A Kind of Woman

by Helen Burko

  Jacob felt his hand holding the telephone receiver trembling. He had a sense of foreboding.

  When Jacob had arrived at his parents’ house, he explained to them, and to the old friends of the family who were visiting them, that he and Rachel had been invited to go to a play with Eddie and Leonora but he sent Rachel to go with Eddie and his wife, not wanting to spoil her pleasure, and he had come to visit his parents. His parents understood, but they weren’t pleased that Rachel came so seldom to visit them, and when she did come, she was so strange—not like the first time when Jacob had introduced her.

  Of course, Jacob didn’t tell his parents that Rachel didn’t like them or his friends. They could discern it with that special sense that parents seem to have and knew that not all was going smoothly for Rachel and Jacob. They blamed it on the fact that she was new there.

  When Eddie called, Jacob, once again, had been relating incidents to his parents and their friends Mr. and Mrs. Benny Silverman.

  The telephone was located in the next room, so nobody heard the conversation, and Jacob, who behaved as if this were his home too, answered the phone.

  “Was it for you, Jacob?” his mother asked.

  “Yes, Mom, for me. Some family called me, on Eddie’s recommendation, and said that their son is in trouble; he was arrested.”

  “For what?” his mother asked.

  But Sam answered instead of Jacob. “In times like these, you have to ask for what? Don’t we have enough crimes in America today?”

  “In the whole world!” the Silvermans joined in.

  “We have to have crimes so we can have trials and lawyers!” joked his father.

  “I’d prefer my son not to be a lawyer and no trials,” stated Marie. ”Not a day goes by without crimes and trials.”

  “What’s the use of the trials?” said Jacob with a sigh. “The trials don’t stop the crimes!”

  Without paying attention to the compliments the Silvermans were heaping on the Barders for having such a smart, courageous, and successful son, Jacob hurriedly took his leave, got into his car, and drove to the police station.

  All the way there, he wracked his brain to imagine what could have happened. So many of the unanswered questions made him uneasy. Why did Eddie leave the performance before it was over? And why were they at a police station all of a sudden? Why didn’t Rachel call from the theater even if she felt bad? Maybe something had happened between Eddie and Rachel and Rachel had left the theater? Or maybe it was something between Rachel and Leonora?

  He had no answers to all those questions, and in his anxiety, he was speeding. When he realized it, he slowed down, as he didn’t want to cause an accident. On one of the streets, the traffic was blocked, and he became even more impatient. Like thousands of other drivers, he had to stop the car and wait until the way was cleared.

  A nervous driver in back of him turned his radio on, and so did Jacob. He was surprised to hear the following item on the news.

  “The performance of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ at the Barrymore Theater was halted after the first act by the arrest of a former SS member. She was recognized by a former prisoner of the Majdanek concentration camp. A number of former concentration camp prisoners tried to attack her and punish her right on the spot, but the police came in time to save her.”

  The announcement startled Jacob.

  Is that why they came home early? But what did that have to do with Rachel? Maybe she was hurt in the melee? Eddie said she was fine… But Jacob had a feeling of dread.

  Jacob was troubled, and different suppositions kept running through his brain. Maybe he hadn’t caught everything the announcer said, and he tried to find some information on another station.

  Finally, the road cleared, and Jacob reached the police station, which wasn’t far from his own apartment.

  “What happened? Where is Rachel? Where is she?” he asked, alarmed.

  “She’s under arrest,” Eddie told him.

  “What! My God! That was her then? Her?” He held his head.

  “You really didn’t know your wife was German and also was once a member of the SS or something like that?” asked Eddie. “How could you have married such a creature?”

  Jacob was stunned to hear the questions that were raining down on him like heavy blows. “Don’t ask me questions like that. Have pity. I just heard it on the radio. Is it true? Tell me what happened, quickly!”

  “Just be patient and we’ll tell you everything just as it happened. It’s difficult to express it in words.”

  Jacob didn’t hear him. He looked as though he had received a shock stronger than that of an electric current. He was so pale; his eyes looked blurred. It was hard for him to believe what happened.

  “Grab a cigarette and listen! The fact is that your wife has been arrested. If it’s a case of mistaken identity, they’ll let her go home.”

  “But tell me how it happened!” shouted Jacob. “Who’s the woman who accused her and said she recognized her?”

  “You’ll have to ask her. What do I know? You’ll probably read about it tomorrow in the newspaper. It will certainly make an interesting trial.”

  “To hell with your trials!” yelled Jacob, astounded by Eddie’s attitude. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding here!”

  “So you’re convinced your wife wasn’t a member of the SS?”

  “I don’t believe it!” Jacob said, a little more quietly now. “In any case, I didn’t know her as a member of the SS. I met her in Russia. She was one of the displaced persons. But, please, tell me what happened at the theater?”

  “I didn’t see the beginning,” Eddie confessed. “I was talking to a friend, and we suddenly heard Leonora shouting for help. When I finally found them, your wife was being attacked by a woman with a number from a concentration camp tattooed on her arm. Rachel’s dress was torn, and her hair was disheveled. It was a fearful sight.”

  “Was it the woman with the tattoo who tore her dress?”

  “Yes. You can’t see Rachel until tomorrow,” Eddie said.

  Eddie and Jacob went to Eddie’s apartment, and Leonora told Jacob what happened.

  “We went to the bar to drink a coke. Your wife was pensive, and it seemed to me she was absorbed in her memories. We were walking arm in arm; I asked her how she felt, and she replied that everything was so splendid. I was sure Eddie was right in back of us. Everybody turned to look at us, especially the men. Suddenly I noticed that a woman, about forty and very regal looking, had stopped and was staring at Rachel. After that, I saw that woman whispering something to a strong-looking man of about the same age. They came a few steps closer to us and just stood there staring at your wife and whispering. I thought it was just some people who were struck by your wife’s beauty, or maybe they knew her from someplace. Then I saw the number tattooed on the woman’s arm, and I remembered you telling us that your wife had been in camp.

