skullcaps, large enough to cover their entire heads. Long sideburns curled on both sides of their face, from ears to chin.

  New York was a strange city. When he disembarked from the train that brought him from the airport to the center of Manhattan, he couldn’t stop staring at the passersby, most of them odd-looking. Although he had seen characters such as these in countless movies, they now seemed more amusing. Not only the people set his imagination on fire, but also the skyscrapers that emerged from the asphalt like mushrooms and covered the sky. In Phoenix, there were also skyscrapers, which he saw for the first time the day before, however, there weren’t as many, and they weren’t as tall as these buildings.

  “Five dollars and three cents,” said the young man, who looked about his age.

  Jeff fished in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of change. He put it on the counter and started counting the required sum, under the curious young man’s watchful gaze. Then he collected his produce in a paper bag, thanked the salesmen, and left the store. As he walked toward the door, he still felt the man’s stare.

  He walked quickly to the public park on the other side of the street. After a slight hesitation, he chose a bench under one of the trees and started eating. As he ate, he thought about people and how fragile they were, how dependent on food. Without food, several hours could pass, and they’d feel the misery of hunger. He remembered the stomach bug that had plagued him several months ago. He had vomited and emptied his bowels constantly and hadn’t eaten for three days. He’d felt like a rag and had almost fainted. When people were hungry, nothing interested them, their thoughts focused only on the food that would fill their stomachs. If you put off the nursing of a newborn, if only for a moment, the baby would scream as though he hadn’t eaten for days. Sometimes, hunger forced people to leave their countries and families and to wander great distances. And what was most horrific was that sometimes a man would kill for a loaf of bread. One loaf of bread was sufficient to cut off a whole life. And not only people. Animals would also eat each other when they were hungry. Only two days ago, he’d watched a documentary on the animal channel and saw how a pride of lions had ruthlessly torn apart an innocent, helpless gnu in order to appease their hunger. The moment they’d filled their stomachs, they’d sprawled on the ground, like pets that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  He hoped to find a job soon so he wouldn’t starve.

  He continued scarfing down the sandwich he’d prepared and thought about the next rich meal he’d eat if he’d be lucky enough to eat. Back home, he’d decided not to spend more than ten dollars a day on food until he found a job. When he finished eating, he gulped down the entire bottle of soda. An excellent meal for the price he’d paid, he concluded contentedly and returned to the store to read the “help-wanted” notice. “Cleaning company seeking worker,” he read carefully. When he wrote down the details, he was happy to come across the opportunity to find a job on his first day in the city.

  “Looking for a job?” he suddenly heard the young salesman’s voice.

  Jeff turned to him and nodded.

  “You’re not from here, right?” The man shook his head, his sideburns swaying right and left.

  “No, I’m from the south,” Jeff replied honestly, well aware that his drawl gave him away.

  “The minute you came into the shop, I knew you weren’t from here. You Southerners have an easily identified accent,” the man said with a smile and revealed teeth as gleaming and white as the shirt he wore.

  Jeff didn’t reply. He was starting to feel impatience in the face of the man’s nosiness.

  “Nice to meet you. The name’s Ahron.” The man extended his hand, still smiling, and his pleasant smile seemed to deflate Jeff’s irritation.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Jeff.” He shook his hand uncomfortably, wondering what the smiling man could possibly want from him.

  “How long have you been in the city?” Ahron asked.

  “I’ve only just arrived today.”

  “Today? You’ve got a place to sleep?”

  “
No. I’ve just arrived, and I’ve hadn’t had time to look for a place. I’m sure there’s a little hotel in the area, just until I find a room,” Jeff replied, his excitement growing.

  A place to stay, that was the most important thing for him now. Before he arrived in the city, he was told to try his luck in Brooklyn, where he could find a room at a reasonable price. But his fear that he wouldn’t find a place to live continued to plague him. He had five thousand dollars, a sum that was supposed to tide him over for several frugal months of rent and living expenses until he found a job. But the sight of the homeless people in the big city, which he’d seen on television, continued to haunt him. He wondered if this Ahron guy had any news for him. Was he just asking or did he have a tangible offer? Jeff came closer. The strange man no longer annoyed him. He was even starting to like him.

