Too Many Men

by Lily Brett

  “This old couple is not so old,” Edek said. “I think this old couple is much younger than what I am.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ruth said.

  “Let us go at nine o’clock and get it over with,” Edek said.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Could you pick us up, please, at nine o’clock?” Edek said to the driver.

  “Certainly, sir,” he said.

  “Nine o’clock is a good idea,” Ruth said to Edek. “That way we’ll catch them before they go to church.”

  “You think these people do go to church?” Edek said.

  “Probably,” said Ruth. “Most Poles seem to.”

  “I will pick you up at nine o’clock sharp,” the driver said.

  At least this driver hadn’t offered to drive them to a death camp disguised as a museum, Ruth thought. There wasn’t one close by, she realized.

  They passed some graffiti painted, in white, on a large brown wall. Juden Raus! the graffiti screamed. Whoever had painted it knew enough German to paint in an exclamation mark. Ruth pointed out the graffiti to Edek. The driver looked at what they were looking at. “It is just children,” Edek said, quickly to the driver. Edek looked at Ruth and raised his eyebrows. Ruth understood that Edek had wanted to preempt the driver’s response. “It’s T O O M A N Y M E N

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  just children,” Ruth said. Edek laughed. “It is just children,” Edek repeated. “Just children,” said the driver.

  Edek looked at Ruth, again. “You do look much better,” he said to her.

  “Better?” she said. “Better than what?”

  “Better than you did look since you did come to Poland,” Edek said.

  “You was not looking so good. Now, you do look much better.”

  “I think it’s because we’re on our way home,” Ruth said. “I’ve had enough of Poland.”

  “More than enough,” I think,” said Edek.

  “More than enough,” she said.

  She was glad she was looking better. She felt better. More alert, more optimistic. She couldn’t wait to be in her own apartment.

  “So it is not such a bad thing I did what I did arrange with Garth?”

  Edek said.

  “Next to a lot of other bad things, inviting Garth to New York doesn’t seem so bad,” Ruth said.

  “You will try?” Edek said.

  “Try what?” said Ruth.

  “Try to get together with Garth,” Edek said.

  “Dad,” Ruth said, “I’ve only just agreed that inviting Garth to New York without asking me was not an evil act. Can’t we leave it at that?”

  “My daughter is very stubborn,” Edek said to Ruth, and shook his head.

  Lódz didn’t look any better. It was still grim. Still smoke-ridden. What had she expected, Ruth thought, a transformation? It was exactly a week since she and Edek had last arrived in the city. A week since they had arrived in the city of Edek’s birth and youth together. The taxi turned into Piotrkowska Street. This Saturday night in Piotrkowska was no different from the previous Saturday night. There was the same sparse crowd out for the evening. Ruth looked out of the car window. Surely there had to be more people who went out on a Saturday night? There had to be lots of people in Lódz who were relaxing and celebrating. Or maybe there weren’t? Maybe there was not much to celebrate in Lódz, Ruth thought.

  “This is a far cry from the old Saturday nights in Piotrkowska Street, isn’t it?” she said to Edek.

  Edek shook his head. “It is not the same place,” he said.

  “You can say that, again,” Ruth said. She looked at the few people who

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  L I L Y B R E T T

  were walking along the street. “They got what they wanted,” she said to Edek. “They got rid of the Jews. You would think they would look happier.”

  “Shsh, shsh,” Edek said. “Do not speak like this, Ruthie. Why do you have to speak like this? It upsets people,” he said, nodding in the direction of the driver.

  “Okay,” Ruth said. “I’ll try not to upset anyone in the very short time we’ve got left.”

  “Thank you very much,” Edek said, in an exaggerated tone of gracious-ness, at her agreement to try to be more civilized.

  Ruth looked away. She felt Edek’s gaze still on her. “You do not look so bad,” Edek said. “For the first time since we did come to Poland you look like you did used to look.”

  “I look like I used to look?” said Ruth.

  “Like you was normally,” Edek said. “Not always tired with such black near your eyes.”

  “I feel less tired,” she said.

