During the night, she hugged Tamar and concluded that the next morning, she would tell her father the whole truth. The concealment did not improve the condition of her father. Maybe the manifestations of truth would do it. Serenity that she didn’t feel for weeks penetrated her. She felt a kind of silkscreen closing her eyes. For the first time since the death of Esther, she slept peacefully.
Suddenly, there were cries of grief. Sherry got out of bed heavily, and found her mother hugging her father, screaming and crying. “Shlomo, what do we do now, how will we manage without you?”
Sherry was nailed in place and thought, ‘how did you dare to die now, why won’t you wait until morning?’ Sherry looked at her grieving mother, as she was detached from the situation. Tamar got off the bed and watched her mother lean on her father. Sherry, who was totally absorbed from the plan that was distorted, tried to hide the terrible sight from Tamar. Would the manifestation of truth have prevented his death? With a trembling body, Sherry approached her mother and clung to her, unable to look at her father lying lifeless in bed. She felt that her legs were unable to hold her as her head rested under her mother’s arms. She felt the pain in full force, the great sorrow that she was not able to tell the truth to her father. Something inside her was telling her that this could have saved him. With consciousness, she was washed with an uncontrollable burst of tears. In all sorrow, she felt her mother’s arms around her and around Tamar, her head resting on them. “Do not worry, I’ll take care of you,” she promised in a voice full of tears.
They stood next to their father’s bed, as one piece, as one body, as if they wanted to draw strength from each other and prepare themselves for a difficult time.
6
It was Passover holiday, but in Sherry’s house, her mother and her little sister Tamar didn’t have anything that would remind them of the holiday, except for the “bread of affliction” – Matsot, unleavened bread. In the past, her mother used to buy the most luxurious fabric that she could find, turning it into a tablecloth. She would set it with beautiful serving wares with precision to the smallest degree. She always received compliments. It was clear to everyone that her fingers turned anything, as simple as they were, to a special creation.
At 9:30 in the evening, her mother and Tamar retired to bed, leaving the dishes behind them. Sherry cleared the table and washed the dishes, then took her easel out to the yard. Bright and sparkling stars were sprinkled in the sky. They seemed to her to be memorial candles for her father and for her sister. She sat on the grass and settled into the dark night and into the memories.
Sherry tried to think in what stage Esther walked away from her. She went over the years, but could not find the point of rupture. Instead, only the last moments and the memories together were transpired, accompanied with strong feelings of yearnings.
Sherry got up from the grass and approached the easel. She took a big brush and spread a large amount of black paint on the canvas with various shades. Then, she took a small paintbrush and painted two little stars, shining, distant, unreachable, yet illuminating all the blacks around. The daybreak ceased the stars to shine. Black sky gave way to the domination of a new day, and Sherry’s painting was exposed to her face, all lit up. She looked at it, captivated. She loved it. She wrote, “Two Stars,” carefully at the back and went to sleep. She left the painting to dry in the yard.
She woke up just in the early noontime and saw her mother coming back home from the house of Nazir. “Nazir sent you the payment for the paintings. You are earning more than me,” her mother smiled, as she handed her the envelope.
Sherry held the bunch of paper bills in her hands, pleased with herself, satisfied that she was able to paint a fair quantity of paintings for Nazir’s friends. She put the money back in the envelope and handed it back to her mother who took the money without a word. Only in the evening, when she sat down with Sherry in the yard, did she compliment her on the handsome amount she earned. “Do you have more orders?”
“There are lots; I can’t stand in time. You have to help me paint.”
“Actually, Nazir informed me today that he found another cleaner and that I can be free and help you with the loads of orders. But, I think it’s not a good idea; it takes a long time for me to finish a painting.”
“You paint so beautifully. I can understand why it takes you time. We will demand more money for your paintings.”
“Time is not a testimony to the quality. What will happen if Nazir stops arranging painting jobs for you? I will lose my cleaning job and also the painting. What will we do for income?”
“Maybe you’re right Mom, but why should we worry that Nazir will stop giving us work? Meanwhile, we have lots of work, let’s do it together.” She sent her mother a pleading look. “Please.”
“Well, you’ve got me,” her mother said with a smile. Sherry hugged her in response.
Her mother paused for a bit. “This morning, I saw the painting you did last night. It’s one of the most wonderful paintings you ever painted.”
“I missed Father and Esther.”
“Me, too. That’s why I went to bed early. I wanted the Passover eve to pass over me.” Her mother plunged into the past. “I remember the day when I came to visit you at school. You were in the second grade then. I waited for you outside until the class ended. While waiting, I went down the hall and looked at the paintings on the wall. The subject was ‘smoking is detrimental to health.’ I saw a painting of cigarette ashes still burning and attached to the filter. You drew a heart and the cigarette lie across it. The combination of the ash and the spark at the end, reflected such a powerful message...a cigarette lights the chambers of the heart.” Her mother looked at Sherry and seemed to be awakened from a dream. “There was no name on the painting, but I knew you painted it. You have a genius way of thinking that creates insights that are integrated in the painting. Remember this: everyone can paint, but no one is able to think like you. That’s what special in your painting, your way of thinking.”