  “I may be able to help you find a job and a place to live. My parents have a basement apartment in the building where they live, three blocks from here. If you want, I can take you to see the apartment. In about half an hour, we’re closing for the lunch break. What do you say?” He looked at Jeff, waiting alertly for his response.

  “That’s fine with me,” Jeff answered without hesitation, surprised by the sequence of events, which had been kind to him up until now.

  “Great. After we go see the apartment, we can go to my brother-in-law, Menachem, to see if the note he put up in the shop is still relevant. I think it is. He always needs workers. Everyone uses his cleaning services. His company cleans everything: houses, offices, cars, even garbage rooms,” Ahron joked.

  After half an hour, Ahron closed the store, like he’d promised, and they made their way together to the basement apartment, which belonged to his parents.

  On the way, Jeff learned about the amiable young man’s family. “I have ten brothers and sisters,” Ahron told him proudly. “Seven brothers and three sisters. Reuven, the oldest, is twenty years older than me, and Rivka is the baby, six years younger than me.”

  “You don’t say!” Jeff said admiringly. “So many brothers and sisters? The largest family in Eloy had four children.”

  “Yes, well, you must’ve noticed by my clothes that my family is a Hasidic Jewish family,” Ahron explained. “According to the Torah, we’re required to fulfill the commandment to procreate. You’ve heard of the Jewish Torah, right?’

  “Yes, I’ve heard of the Jews and their faith, although, by the age of fifteen, I’d already left school and started working. But in the restaurant where I worked, there was a woman who talked all day long about Jews,” Jeff said and started to laugh, his laughter contagious enough to get Ahron started too.

  “You laugh like my sister, Rivka. I swear it’s uncanny, how your laughter reminds me of her…. She also has this odd, rolling laughter that immediately attracts attention.”

  “How old is Rivka?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Still a child,” Jeff decided.

  “A child? Not exactly. In the community, she’s already been mentioned with much respect. In our community, it’s customary to get married at eighteen. So, in less than a year, she’ll marry, and in two years, with God’s help, she’ll be a mother.”

  “No way! She’s practically a child!”

  “Why does that surprise you? You must know that there are places in the world where girls get married at fourteen, sometimes even at twelve.”

  “And you think that it’s all right?” Jeff persisted.

  “No. In my opinion, it really is too much, but factually, it happens.”

  “Does child marriage happen nowadays as well?”

  “Yes, but in the past, it was much more common.”

  “And how, exactly, will your sister marry? Will a groom come down from the sky? If, by the time she’s eighteen, she doesn’t have a man, what will she do?”

  “Shidduch,” Ahron answered, in an Ashkenazi accent.

  “Shidduch? What’s a shidduch?”

  “In our community, every person has a match before they turn eighteen. The parents look for the groom or bride. That’s how my parents found me my wife. I knew who my wife would be since I was sixteen. Our Rivkel also has an intended groom. Her Avraham-David is a mensch, bless God.”

  “And if your sister doesn’t want the groom your parents chose for her?” Jeff persisted.

  “The choice isn’t hers to make,” Ahron said decisively.

  “I don’t believe it! What you’re actually saying is that if she doesn’t want him, they’ll force her to marry him.”

  “Not exactly. We accept things unquestioningly; that’s how we were raised, so there’s no actual need to force us. In unusual cases, the match, the shidduch, is unsuccessful, and then, what’s the problem? You find another shidduch until, in the end, it succeeds,” Ahron concluded.

  “And what if she doesn’t love him? Or, let’s take you, for example. What if you don’t love your wife? What then?” Jeff continued asking difficult questions.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. I love my wife very much. She is, after all, the mother of my daughters. And how can you not love your wife, the mother of your children?” Ahron said, looking at Jeff in amusement, as though wondering about the question.

  “Daughters? You have kids? At your age?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I have two lovely girls. You have no idea how much fun it is to be a father when you’re young, at the height of your virility,” Ahron replied, pleased with himself.

