A Kind of Woman

by Helen Burko

  Jacob wanted to answer, but Fabian intruded. “I know what you will answer. Man must rise above all evil! What the Nazis did can only happen once in a thousand years.”

  “You are right. That’s what I intended to say.”

  “Yes, I know!” raged the would-be poet. “Don’t you think there were sensitive people among the Nazis? They loved their children, their wives, and their pet animals. What does it mean? You’re a lawyer and have studied psychology; tell me how it’s possible. Can you tell me what the poets among the Nazis thought? Can you tell me what the meaning of art is? Has art changed anything in the world?”

  “Your opinions resemble mine.” Jacob smiled.

  Some people, worn out, ragged, and pale, came into the office, and the conversation between Jacob and the clerk had to stop.

  “I’ll be happy to see you tomorrow under the chuppah with your bride,” the clerk said. “I envy you, too. You still have faith.”

  “I hope that you, too, will renew your faith.” Jacob shook the clerk’s hand. “And I hope also that you will someday write to praise and glorify the…”

  “God forbid! There is no one and nothing to write for!”

  “Write about us!” one of the refugees who came in said.

  “Better that he should write us a permit for some clothes and food!” said another. “All that writing is worth nothing. What good are books if I don’t know what to do, how and why I live?”

  The clerk and Jacob exchanged looks. They understood each other without words.

  When Rachel saw the dress Jacob had succeeded in finding after a long search in the market, she burst out laughing. “At least I’ll be a real bride!” And she put it on at once.

  “That was my purpose!” Jacob laughed. “I didn’t want to shame our wedding day. I believe I’m your first husband, and you should feel like a real bride. It took me so long, and it was so difficult to find this dress and veil, but it was worth it.”

  “I’m very grateful,” Rachel said sincerely and hugged him.

  “You’re a wild one.” He laughed.

  “Oh, say that again… It’s been so long since I’ve heard that.”

  “Wild one! What happened then? Were you married once?”

  She didn’t answer him and just stayed in his arms with her eyes closed. It seemed to him that, once again, she was in another world. He broke away from her and, going over to the sofa, lit a cigarette.

  “Oh, liebling.” She hurried over to him and sat on his knees. “You’re suspicious again. l didn’t mean anything. I was thinking of my childhood! I dreamed then of a moment like this, when I would be a bride! Why are you so jealous?”

  “Forgive me, Rachel!” And he held her in his arms again.

  The sun had set hours ago, and silence seeped into the room. An ideal kind of dim light embraced the house. The birds were also quiet, and just the cuckoo in the forest called to his mate when the car came to take them to Warsaw.

  Marta had returned to wish them luck and, for a long time, watched the car that was taking them away until it disappeared among the trees and into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  In the office of the Jewish committee, everything was ready for the wedding party. Survivors of the camps and refugees from the bunkers were sitting or lying on their bundles, sleeping or arguing about world politics and whether there could be another world war or not.

  It was a hot summer day, and the homeless in Warsaw spent the night outside near the office so they could come early and receive the necessary help to travel on.

  There were many happy encounters. Friends met here, and strangers became friends.

  The clerk, Fabian, was running around arranging everything and was as happy as though Jacob were his brother or a childhood friend.

  “Who’s getting married?” one of the refugees asked.

  “Probably two miserable people,” joked another.

  “Of course! They have to get busy and have more children so there’ll be someone to butcher!” mocked a curly-haired young man.

  “The first wedding after the war,” sighed a wan-looking young woman who had a number tattooed on her arm.

  “We’ll show them! They tried to sterilize all of us,” said another.

  “So where’s the young couple?” said another, rising up from his bundles. “Look, a wedding without a bride and groom!”

  “Don’t worry! The main thing is to put up the posts and the chuppah. The couple will appear. Ahh, how long it has been since I have seen a wedding. Hard to believe the weddings we had once!”

  “Look how the clerk is running around!”

  “He is probably a relative of the bride or the groom!”

  “He’s a good man and does everything he can for the refugees.”

  “Why should he be cruel to them? They’ve suffered enough!”

  “So what? The war has turned many people into wild animals. I saw that in Mauthausen.”

  “No wonder! Everyone tried to save himself.”

  “At the expense of his brother!”

  “Sometimes they forced us to do just that!”

  “A good man preferred to die rather than harm his friend.”

  “I remember one professor—the SS tried to force him to whip a young man. He refused, and so he was beaten until he died.”

  “Not everyone is able to act like the professor.”

  “Yes, that’s the trouble!”

  “Quiet! Stop the chattering! Look, they’re here!”

  All of them at once stopped their conversations and crowded around the chuppah, while four of them held the posts. Bare bulbs dangled from the ceiling and lit up the gray walls.

  Jacob and Rachel got out of the car, and as they passed through the yard, people followed them to see the first bride and groom since the war. They crowded into the office and around the chuppah. Some of them had been given candles to light and hold, and this added a feeling of ritual to the ceremony.

  “Look how beautiful they are!”

  “Look how glowing the bride is…like a fairy-tale bride!”

  “What about the groom? Tall, strong, and handsome! They both look as if they hadn’t suffered through a war.”