  “You do look like your old self,” Edek said.

  “Oh, good,” Ruth said. She was pleased that Edek thought she looked like her old self. Her old self, she thought. Which self was that? The self that ran a business? The self that updated files at night, after everyone had left the office? Would she ever be that old self again? Or was she someone else? Someone who knew that no amount of order could clear or clarify certain uncertainties?

  “I’m glad I look better,” Ruth said. She looked at Edek. He looked tired. “You look tired, Dad,” she said.

  “I am a bit tired to tell you the truth,” he said. Ruth knew that if Edek was admitting to tiredness, he must be very tired. It must have been quite a night he had had with Zofia.

  “You’ll be able to have an early night tonight,” Ruth said to him. “And you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  “Of course I will,” Edek said.

  They had arrived at the Grand Victoria. Ruth watched the doorman and the porter and the driver rush to open the car doors. The taxi driver and the doorman almost collided. It was almost comic. And almost predictable.

  This is how she and Edek had arrived at the hotel last week. At the center T O O M A N Y M E N

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  of several collisions. Taxi drivers, doormen, and porters in Lódz must be covered in bruises, Ruth thought. These jobs were obviously more dangerous than they seemed.

  The doorman beamed at Ruth. Ruth smiled at him. He beamed even more broadly. “Please welcome back,” he announced loudly. “I have plenty of strong boxes if you need boxes,” he said.

  “No thank you,” Ruth said to the doorman. “But thank you for offering.” She tipped the doorman lavishly. “I do need to speak to you later,” she said to him. “I have a business request.” She stressed the word “business.”

  “I will be here till ten P.M.,” the doorman said in a businesslike manner.

  Maybe he wasn’t quite as revolting as she had originally thought, Ruth thought. Maybe she had been a bit harsh in her judgment.

  Edek greeted the doorman with gusto. You would have thought they were old friends. Ruth looked away. Edek’s ease with Poles still made her uncomfortable. She noticed that Edek had slipped the doorman what she was sure was a large tip.

  The next time Ruth looked, the porter was embracing Edek. The two men were embracing and conversing rapidly in Polish. It looked like a jovial conversation. Ruth shook her head. She knew she would never understand a fraction of the complexity that existed between Edek and all the Polish men he got on so well with. What history were they sharing?

  What understanding? What strange bonds gave them their ease with each other? She couldn’t even begin to understand.

  Ruth put her own and Edek’s passports down on the front desk. The clerk looked up and recognized her. “I will give you the very best rooms,”

  he said to Ruth. “Thank you,” she said, “I really appreciate that.” Edek was waiting for her in the lobby. He looked a bit lost. As though he had run out of people to embrace and tip and was feeling mildly bereft. She would be so glad to be leaving Poland, she thought, as she walked over to her father.

  “They said they’ve given us the best rooms in the hotel,” she said to Edek.

  “Very good,” he said.

  “Shall we unpack and meet downstairs in ten minutes?�
� Ruth said.

  “Where is your room?” Edek said.

  “Two doors from yours,” Ruth said.

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  L I L Y B R E T T

  Edek looked relieved. “Good,” he said. They walked to the elevator.

  “Are we going to have a dinner?” Edek said.

  “Of course,” Ruth said.

  Edek looked more cheerful. “See you in ten minutes,” he said.

  Ruth looked around her room. This room looked as unprepossessing as her last room. So much for being given the best rooms in the hotel. She hoped that this bed was not as lumpy as the last bed. She pulled back the bedding. Three overlapping single sheets had been used as a substitute for a double sheet. She knew that her arms and legs were going to get twisted and tangled tonight in all the edges. She turned on the shower. It dripped and spurted. She had really wanted to have a shower. She would have to stand under this one for hours to wash herself. She would shower tomorrow when she got to Warsaw, she decided.

  Edek called. “You was the one what did get the best room?” he said.

  “No,” she said. “Not me.”

  “It was not me, too,” he said, and started to laugh. Ruth was glad to hear him laugh. You needed to laugh in a place like Lódz.