  Jeff was silent for a moment, trying to imagine himself as a young father, but he snapped out of it immediately and concluded, “I don’t think twenty-three, not to mention eighteen, are good ages to be parents. To assume the burden of child-rearing at an age that you’re still a child yourself doesn’t seem smart to me. Besides, the fact that you’re not the one deciding who and when you marry seems problematic in itself.” He noticed Ahron was listening, yet still smiling calmly, as though he knew things of utmost importance that Jeff, himself, had no knowledge of.

  “I’m interested in one thing,” Jeff continued. “How can so many people live in one house? In my house, for example, even though we weren’t rich, my sister and I each had our own bedroom.”

  “First of all,” Ahron said, “my parents’ house is big enough for a large family. Second, there were times when some of the household members lived in the basement. And now the house has emptied because everyone got married. The house is almost empty, and even the basement has been vacated. And that’s the apartment I’m going to show you.”

  While they walked and talked, they arrived at a tall building with a large entrance. On the side, was a small path leading to a staircase. Ahron turned onto the path and slowly walked down the stone stairs, most of which were cracked and broken. Jeff followed him cautiously, carrying his bag on his back; it suddenly seemed heavy. When they arrived at the front door, he noticed it was broken and falling apart. A heavy gloom engulfed the house. There wasn’t even a small window to let in a bit of light. Ahron switched on the light, and a strong white light washed the foyer. Jeff noticed a small animal scampering quickly across the room and disappearing under the bed standing at the center of the room.

  “Are there mice in the apartment?” he asked apprehensively.

  “Maybe. It’s been a while since someone lived here. The last person who lived here was me, and that was three years ago. When I lived here, I caught one mouse, and then I was forced to rent an apartment somewhere else because Miriam, my wife, refused to live here. She’s scared to death of mice,” Ahron said and burst into laughter. After he’d calmed down some, he asked, “But you’re not afraid of the poor little creature, right?”

  “No, I’m not afraid,” Jeff replied, although the thought of sharing his living quarters with mice or rats didn’t especially appeal to him. Yet, what choice did he have? Was he better off sleeping under the open sky next to other people living on the street?

  “Here’s the bathroom.” Ahron opened the bathroom door, which emitted a shrill creaking
sound, as though angry that its rest had been interrupted. Jeff peeked inside and was horrified by the sight that met his eyes. The walls were peeling, the ceiling was covered in mold and cobwebs. The floor was uneven as a result of broken tiles, and the large bathtub had lost its original color, rust stains decorating it. Ahron opened the faucet. Murky water gushed out. “It’s been a long time since anyone used the water, and rust accumulated in the pipes. Open it for a few minutes and the water will come out clear,” he apologized.

  After that, they moved on to the kitchen, a small, narrow room. Jeff studied it and decided that it wouldn’t be an easy feat, but he would manage to shove in a small refrigerator, a cooker, and maybe a small table and chair. In the middle of the room, there was a sink, also broken. Jeff sighed, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

  “No one has lived here for a while. This is what happens when a house stands empty for a long time. There’s no one to take care of it,” Ahron apologized again.

  Jeff hesitated. What should he do now? Politely refuse and go look for someplace else, more inhabitable? What would he do if he didn’t find a place to sleep? Where would he sleep tonight?

  “And how much will it cost me to rent this dump?” he asked, not trying to offend, but attempting to negotiate a better price.

  “I’ll talk to Papa. I’ll try to convince him that in exchange for fixing up the place, you can live here for a year, rent-free,” Ahron answered with a smile, like someone who knew the value of a good bargain.

  “Fair enough,” Jeff rejoiced. He started calculating right away and came to a conclusion that with a reasonable investment, he’d be able to turn the apartment into a place that was inhabitable, as well as aesthetically pleasing.

  Calculating gain and loss, he could manage to save up some money, providing he got the lease for several years, of course, and on the condition he get a job.

  “You forgot to call your brother-in-law about the job,” Jeff remembered.