“You are almost a man, Yousep Kogen. Sometimes the world is not a safe place for a child, and we must accept, the shop neighborhood is such an unsafe place. You cannot be a child any longer, on your walk, at your work, or-” He paused to look carefully at his son, “or on your way home. We cannot keep you from your work, though our care for you makes us wish we could. A man’s responsibilities are yours now. Trust your heart, judge as you need, to stay safe.”
Yousep looked at the fright in his mother’s eyes, and held out his hand to her. She did not say anything; it was not her place, her son was no longer a child to them.
He had just been told he was a man.
He would soon have received his kippah and tallit, so near to his coming of age; she had been saving them since his mitzvah, waiting for the day of his confirmation at the synagogue. The confirmation would have to come the Sabbath; he had just taken his new place in the family.
Father said a simple prayer, that his son be given a man’s judgment and courage. That he be safe as he traveled in an unsafe place, God protect him.
Yousep said a silent prayer of his own; no dreams that night - fright, shame, and longing, did not belong together, in anyone’s dreams. But he did not know, he already was given his dream, the one he was to have that night, and would have every night as well. Yousep had been given his dream, to have forever, when he prayed for the rain to stop, and their eyes to meet. He would see those eyes, and their tears, every night when he closed his own.
He lay in bed, long after the house quieted to sleep. The street outside his widow was quiet as well. He lay in his bed, with a bit of moonlight in his eyes, and he thought about what happened to him that day on the walk.
Why did he fear she might rush into the street? She had not moved to do so. Why did she weep, why did it stir him the way it did? Of all the ‘whys’ he could ask himself, the one that stirred him in the strangest way, making him restless to the point of leaving his bed; why was she looking to see him, exactly the way he looked to see her? That ‘why’, she, and only she, could answer for him. When he left the window and returned to bed, it was to finally sleep, but begin the dream.
A surprised shop owner greeted his clerk at the door the next morning. Yousep wore his kippah. There was a hint of the tzitzit tassels on his tallit under his coat as he entered. Here, into Papa Reisman’s shop, walked Yousep Kogen the young man. It seemed a strange outcome to the sudden fright of the morning before, but the look in Yousep’s eyes indicated he understood the changes to be very important.
He walked directly to the counter, and apologized for behaving like a frightened child the day before. Papa simply offered his hand to his clerk and said it was unimportant, there was good work to do, and it was a blessing Yousep, the young man, felt better that day. Yousep knew he did not indeed feel better; but different - that was exactly how he felt.
He liked the dream he dreamed.
He did not awake in fear of it, there was nothing in it to fear; but aroused as before because it had been filled with golden hair, and gentle hands, and the shame this time, was put away. Yousep refused to be ashamed of this dream.
Either too frightened, or too wary, she did not appear at the top of the stair that day. Yousep looked out to see her more often than he usually did. He learned to take less time to do so, and became quite good at the appearance of never seeming to glance outside at all. His employer thought him back to health and fewer daydreams. Papa never would have suspected Yousep could become a crafty young man, so soon after leaving the frightened child behind.
Caraliza had not been a child for a very long time. She lost her childhood in thievery, torment, and anguish.
Yousep put away his childhood, suddenly, because it would not suit his new purpose.
There was a bit of sunlight at the back of the Reisman Portrait Studio for most of the afternoons, the beautiful little building had not filled its own lot, as so many new buildings did all around them. In fact, there remained a narrow grassy alley on both sides of the shop. The tenements on either side might menace it, but they did not touch the lovely little building. The alleys ran from the walk in front, straight to the back of the building.
The old family home to the rear had been built similarly, with some space for a garden, as a desired finish to the porch at the rear. The two buildings sat and shared that bit of earth, which was not put to any use for several years. Possibly, the family home would not last long, it looked to be in ill use even then; however, ill-use did not really mean a demolition would be immediate.
It was the yard for both that Yousep decided would need immediate attention. He always wondered why the studio had not been saved, by the mere solution of knocking some great new windows to the back of the building.
For the entire time he was employed, it had never been mentioned. The loss of the morning windows had been a sad event in the life of the shop, but why could afternoon windows not cheer them? He decided to find out - and brought it up before the shelves were completely dusted.
Suddenly, he and Papa Reisman locked the door, and were out in the back, standing at the little fence between the yards, watching to see how long before the sun would tap the back wall of the shop. It would not be long at all. In the winter, it would be even better. That tiny back porch was always first to clear of any snow.
Mr. Reisman looked at his own back wall, and did not recognize it; he never thought it useful. That day it was a different wall, and he praised Yousep the man, for seeing the use it could have. Yousep suggested a bit of a garden, the bricks on the buildings around were interesting enough for good photographs, but a garden would give it some life, and would make lovely portraits. A few roses perhaps; a small tree to start.