  Edek was still laughing when they met in the lobby. “My room is even worse than the room what I did have last time,” he said.

  “Oh no,” said Ruth.

  “This bed has got one leg missing,” Edek said. He started to laugh even harder. “Where is supposed to be the leg,” he said, “is six bricks.”

  “Six bricks?” Ruth said, laughing.

  Edek nodded. He was trying to stop laughing. “I did count them, myself,” he said eventually.

  “You have to laugh, don’t you?” Ruth said, wiping her eyes.

  “Ruthie, you do have to laugh,” he said.

  “If you can’t sleep tonight,” Ruth said to Edek, “call me and I’ll ask them to move you to another room.”

  “I did try the bed, already,” Edek said. “I did lie down. It was not too bad.”

  “One night here is all we need, and then we can leave,” Ruth said. “I’ve booked us into the Bristol in Warsaw, for our last night in Poland,” Ruth said. “I’m ready for some luxury.”

  “I think I am, too, Ruthie,” Edek said.

  “Do you want a big dinner, or something small?” Ruth said. As soon as T O O M A N Y M E N

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  the words came out of her mouth, Ruth knew she shouldn’t have phrased the question that way. Edek could never admit to being hungry or to wanting a large meal. “Let’s eat somewhere where we can have more if we’re hungry, and less if we’re not so hungry,” she said.

  “I am not so hungry,” Edek said.

  “There’s a café across the road,” Ruth said. “They serve light meals.”

  “I did not get anything to eat on the plane,” Edek said.

  “You didn’t miss much,” Ruth said. “Liverwurst on a biscuit, and an orange.”

  “I do not like so much an orange,” Edek said.

  “I know,” said Ruth. “So let’s choose a restaurant.”

  “What about Chinee?” Edek said.

  “That Chinese restaurant we went to last time?” Ruth said.

  “Yes,” said Edek.

  “I’m not going back there,” Ruth said.

  “That was not such a bad Chinee,” Edek said.

  “That was a very Polish Chinese,” Ruth said.

  “You did like the worms,” Edek said.

  “Not enough to go back,” she said. “What about a French restaurant?”

  “What about the McDonald’s?” Edek said.

  “Dad, I don’t eat hamburgers in America,” she said. “Why would I eat a hamburger in Lódz?”

  “Okay,” he said, looking flat.

  “Let’s compromise,” Ruth said. “I’ll go to McDonald’s with you and then you can keep me company while I have a bowl of soup in the hotel.”

  “Okay, that is a deal,” Edek said.

  At McDonald’s Edek ordered two cheeseburgers, two servings of french fries, and two chocolate thickshakes. “The McDonald’s make a very good hamburger,” he said, midway through the second hamburger. He looked less tired, Ruth thought. The hamburgers had revitalized him.

  “Have another one,” Ruth said. “They’re not very big.” Edek ordered another cheeseburger. By the time Edek had eaten the last french fry, his color had improved. His cheeks looked rosy. His eyes were shining. “That was a very good dinner,” he said to Ruth. They walked back to the hotel.

  “I think I’ll have the soup in my room,” Ruth said. “I’m feeling tired.”

  “Okey dokey,” Edek said.

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  L I L Y B R E T T

  “You go upstairs,” she said to Edek. “I’ll order my soup, and check to see if there are any faxes for me.”

  “Good night, Ruthie,” Edek said.

  There were no faxes. Ruth was relieved. She didn’t want to think about work at the moment. She’d be happy to deal with whatever was happening in the office as soon as she got back. The doorman waved to her. She went up to him. “Are you ready to ask your business request?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She wished he would clip the clumps of hair protruding from his nose.

  They were making her feel sick. This man needed a nose- and ear-hair clipper. Maybe she would send him one from New York. She tried to focus on his eyes. She explained that she wanted to know if he could accompany her and her father on an expedition they had to make to Kamedulska Street in the morning.

  The doorman looked bewildered. “A taxi can take you there,” he said.

  “My father needs to dig something up in the backyard of a house, in Kamedulska Street,” Ruth said to the doorman. “What he is looking for was buried over fifty years ago.”