  “If the Nazis could see them, they’d explode!”

  The men couldn’t stop exclaiming over the beauty of the bride and crowded around closer to see her. She even wore a piece of white tulle for a veil, which Jacob had also found after tiresome searching because he wanted Rachel to feel like a real bride.

  The women almost fought among themselves to be a maid of honor, and it wasn’t easy to find one, for the maid of honor and the best man had to be a couple according to tradition.

  “Where can you find a couple? Hitler, may his name be wiped out, separated all of us! And he did it without a divorce!”

  With difficulty, two couples were found. They had hidden in the forest during the war.

  The rabbi with the short beard, which made him look like a young university professor, appeared under the chuppah holding a glass of wine. Then the men, according to custom, led Jacob up to the chuppah, and women, holding lit candles, led Rachel up to the chuppah. She was conspicuous in her white gown.

  No one noticed the green glints that danced in Rachel’s eyes, and no one saw how she glanced around fearfully and endeavored to keep her face hidden under the veil.

  The rabbi’s voice rang out forcefully and clearly as he performed the ceremony. The faces of the people were grim, and the women wiped away their tears.

  When the rabbi gave her the wine to drink, Rachel lifted her veil a little and her lips only touched the glass. No one could see the faint smile that was on her lips.

  After the groom crushed the wine glass, as was customary, a spontaneous “mazel tov” echoed through the room. The bride and groom kissed, and then Fabian kissed them both warmly.

  No one knew that Fabian had prepared cakes and wine so that toasts could be drunk.

  Jacob was sure the ceremony, which had
been painful for him and was the second time he had experienced it, was over and they could go back to Otvotsk, but the party had just begun.

  He was very unhappy about the surprise Fabian had prepared for them. Rachel was ready for some entertainment and drank the wine, together with the other poor souls who were thirsty for a little bit of joy.

  “It’s good to raise a glass at a time like this!” The good-natured Fabian laughed. “Our fathers used to say, ‘You only get married once in your lifetime’!”

  They were seated at the head of the table, and Rachel lifted her veil to drink the wine. Now the people were even more astounded at her beauty.

  “Look at her,” a young man said. “She doesn’t look Jewish at all!”

  “I could swear she’s a Christian,” said a man in a tattered jacket.

  “Stop the babble!” said a man in a long ragged coat that was several sizes too big for him.

  “She probably passed herself off as an Aryan.”

  The crowd continued to guess.

  “With a face like that, she could have survived any danger,” said the woman with the tattooed numbers on her arm.

  “Nonsense! There were many Aryan-looking girls who were killed.”

  “Enough! Stop the chatter, friends!” said the young man. “I hope I have the same luck as this groom! And now, a toast to the bride and groom! L’chaim! L’chaim!”

  “L’chaim! L’chaim!”

  “To the young couple!”

  “To the survivors!”

  They raised their glasses and were merry, and there was nothing to curb their happiness. Everyone wanted to get drunk and forget reality. Some of them even began to dance. Suddenly there appeared a short man with a sensitive face who was wearing a crushed hat. His black eyes blazed, and his hands trembled as he opened his gray sack. Those present watched him intently.

  “Wait! Wait a minute!” he whispered. “In a moment you’ll rejoice!”

  From between the rags in his sack, he took out an old case, and everyone realized he was a musician.

  “This violin has been everywhere with me!” he said as he took out the instrument and began to play. Melancholy strains filled the air and aroused hidden memories.

  “Freilach! Merry tunes!” they called and, hands on hips, were ready to dance. The musician obliged and played the rhythmical tunes of the Jewish Klezmer, and the gaiety soared. No artist could ever paint such an unforgettable picture with all its various, subtle hues.

  People, whose faces were wrinkled and worn, who wore rags, now danced gleefully with laughing eyes. The violin worked wonders. The short musician seemed to grow in the eyes of all, and standing there, with his sack and open case, he weaved a spell with his music.

  “Bring the young couple!” yelled someone, and everyone took it up. “The young couple… Bring them here!”

  All at once, Jacob and Rachel found themselves in the center of a ring of people holding hands. At first, Jacob felt as if he had been thrown from a rooftop, but Fabian and the rabbi held Jacob’s and Rachel’s hands and the four of them began to dance and soon forgot themselves.

  In this way, their quiet wedding turned into an explosion of pent-up feelings, a way to let joy overflow in the middle of a gray daily existence.

  No one noticed that the night was slowly passing and the dawn was beginning to light up their bundles, forgotten in the corner of the yard. Everyone was caught up in the ecstasy of the first moment of joy after so many years of fear and suffering.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They returned from the wedding in the first light of morning. They opened the door with their key, but Marta was already awake, busy in the kitchen and talking to someone. They were sure Marta was, as usual, having a conversation with Kitzie, the cat, but they wondered why she was up so early. The cat ran toward them as soon as he heard the key in the lock.

  “Mazel tov, Kitzie!” Rachel called out the words she had heard all evening. She was in a laughing mood, and she caught up the cat and kissed him.

  “Mazel tov, Kitzie!” she repeated. “Come on, Kitzie. Tell us mazel tov!”

