by Helen Burko
“You want to write a book about pacifism and who knows what else, and it’s all the same to me if you write the book or not, but it won’t change anything. There’s no end of books written on that subject, the problems of the world. Your book will be just another one of those. I don’t know what you think you can bring that will be new in that Mein Kampf of yours.”
“Don’t you understand, Rachel? My book will be completely different! It’ll be a Mein Kampf in opposition to the Mein Kampf of that lunatic.”
“How foolish you are,” she said as she stroked his face and, as usual, burst into mischievous laughter.
The wall that stood between Jacob and Rachel, instead of diminishing, increased from day to day. In the last few weeks, Rachel had become sadder and more wistful, although she made an effort to hide it. Her artificial laughter and her pensive silences gave the impression of a caged bird. She quickly accustomed herself to all the luxuries Jacob piled on her. Even the new car he bought her didn’t make her cheerful.
Jacob didn’t inquire about the cause of her unhappiness because he knew she didn’t like to be questioned. He went out with her frequently—to the theater, the opera, the cinema, bars, and other places of entertainment.
If she had a child, he reasoned, she wouldn’t be so sad and she would forget all the years of the war that have produced in her such strangeness. It would also make my parents happy.
Once, as they lay in bed after a night out, Jacob told her jokingly, “You need to have a child, Rachel. You promised to give me a lot of children.”
“Not even one!” she retorted. “I don’t want children…not now!”
“When will we have them if not now?” he asked gently. “When we’re old?”
“We’re young yet! Not now! Not yet!”
“Why not?”
“Just because! Not now!”
“Do you long for Russia? For your motherland?” He tried to probe and find the reason.
“Yes, I long for it.”
“Do you regret coming here with me?”
“Yes, I regret it.”
“You can go back if you wish.”
“Oh, no, not that! I can’t go anyplace yet. Maybe one day I’ll be able to go back.”
“And that’s why you don’t want children?”
“Yes, that’s why.”
Jacob didn’t continue to interrogate her. He knew that if he did, they would probably have an argument and it would all end in an unpleasant scene.
Something similar had transpired between them a few weeks earlier. That was when he suggested they invite his parents and his friends and celebrate with a little party. He wanted to show his parents and friends how talented she was and how well she sang and danced and played the piano he bought for her.
“No! No! No! I’m not an actress, and I don’t want to put on a show for your parents and friends, neither of which I care for.”
“Do you hate my parents and friends?” he asked, stunned.
“I don’t like it when they begin to question me about my past and my parents!” she shouted. “They won’t leave me alone! What did my parents do? Who were they? How many children were there? Were they communists? What did I do in the concentration camps? Did I see them burn the people or did I see the gas chambers and a hundred other foolish questions. Don’t you understand how unpleasant it is for me?”
“What harm is there in those questions?” he reproached her angrily. “My parents love you, and so they want to know all about you. If I came with you to your parents, they would want to know all about me, too!”
“How foolish you are.” She laughed sarcastically. “My parents wouldn’t want to even meet you!”
“Why not?” He couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and he pounded his fist on the table where they were sitting and having dinner. “Why wouldn’t they want to meet me? Am I not good enough for them?”
“Maybe not!” she yelled at him. “Maybe not! Maybe not!”
She was going out of her mind. Her eyes turned green and shot out sparks. She was breathing heavily. She looked like a tiger that had just been released from captivity. She grabbed dishes from the table and smashed them on the floor. Her hair was all over her flushed and angry face.
“God damn it!” she shrieked. “I don’t want to be harassed with questions! I don’t want to visit your parents, and I don’t want to have to bear your friends!”
Jacob was appalled. He had never seen Rachel so angry, but he decided to curb his own anger until she calmed down. He went into the living room, lay down on the couch, and smoked a cigarette. Thoughts raced through his mind. He endeavored to find the reason for the sadness and anger, until he reached the same conclusion. She wasn’t to blame; she had suffered too much. She had fled from her parents, and now she longed for them and her home. He would probably have been sad if he had remained with her in Russia.
That night, Jacob didn’t sleep at all and couldn’t stop contemplating what happened. He heard her going into the bedroom. He was sure she would come to him and apologize for her behavior. When half the night had passed and she didn’t appear, he went to the bedroom and said with a forced smile, “If Muhammed doesn’t come to the mountain, the mountain comes to him. Well, do you feel better now?”
She lay there, fully dressed with her face turned away, and didn’t move. He was sure she wasn’t asleep and that she was sorry she had made a scene. Unintentionally, the incident with the Russian officer came to mind; he didn’t know why.
“Time to go to bed, Rachel!” He touched her gently on her shoulder. “Okay, I won’t force you to visit my parents or meet my friends. I’ll leave you to your sadness and longings. I understand.”
“No, you don’t understand, and you’ll never understand me! If you don’t want me to leave you, then don’t take me to visit your parents or your friends!”
“Agreed!” In his mind, he was sure in time she would feel differently and seek his parents’ friendship and want to meet his friends. Time was the great healer.