Papa was in a fit of sudden excitement.
His yard had not been ill-used, there was no trash to clear, no mess to haul. The weeds were never let to overgrow, because he and his son always kept them trim. Papa grasped his clerk’s hands and asked how such an inspiration could have come, when it passed the shopkeeper by for so many years? Yousep decided this truth would cause no harm, and might make up for some lack of itself later; he told Papa, he dreamed of the garden behind the shop, that very night before.
He had done some very exciting thinking and planning on his walk to work that morning. He knew the huge man who lived under the stoop across the street might possibly be dangerous, but he was not always at home. He must surely find occasional employment somehow; he was never idle on the stoop as the urchins had been. That meant, he was only a threat to Yousep’s plans when he was at home, in the basement under the walk.
It was also heart wrenching to see the girl, so taken with sadness, above that stair. Yousep would arrange nothing more dangerous than a bit of sun, and air, and conversation, a few mere yards from her very door.
If planned carefully, she might have some relief; if executed carefully, Yousep might not have trouble seeing her nearly every day. The shop wanted a garden to plant. She seemed badly in need of the air. Would Papa Reisman think it terrible if they planted and talked, and nothing more?
Yousep was sure it could be done. The first step was already accomplished; Papa accepted the garden as a wonderful idea. The next step only required Yousep to cross the street.
He did not wait long to try.
The next morning in fact, he changed his route down the shop street for the second time. He came directly to the basement stair and turned to cross to the shop from there. He did it as normally as he dared; it greatly excited him. Without looking back, he stepped from the curb the moment he heard a tiny squeak at the bottom near the door.
If it was the brute, no matter. Yousep was simply a shop clerk crossing the street. If it were the girl, she would understand, he would do this for her every morning until she felt safe to see him there. He would even make this his normal way of leaving the shop each night. There could be no harm come of this at all, he was certain.
It was not the brute at the bottom.
&nb
sp; She did understand very well. She crept again to the bottom of the rail and watched him walk bravely across to his shop. When he reached his door, he turned and their eyes met a second time. He smiled and disappeared, to do the happiest day’s work he had done in nearly a year.
Caraliza returned to her work and smiled as well, for the very first time in that kitchen. She did not know the time the shop closed. But, she knew it would be very dark before she must be in the kitchen cleaning. So she watched at every chance.
Twice that day, she caught his eye while he stood near the window. Both times, he smiled at her. She tried so very hard to catch him leaving the shop, but missed that evening. He even waited a moment or two to tie his shoe before he walked on disappointed. She was determined she would not cry, when she noticed the shop was dark and closed, the last time she stood outside her door. However, Yousep was not one to let such a disappointment happen again, merely because of chance.
The next morning’s walk, he whistled a tune, as he approached the curb across from the shop.
He only paused for a second to hear the door move again at the bottom. He whistled his merry way across the street and turned to smile at her. Her hand was up to her mouth, laughing - tearful - yet laughing. They danced with one another all day, across the street from each other. There were so many glances Caraliza felt dizzy from them. She even returned his smile, to get a wink as another gift.
Listening that evening, she caught the whistle as it approached her curb. She was at the door in an instant. When the whistle seemed about to turn she stepped outside and looked up to see Yousep again tying a loosened string on his shoe. They were close enough to speak. His eyes were brown. His smile was beautiful to her. He wore a small amusing hat on his head; it was entirely too small to be a hat, and she smiled at it. Yousep noticed her hair was as golden as the dream. It was too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but they were bright. She did not rise up a single step.
It was enough.
He stood with a smile, and turned to make his way home. She felt her heart race away with him as he walked.
They understood perfectly what was being asked of the other, watchfulness and great care; Caraliza was starving for the sight of him now. Great care would be very difficult to give to him. He might have to be careful for them both. Neither of them knew they were running out of time, the brute would finish his current employment in just a few days. Soon, it would be very dangerous for them both, to dance such a dance, at such a loving distance.
Constant, dirty, heavy work, tires even the largest of men, after several days of it. Barely able to stay awake to eat his dinner, the brute left Caraliza completely alone the entire week. He was hardly more generous with any food, but just a bit less attentive at his plate than usual. She snuck a bit of sausage or potato nearly every night.
Coming home to the basement, so late each evening, meant it was very late before any food was cooked. Yet, he said nothing to her about it. She could do no less than wait, and he was satisfied she was too frightened to do aught but wait. He would finish what he could stay awake to eat, she could have the rest, and he did not care. He wanted his bed.
She was thankful of the weariness he brought home, but he could surely use a bath; he reeked, and it made it difficult for her to sleep. She could not do without sleep. She worked harder each day, to afford so much time seeking a smile from the shop window. If she fell behind cleaning, there would be worse for her. The brute roused himself to more brutality than she dared remember, by much less than a poorly mopped floor. She did better than she could, so she could see the boy from the shop, just one time more each day.