Sherry looked at her mother in agreement. “Mom, sometimes I look at the inanimate objects and feel that they tell me a story. When I paint them, I feel like I’m peeling off the paint and building something else out from them or giving them life.”
Her mother’s face was filled with brilliance. “That’s exactly what your father said about your paintings, that you take simple things and turn them into something special. You have a common language with the object you paint. Until his last day, he was looking at your paintings. It’s the only thing that made him happy during his last moments.”
Sherry looked at her mother shedding a tear of joy. She had no idea.
“I want to earn world recognition for my paintings.”
“For you, or for your father?”
Sherry focused on her mother’s question.
“For me.”
“Then you should continue and learn.” She approached the painting, “Two Stars,” held a brush, mixed colors, and pulled the brush into the canvas with rough hands, caused by the detergents and cleaning materials. But on the canvas, those hands moved expertly. She followed her movements with explanations designed to expand the opinion of Sherry, and to teach her how to transform a painter into an artist.
Sherry looked at the finished painting and understood the meaning of being the best. “The painting is so beautiful, I’m glad that Nazir finally found someone in place of you so that you will be able to help me with the paintings.”
The new worker finally arrived at Nazir’s house, so Mazal was able to help her daughter. In as much as Sherry was familiar to her mother’s ability in painting, she realized how good she was and how she, Sherry, was very far from her abilities. “I will never know how to paint better than you.”
“You are a good painter. You just need to develop a unique style within you.”
“What’s unique?”
“Your own style, something that reflects your personality.”
Sherry was left confused
.
Most of the time while painting, Sherry wanted to talk with her mother about her father, but she was afraid to blemish the perfect moments she experienced with her mother through those bitter memories. After the death of her father, they found lots of common activities other than painting, and they became friends. The household chores were divided almost equally between them, and in the remaining free time, Sherry, who had not been in school, took advantage of spending time with her sister, Tamar. She would wet her with water; rub her with paint colors; tickle her endlessly; and lose for her in the checkers game again and again. She became a second mother to her.
“Why were we not able to enjoy these little things when your father was still alive? Why were we so wrapped up with the things that we lost, forgetting the things that we had?” her mother suddenly asked one night when they were sitting under the strawberry tree.
Sherry did not answer. Any conversation about her father brought her back to that same night that took her father and thwarted her last chance to confess her actions.
“I do not know what killed your father. It could be the disappearance of Esther, or the departure of his brothers to America and their insensitivity to his situation.”
Her mother continued. “Where do people find the ability to act with such evil? How did his father dare to treat him like that?” Sherry took a gentle bite on the top slice of orange, listening to her mother. “Your father’s family heard about Esther’s disappearance and they did not even come to visit, to ask and be interested on what has been going on with us.” Her mother looked straight to Sherry.
Sherry felt how she gathered the courage to ask her mother the question that bothered her for weeks. She tried to make her voice calm. “Do you think that their behavior had caused Daddy’s situation to become more difficult?”
Her mother’s face became serious. “No one had made your father sick. He was just a weak man.” She paused and then added, “The disappearance of Esther hurt your father so much, but it’s hard to admit it, without his family, he was helpless, especially without his father, whom he was tied with.”
“And how do you manage to survive without Esther and the lack of knowledge about what happened to her?”
“It hurts me, but I learned to live with it and accepted it as a destiny from above. Besides, I am a mother of two other daughters, and I need to worry about them.”
Sherry leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, what do you think happened to Esther?”
“Is there something you are trying to tell me?” Her mother asked weakly, inviting a confession. Sherry could not give up the opportunity to ease herself. She felt the suffocation that only truth seemed to ease her breath.
Sherry raised her head from her mother’s shoulder and stared at her father’s chair, where he used to sit when he was sick. The truth came out of her mouth that cut the silence, and the hair-raising events seemed to come and go deep into the lake, poisoning the fresh air.
Her mother felt that her body was clinging tightly to the tree. She felt that she didn’t have the capability to breathe. She heard the cries of her daughter, Esther, out from the ground.
Sherry finished her story. There was no reaction, only silence just like the lake on that same day, after the girls left, leaving Esther lifeless. A dry wind was blowing and they remained silent. Sherry wanted to ask her if she was angry with her, but she preferred not to risk in a positive response. She got up without saying a word, leaving her mother alone under the tree, next to the chair where her husband used to sit.
In the morning when she woke up, she found her mother busily arranging the house. She did not look towards Sherry, even when she passed near her. There was no expression on her face and not even a clue to what she was going to say. “I want you to leave.”
Sherry looked at her quizzically. After telling the story to her mother, a few scenarios came to her head, but this was unbearable. She sent a pleading look at her mother. “Where will I go?” she asked weakly.
“I do not want you to stay here for another moment.”
Sherry pleaded to her mother’s face that looked tough and serious. “You can’t throw me out. Where will I go?” What an irony of fate! Suddenly, the warehouse became a house, a refuge.