Thanks to his restraint and patience, peace was restored between them. They went out together, to theaters and the cinema, and took trips in their luxurious car. No one knew why Jacob had stopped bringing Rachel to visit his parents and his friends and why he didn’t invite anyone to visit them. He apologized to his parents and said that she was still new here and, like all the other new immigrants, had to acclimate herself first. He also warned his parents not to question her if she did come, because that reminded her of her home and aroused the feelings of loneliness and longing for her former surroundings, where she had spent her childhood and her youth.
His parents understood and avoided visiting him or calling and asking her to visit them. They decided to be patient until she got over those feelings, and then she would put down new roots and feel at home.
For this reason, both Jacob and his parents hoped Rachel would have a child. Every time he brought the subject up, however, she had only one answer. “Not now! Not now, my dear.”
In this also, Jacob yielded. When he remembered the scene she had made and her strange behavior, he waited patiently until she changed her mind, certain that she would. It would take time for her to forget her home, but when she did, everything would be fine.
During the evenings they spent at home, Rachel would sit and play the piano. At times like this, she would have impulses that were so familiar to Jacob. She would suddenly burst out singing or put on the radio and dance wildly, dragging him into the dance. They would continue until they tired and flopped down on the sofa.
Then they would kiss and embrace for a long time. This was an entirely different Rachel, who clung to him and called out, “Kiss me, darling…passionately… Like this!”
And he would cover her with kisses. She would throw off her clothes and enjoy his unlimited passion. She would also return his love with uninhibited desire. She would bite his lower lip until he cried out in pain.
“Stop it, you wanton… You’re ruining my li
p!”
“Tell me, do you need anybody but me? Tell me, Jacob!”
“I don’t need anybody but you,” he would laugh. “But there’s a whole world out there and a whole human society.”
“Human society!” she jeered at him. “You talk about them so much that it’s becoming a cliché. I’m sick of hearing about them!”
Jacob didn’t answer. He would let time solve the riddle called Rachel, who was now his wife.
It wasn’t long before the riddle was solved in an unusual and astonishing way. No one—not him, not his parents, not his friends—had ever considered such a solution.
It happened on a fall evening. It was an evening like all other evenings, but for Jacob, his parents, his friends, and especially for Rachel, it was a fatal evening that only blind fate could have devised.
It was a Saturday, and Eddie had called and suggested they all go to the theater together to see “Romeo and Juliet.”
Jacob knew Rachel would go because she liked the classical plays. Jacob’s father had told him that his mother wasn’t feeling well, so he decided to let Rachel go alone to the theater with Eddie and Leonora. She’d prefer that to going with him to visit his mother.
Eddie had the tickets, and he came with Leonora to pick Rachel up. Jacob wished them a good performance and drove out to Brooklyn.
All the way to the theater, Leonora chattered and asked how Rachel felt in America and whether she received any letters from her family. Rachel gave her evasive answers.
“I’m afraid to write to them,” she said. “Every letter from America can endanger their lives, involve them with an imperialistic country so that they could be accused of spying.”
This was the same answer she always gave to Jacob when he asked why she didn’t try to communicate with her parents. He wanted to send them parcels of food, but Rachel used this excuse against that, too.
When he insisted, she sent some letters and even a package, but some of the letters were returned with a stamp saying no one of that name lived there.
“That’s it! Who knows if they’re still alive,” she said to her husband with the pretense of being discouraged.
“Do you miss your homeland?” asked Leonora, trying to take a friendly interest.
“Yes, I do,” Rachel said wistfully. “I really miss it.”
“In time, you’ll get used to living here. Everyone who immigrates here misses their homes at first but, after a while, they say that they wouldn’t live anywhere else. Our country is a free country, and that’s what people want.”
“Freedom is a relative term,” Rachel answered coldly. “What is freedom for one person may be slavery for another.”
“Freedom is freedom!” Eddie interceded while driving. “You should come to court sometime during a trial. Tell Jacob to bring you to a trial. Come and watch, and you’ll see for yourself what freedom means.”
“What’s different here than in other countries?” Rachel wondered. “Prison is the same everywhere and has barred windows and locked doors.”
“That isn’t the main thing,” Eddie continued. “Instead of trying to explain it in words, come to the courtroom with Jacob or to one of our prisons. A visit there should really open your eyes!”
Not Eddie, not Leonora, not Jacob—not even Rachel—could ever have imagined that very soon, Rachel would have an opportunity to visit one of the prisons, and that they all would soon be present and part of one of the most tempestuous trials during the period following World War II. It was a trial that shocked the people, not only of America, but of all the world.
They arrived at the theater almost at the last minute before the curtain went up. They took their places among the crowd of elegantly dressed cheerful people.
Among all these people, Rachel attracted attention with her beauty and her fine figure. The men, especially, stared. Leonora pointed this out to Rachel and laughingly complimented her in a friendly way.
“The men can’t take their eyes off you, Rachel. Jacob better watch out!”
“Oh, men!” Rachel said as she glanced at Eddie, who was sitting there so proud to be the escort of two such beautiful women.