  “Meow! Meow!” The cat called out, and Rachel almost jumped with joy and laughed.

  “Did you hear, my dear husband, how Kitzie tells us mazel tov? Did you hear?”

  “Congratulations and my wishes for a good life,” said Marta sweetly as she hurried toward them. “That’s life. From marriage and death, no man will escape!”

  Jacob was sure Marta would finish her speech with the usual phrases: “Man has sinned, but Jesus will forgive us all our sins as our Lord is compassionate and forgiving.”

  He smiled when she did add the usual phrases.

  “Is someone in the kitchen?” he asked when he heard noises coming out of there.

  Marta was confused for a moment, but she recovered quickly and explained. “Yes, my son. He finally came to visit me.”

  “Your son!” they exclaimed, and both of them hurried to the kitchen. “We want to meet him! Such an important visitor!”

  Rachel recognized him immediately as the young man in the photograph. He was tall, blond, and handsome and didn’t resemble his mother except for her green eyes and pert nose. He rose when they entered and introduced himself politely. “Watzek Olshanska.”

  Watzek avoided entering into a conversation with them. He finished eating and prepared to leave.

  “How is it that a son visits his mother so seldom?” Rachel attacked him because she wanted so badly to talk to him, but Watzek eluded her with a short, indefinite answer.

  “There’s no time. I have to work.”

  She tried again. “For a mother, there should always be time!”

  “Right, but…” He acted like a boy as he looked at the window where the light was becoming stronger. He kissed his mother and parted quickly from them. Marta walked with him out the door, murmuring a prayer, and stood with him in the trees for a few more minutes. She remained there and watched him until he disappeared. Then she too disappeared into her room.

  “A strange young man!” commented Jacob to Rachel as they went to their room.

  “An excellent young man and so handsome!”

  “I had the impression all was not well with him.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Perhaps he’s hiding from the police.”

  “Why should he?”

  “Well, you noticed that in all the time we’ve been here, he hasn’t come to visit, and now he came only when he was sure we wouldn’t be here. His answers were so nebulous, and he left when morning came. All that doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “I don’t believe it. He was polite, handsome, and manly. In addition, he seemed full of energy and self-confidence. If he had done something wrong, the police would have been searching for him here.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but how is it possible a son would leave a mother who owns such a large home and live who knows where. Maybe he’s a member of the Polish Underground?”

  “What is that?” she asked, although she knew perfectly well what it was as she was very well versed in politics.

  “It’s a Polish fascist group that wants to topple the present government, and they hide out in the forest.”

  “So…” she said with pretended indifference and changed the subject. “Oh, I’m so tired!”

  She took off her wedding dress, threw it on the back of the armchair, sunk half-naked into the armchair, and sat there with closed eyes.

  “I’m tired too,” Jacob said with mixed feelings. They both sat there quietly and didn’t know what to do with themselves. He wasn’t only tired, but also depressed. Some sort of anxiety—he didn’t know what—suddenly enveloped him. Only then, after the wedding, he experienced an intense emptiness. He felt like a man who has been thrown out of the driver’s seat during an accident and has to stand up on his feet again, get back behind the wheel, and drive the car to the nearest garage.

  He was sure she was undergoing a similar experience. Rachel wa
s sitting languidly with her head on the arm of the chair and looked as though she were asleep. To relieve both of them, he muttered almost to himself, with a false grin, “Well, we should go to bed. After all, it is our wedding night.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned down the bed.

  “It’s morning already,” she said without lifting her head.

  “In my eyes, it’s still night…our wedding night.”

  “Our wedding night!” She lifted her head and laughed. “Take off my shoes and put me to bed. I’m so tired.”

  He came and stood before her as if he were looking at a statue he had seen many times but never failed to look at with wonder. She gave him a warm, meaningful glance. He stooped and slowly removed her shoes and then her brassiere, then he lifted her in his arms and set her down on the bed.

  “Now you are legally my wife…” He laughed a little artificially. “…and you have to obey me and carry out all my orders, you hear me?”

  She lay quietly, half-nude, with her eyes closed, and when she felt he was undressing her, she escaped in her imagination to another wedding night. Like in a film, she saw that other night, when she had been only sixteen, still a student but well developed like a girl of twenty, healthy, beautiful, and temperamental. She remembered how she had given herself to him, without inhibitions, just as she had jumped from the window of the train. She had always been fearless and impulsive, but she would never forget that night! Her parents hadn’t been at home when he appeared at eleven o’clock at night. Her sisters and brothers were asleep, and she was standing before a mirror and combing her hair. He burst into the house with such force that he frightened her, but that’s the way he was—wild and temperamental. Only when she told him he was too wanton did he calm down, although he remained tense.

  “Shh! The children are sleeping,” she warned him.

  “And where are your father and mother?”

  “They went away, and they’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

  “Wonderful!” He came near her and kissed her fervently. The kiss burned her lips. She loved him and his unrestrained temper and erotic manner. He was twenty and a man in the full sense of the word. When he saw that she didn’t resist, he kissed her passionately and pressed her to him. A current passed through her young, virginal body, and she felt as full of desire as he did. She recovered only when she found herself on the sofa and he was undressing her.