“I want to smuggle you to Israel or America, I still do not know.”
Sherry suddenly realized that her mother didn’t see her accountable to what happened, but was thinking how to save her. The anxiety that enveloped her a while ago was gone. “I’m not leaving you and Tamar; we should be together.”
Her mother’s voice was calm and clear. “I spoke this morning with someone who succeeded in moving his son to Israel. He said that he would send me someone from the ‘Jewish Agency.’ It’s a secret Israeli organization that helps Jews escape from Iran. I hope he will come to us as soon as possible and help us get you out of here.”
“But, I do not want to leave. I want to stay with you and Tamar. I lost enough,” Sherry replied.
Her mother’s face became serious. It seemed that in one night, she changed into a strong and authoritative mother. “Do not make it hard to me. We have the money that we earned in paintings. I’ll get a loan from Nazir and smuggle you out of here. When I am able to collect more money, I will run away with your sister, and we will meet you there. For now, I need to get you out of here.”
“Are you punishing me for the things that I told you yesterday?”
Her mother’s face became soft.
“God forbid,” she said and hugged her. “If you look into my heart, you’ll see that I want to go to the school right now and kill that girl. But, what would happen to you and Tamar then? For now, we don’t have the money to organize the escape for the three of us. I’d rather save at least you. I hope that in a few months or years, we will be able to join you.”
“How will I live without you?” Sherry asked, tears flooding her face.
Her mother put her hand on her damp cheek. “Do not worry, I’ll come sooner than you think. I could not bear missing you.”
From that day on, the three of them slept in one bed, taking advantage of each day and every moment to be with each other. Tamar lay between Sherry and her mother, protected with love from both sides. She couldn’t understand that the extra attention she got from her sister was intended to cover the many years of scarcity in the future, years in which Sherry would not hug her or shower her with love. As the happiness of Tamar rose to heights, the pain of Sherry became deeper. She envisioned what the future held for Tamar, life without a father and sisters, with a sick mother whose concern of income did not allow her to find time to spend with her.
During Sherry’s last night, she hugged Tamar. She felt that her heart was bleeding.
“Be careful not to wake her,” her mother warned her. But, all Sherry wanted was to say goodbye to Tamar. She wanted to tell her she loved her and explain that she wouldn’t see her for a long time. She preferred to say goodbye properly rather than run away, leaving Tamar to wonder with questions. She shook her palm lightly, without her mother noticing it.
Tamar opened her eyes and closed them again. “Tamar,” Sherry whispered, “I’m going, I want to say goodbye. Please wake up.”
“Where are you going?” Tamar asked, half asleep.
“I’m going far away.”
“And when will you come back?”
Sherry turned her eyes away from Tamar’s face, feeling sorry that she did not explain everything to her a few days ago because her mother was afraid that the escape might leak from the lips of a twelve-year-old girl. “I will not be coming back here. I’m going to another country. You and Mom will join me later.”
Tamar nodded in agreement and returned to the world of dreams. Sherry was afraid that when Tamar woke up in the morning, she would be afraid to close her eyes again, afraid that her mother would also be taken away from her in the middle of the night.
7
In the total darkness, Sherry and her mother waited for the
driver who would take Sherry on her new journey. A couple of cars passed by them this time of night, but the van that the two waited for was delayed, leaving them additional moments of love before being torn apart. Sherry held the small suitcase containing some clothes, pictures, and a warm sweater. Despite the warm air, Sherry was shaking. Her mother hugged her.
“I’ve put some clothes in the suitcase,” her mother said painfully. “I did not want you to carry a large suitcase in this difficult journey. There will be a lot to walk by feet.”
Sherry looked at her mother with wet eyes, pleading in silence to let her stay with her and Tamar. Her mother looked at her with a loving gaze, and Sherry was sure that she was going to surrender. A van pulled over near them, headlights off. Her mother kissed her and was about to go away, but Sherry took her hand to stop her. “Mom, please, I want to stay with you,” she pleaded her again.
Her mother pulled her hands away. “Go, the driver is waiting for you. No one must see us. You are endangering me, you, and Tamar. Come on, get up to the car,” her mother urged her, wishing that the difficulties of separation were already behind her.
She stood across the square on the other side of the street and watched her daughter enter the vehicle. The driver drove around the square. Sherry’s hands were on the window. Her face was covered with a vail, but she knew that Sherry’s eyes were filled with tears. She sent kisses to Sherry. She knew that she would not be in peace until she met her again. The vehicle turned around and Sherry hurriedly looked at the other side, sending last glances to her mother. The driver drove off. Sherry’s mother made her way back home. She couldn’t understand why the pain of separation from Sherry had more impact than all the other moments of separation that she experienced in her life. She wondered if Sherry knew the depth of sacrifice that was required from her to send her daughter away.
Sherry held her tears that welled up inside her. She did not want to share these intimate moments with the driver. Her presence with a stranger intensified her loneliness and the pain of separation.
Colors of the Shadow Page 5