The next morning it was cloudy, she was terrified it might rain and the brute come thundering back in a rage. Luckily, the clouds melted away and it was time to meet her fellow at the curb. She opened the door gently and looked out to find his smile right at the top. Yousep just stood there for a moment, then spoke.
It happened so suddenly it frightened her.
“Good morning. I’m Yousep,” he said, extending his hand very slightly. She must have been more surprised than she realized, his next words were a question; that much she could tell.
“Are you all right?” He took a precious step closer, concern on his face.
She put up her hand to stop him coming down, and merely stood in the shadow. She did not lose his gaze; she held his eyes, as she desired to hold his hands, refusing to let go, should once they ever touch. He paused and did not move, but he needed to turn and cross. She needed to let him cross. So she took one step up higher to see him, and smiled a very small smile for him.
“Ik spreek geen Engels,” she said softly.
She could hardly make the words. She did not know how long it had been she had no one to speak with, she said nothing to another person, for more than a year. Her smile faded as she saw something change in his eyes. There was something fearful there, similar to the first look she had seen on his face; the look that first drew her to see him again. He stood more directly up, and his hand dropped to his side. She instantly imagined he was unhappy, would lose his interest in her now, yet, as she watched him a second longer, understanding crossed his eyes and his mouth fell open, but he did not speak.
Yousep turned, just enough to make her fearful again, however, his smile came back and he puckered his lips to whistle his way across the street. Halfway across to his shop, his voice came back to her, such an extravagant risk to be taking. He spoke loudly enough she could hear, before he moved too far away, though she did not understand.
“You do not speak English. Oh my!”
Yousep trusted there was a solution to that problem, he just had not thought of it yet. He made sure to be in the window as often as he could, they were able to assure one another that smiling needed no translations. However, another predicament arose which he did not think he could solve quickly enough, how to make her understand, he would be needed in the back of the shop, nearly all day, very soon.
Papa Reisman had taken his window idea, and turned it into a desperate project he was near mad to have finished. It was going to be very hard to let her know he was only at the back, not missing, or worse, ignoring her. He found the answer to that by making sure she saw him going to the back through the alleys. That would be another difficulty; he had the use of a perfectly good back door for such a need.
“Mr. Reisman, I believe we should clear the alley, as there will likely be items too large to safely carry through the shop, and only back out the very narrow door when the windows begin to arrive.”
“Truly! Truly, that is a need. Can you find the time to do that, perhaps on both sides? One might be preferable to the other, we should know in advance.”
“Yes Sir. First chance I get Sir,” which turned out to be just a few minutes later.
She was at the stair looking for him.
He made a great show of walking out the front door slowly, studying the cameras in the window, pausing to look important for her, dusting the window. Then he walked to the side and slipped passed the corner into the alley. He was suddenly visible to no one but her as she watched. He waved to her a very small wave, then smiled his best smile, and did exactly as he told Papa he would. He studied the alleys to make sure they would be clear enough for the lumbers and the windows, and the large tools, which would be needed in the back for the studio.
She was still looking, or perhaps had come back quickly out of curiosity, but they were sharing their glance again on the other side of the building. This time Caraliza waved the small wave.
They arrived at the understanding, he might not always be visible in the window; something interesting was going to take him to the back.
She let the darkness of the stair close around her again as she opened her door to begin her chores. She realized, she could not consider their contact as play any longer. He was trying very hard to help her understand, he might not be every time waiting to see her. She thought it very kind. Nothing like that had been done for her
, by anyone, since she arrived at the basement. She did not even know where the basement was. No one bothered to tell her, which city became her terrible home.
That evening, after helping to close the shop as usual, Yousep walked to his curb and began to whistle his tune. Papa’s habit was to remain a few minutes behind, and he would leave when Yousep was quite a way already down the street. Strangely, that evening he was as at his clerk’s elbow, with a smile, and warming a conversation on his lips.
Yousep was a bit annoyed. It must have shown on his face. Papa only very quickly told him the work on the windows would take place the following week, there was some delay fixing the leaks in the building where the workers were currently employed. Those men would come to tear out the new windows in three or four days time. With that said, Papa suddenly remembered a bundle of papers he needed to carry home to read, and hurried back into the shop before Yousep could even reply to the news.
Relieved, Yousep quickly took up his tune with a bit of gusto, and walked briskly across to the other side of the street. Caraliza was anxiously half way up the stairs; she watched for him. He did not pause to tie his lace, or to bend and speak again, but the look on his face was one of pure joy. He was so very happy to see her and it must have made her blush. His next movement was confusing to her, she could not see what he had done, but it seemed he bent to touch the walk, and then just turned to continue home, his tune was done. She was dangerously curious to know what diverted his attention.
Caraliza Page 4