The lights in the auditorium were extinguished, and the curtain was raised on a rich, palatial scene.
They sat spellbound during the first act and forgot all their daily irritations as they watched the pathetic love of the two young people.
As they went out to the bar during intermission, Eddie smiled and said, “The truth is that this drama is eternal. It happens in every generation in a somewhat different form and manner, and that’s why this play is always a success. It never goes out of fashion.”
It was difficult for Eddie to push his way to the bar while holding on to the two women, so he left them and went ahead to get their drinks.
“Hello, Eddie!” He heard a familiar voice behind him.
He turned his head and saw a friend, Richard Waite, a young lawyer who once worked with him. He stopped and chatted with Richard awhile and lost sight of the women, so he excused himself and began to search for them. Caught in the crowd, he suddenly heard a woman scream, and noise and confusion followed. People began to push and pull in different directions. Now a few women were screaming, and he thought he could see the heads of Leonora and Rachel, but before he could push his way through the packed crowd, he heard someone shout, “Police! Police!”
Eddie was sure someone had caught a pickpocket in the act, but at that moment he heard his wife’s voice yelling, “Eddie! Eddie! Help! Help!”
Most of the crowd had succeeded in distancing themselves from the women, but they kept watching the action, and the noise was deafening. Eddie finally pushed his way through the ring of people and saw a terrible sight.
Rachel was standing, pale as death, her dress torn and her hair disheveled, while an aristocratic-looking woman with a concentration camp number stamped on her bare arm wouldn’t let go of Rachel’s dress and kept screaming, “Police! Bring the police! I know her! It’s her!”
A man of about forty tried to hit Rachel, but Leonora defended her. A few photographers present at the performance smelled a scandal and began to photograph the scene.
Eddie couldn’t understand what was happening.
“What is this, Leonora?” he shouted and hurried to them. Leonora was shaking so badly that she couldn’t get the words out.
When Rachel saw Eddie, she recovered a little, pushed the woman away again, and tried again to move away. While trying to get through the ring of curious spectators, the woman with the number on her arm caught her again. The man who had tried to hit Rachel came to help the woman, but he was stopped by people who didn’t know what was going on. The woman screamed, “You won’t get away! I won’t let you get away!”
Eddie and Leonora went to help Rachel and explain that it was all a case of mistaken identity. Richard, shocked at the spectacle, also went to help them.
The pandemonium was so great that no one heard the bell ring for the second act, and when the curtain rose, it was to an empty hall. The “scene” out in the lobby was far more interesting.
When the spectators finally understood what was happening and why the woman with the numbers on her arm had torn Rachel’s dress, embarrassed smiles appeared on their faces, but some pale-faced men and women, whose faces still bore marks of the war, pushed through the crowd and came closer to Rachel, who stood like a frightened animal. Some bare skin covered with scratches made by the woman’s nails could be seen through the tears in her dress.
“I recognized her immediately!” shouted the woman. “I remember her from Majdanek! A member of the SS she was!”
“Bring her to the police station!” someone yelled.
At the last moment, when some of the pale-faced men and women began to threaten Rachel, the police finally appeared.
The crowd had to make way for the police, who probably saved Rachel from being torn apart. They surrounded her and took her out. With them went the man and woman who had attacked
Rachel, Eddie, Leonora, and Richard.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What happened?” Leonora continued to sigh and exclaim because she hadn’t yet realized what this was all about. “Who is Rachel?” she asked her husband.
But Eddie just shrugged and answered, “I’m just as confused as you are. We have to call Jacob and tell him to come quickly and see what’s happening here!”
Eddie’s friend Richard came with them and kept asking questions. “What happened? Who is that woman?”
“I don’t know. She’s Jacob Barder’s wife!”
“That woman with the numbers on her arm said she recognized her as someone who worked for the SS!” said Leonora.
“One of the SS?” repeated an astonished Richard.
“Yes, a Nazi!” added Leonora.
“Where did Jacob find her?”
“But we’re not sure yet that it’s the truth!” Eddie tried to object. “As far as we know, she’s Jewish!”
The newspaper photographers followed them and took pictures of Rachel from every angle.
The police put Rachel into a car. They also put the man and woman from the camps in another car. Eddie and Leonora took Richard with them to their own car and followed the police cars.
By this time, more reporters and photographers had appeared like magic. They were avid for a story that would make headlines. They also followed the police cars.
Eddie stopped in front of the station. He asked Richard to take Leonora home. After they left, he called Jacob’s parents from a public phone in the station. Luckily, Jacob answered the phone.
“Hello, Jacob. It’s Eddie.”
“Eddie! The play is over already?”
“No… No, it isn’t over. Listen…”
“Where are you calling from? Where is Rachel?”
“How is your mother?”
“She’s better; it was just a headache. Where’s Rachel? Why are you calling in the middle of the performance? Doesn’t Rachel feel well? Is she all right?”
“No, she’s fine. Come to the police station as soon as possible; don’t say anything to your parents. I have to talk to you—it’s urgent! Don’t ask any more questions, just come!”