  “Ah, gold,” said the doorman.

  “No,” said Ruth. “What is buried there has no financial value, only emotional value.”

  “So what is the problem?” the doorman said, stepping closer. Ruth stepped back from him.

  “The problem is that this object is buried on property that belonged to my father before the war,” she said. “The current residents are disturbed by my father’s presence. I just want to make sure that my father can look for what is buried and then leave, peacefully.”

  “I see,” the doorman said. “You want me for protection.”

  “Yes,” Ruth said.

  “With pleasure,” the doorman said. “It will be my pleasure to protect you.”

  “To protect me and my father,” Ruth said.

  “Of course,” the doorman said. Ruth was pleased. She smiled at the doorman. “I’ll pay you well,” she said. He nodded. She was glad that he was so thickset. Glad that he had such a thick neck and a thick body. His presence T O O M A N Y M E N

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  would show the old couple that she meant business. She hoped that the doorman would leave all of his gold chains on. They added a degree of menace.

  “Is it possible for you to bring a spade and some plastic gloves?” Ruth said to the doorman. He hesitated.

  “I’ll pay well for them, of course,” she said.

  “A large spade?” he said.

  “A medium spade,” Ruth said. “The object we are looking for is small.”

  “I will have a spade and gloves with me,” the doorman said.

  “I’ve got a car booked to pick us up at nine o’clock,” Ruth said.

  “You will see me here at nine A.M. sharp,” the doorman said.

  “Thank you,” said Ruth.

  She went up to her room. She rang Tadeusz, the interpreter. She asked him if he was free to accompany them to Kamedulska Street. Tadeusz was pleased to hear from her. “Of course I will accompany you,” he said. She told him the doorman would also be joining them. Tadeusz laughed. “I am pleased to see that you will be more prepared this tim
e,” he said.

  Ruth felt as though she had assembled a swat team. A guard, an interpreter, a driver. What would they be presiding over? What was it that was buried? And was it still there? She would know very soon. She would know tomorrow. She thought about ordering some soup to be brought up to her room. She decided against it. She wasn’t really hungry.

  She looked in the mirror. Her father was right. She looked much better.

  Her features weren’t flattened and dampened with fatigue and tension. Her complexion was clear. She no longer looked pallid. The circles under her eyes had disappeared. She fidgeted with her hair. Even her hair seemed revitalized. The curls were curling themselves into more aesthetically pleasing loops and rings.

  She went to her suitcase and got out a small candle in a filigree silver container. She opened the lid. The candle was a gift someone had given her years ago. She had traveled with it for years. Ostensibly in case of a power shortage. After she had learned that most hotels had their own generators, she had continued to take the candle with her on trips. The candle was intact. It was not chipped or cracked. She placed the candle, in its holder, on a plate. She got out the matches she always packed with the candle. She lit the candle. The flame cast a large shadow for such a small candle. Ruth

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  L I L Y B R E T T

  switched the lights in the room off. She felt peaceful sitting there with the candle. Very peaceful.

  In Jewish tradition, a candle was a symbol of the body and soul. The flame was the soul. Always reaching upward. Jews believed that the burning of a candle aided the soul of the departed in a journey toward heaven.

  Centuries ago, Ruth had read, it had been a custom to place a towel and a glass of water near a memorial candle. This was in order to appease the Angel of Death. To allow him to wash his sword in the water and dry it with a towel. Other scholars, at the time, believed that a man’s soul returned to cleanse itself in the water. Ruth filled a glass with water. She put the glass next to the candle, along with a neatly folded hand towel. She sat in a chair in front of the candle.

  Jewish people lit candles on the Sabbath, on holidays, at weddings and bar mitzvahs. Candles also celebrated joy and life. Ruth watched the candle. The flame seemed to have a calm flicker. Some candles were erratic.

  This candle was very steady. Ruth breathed in and out deeply. A line from an old school prayer came into her head. It was a Christian prayer, the only sort they had had at Ruth’s primary school. “If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take,” Ruth said.