  “‘You see,’ I told Rachel, ‘that couple just can’t stop looking at you.’ She smiled and said, ‘I made an impression on them, I guess.’

  “‘I think they know you from someplace.’

  “The woman came over to us, and so did the man. I noticed they were both pale and very agitated. When the woman came closer, your wife said, ‘Come on, I’m thirsty.’

  “‘Wait a minute, they’re coming over to us,’ I said, and so she waited for them to approach.”

  “Did she look frightened when she saw the woman coming over to her?” Jacob asked.

  “Not at all! I could swear she remained indifferent and looked at the woman calmly. The woman, however, had paled and looked like death.”

  “And what happened after that?” Jacob urged. “Tell me.”

  Leonora put her hand on her heart as if to stop its furious beating. “After that…after that… It was so unexpected. The woman came up very close to Rachel, almost touching her, and the man followed close behind her. I saw a look of horror on their faces.

  “‘Do you recognize me?’
asked the woman in German.

  “Rachel smiled at her and said in English, ‘What do you want?’

  “And the woman answered her in German, ‘Don’t you understand what I want from you? Don’t you know your mother tongue?’

  “‘What does this woman want from me?’ Rachel turned to me. Before I could translate, the woman continued with trembling lips to the man beside her, ‘Look what an innocent act she’s putting on!’

  “I was startled. When I saw the look on your wife’s face, I understood she was just pretending. I remembered you told us Rachel spent time in a concentration camp in Germany, and so it wasn’t possible she didn’t understand what the woman was saying. The woman acted as if she had a score to settle with Rachel, and I thought maybe that was why Rachel was trying to evade her.

  “When your wife saw that the woman wouldn’t desist, she turned to me and said forcefully, ‘Who is this insolent woman? What does she want from me? I’ll call the police! Come, Leonora!’

  “Your wife’s fearless behavior confused the woman and her escort, and I was convinced an error had been made. Perhaps your wife resembled someone whom the woman was mistaking for Rachel and this was also the reason your wife didn’t want to answer her in German. So I turned to the woman and her escort and addressed them. ‘Dear people, it seems you have mistaken this lady for someone else. She is the wife of our good friend, and there’s no reason to harass her.’

  “I took Rachel’s arm, and we turned to go. Suddenly, the woman grabbed Rachel’s arm and, glancing in every direction as though she were expecting assistance from someone, began to shout. ‘No, she’s not leaving! She’s Mathilda! I recognized her immediately! Mathilda! Police! I won’t let go of her until the police come!’

  “And then she screamed for the police! I was frightened to death! I stood there, helpless, and I didn’t know what to do, so I called out to Eddie, but before Eddie could reach us, things began to happen. Rachel so forcibly pushed the woman away that she fell on the floor, and then Rachel tried to push her way through.”

  “Rachel tried to run away?” A bewildered Jacob stopped her. “Please, tell me all the details. I have to know everything before I talk to her.”

  “Yes, your wife tried to run away, several times, but the woman’s escort stopped her and dragged her back to the woman who, in the meantime, was on her feet again and had seized Rachel by her dress. Rachel began to struggle, and her dress was torn, and the woman’s fingernails scratched her. People laughed and someone even joked. ‘Two Juliets! But where is Romeo?’

  “The woman kept screaming, ‘Police! Bring the police! It’s her. I know it’s her! She was in Majdanek!’

  “Rachel was being held by the woman and the man, and when she saw Eddie, she tried to run away again. I was trying to defend her, and Eddie was asking what was going on, and some more people were trying to hit her, when the police finally came and took her away.”

  Jacob wanted to go to Rachel at once, but just then Eddie returned, looking harassed and troubled.

  “They wouldn’t give her bail!” said Eddie. “They’re afraid she may try to run away. I agreed to let the police take her to prison. It was better than leaving her overnight with the prostitute and the drunkards there in the station cell.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After many years, Jacob found himself again in the waiting room of one of the women’s prisons in New York while he waited for one of the wardens to bring Rachel.

  Nothing has changed since I was here last, he ruminated. The same careful search as he entered, the same gray room. He also speculated about Rachel while he waited for her to appear. She was his wife; he had married her with the formal necessary ceremony. They loved—or had loved—each other… But who was she? What happened? Was it really only a horrible mistake? She could be coming in soon. How can I face her? What can I say to her? It’s unbelievable…incredible!

  The door opened. The warden, an older woman with sacks under her eyes and the countenance of a man, led Rachel into the room.

  “Call me when you’re finished,” she said, and left to stand guard outside the door.

  They were both silent. Rachel’s face, under the harsh light of the hanging bulb, had changed immeasurably. Through her torn dress, he could see the scratches, which had been treated with iodine. And as she stood there, she reminded him of the time she had come back from her trip with the Russian officer to Warsaw.

  He found it difficult to start the conversation. At least he didn’t have to look in her eyes, which were looking everywhere but at him. Had she really deceived him all this time? How was it he hadn’t discovered her deception?

  He was sure she would plead and beg his forgiveness and confess everything. If she did that, how should he react? What should he do then?

  To his astonishment, she just sat down on a chair and remained silent.

  Just another criminal, he reflected.

  As she lifted her blue eyes to him, tears flooded them, but she immediately turned away. They both sat there without saying a word, each one waiting for the other to begin. When the silence became oppressive, she finally said, “Give me a cigarette.”

  He gave her a cigarette and lit one for himself, too. The smoke curled around them and then pervaded the upper part of the room around the dusty bare bulb.

  They sat there and smoked in silence.

  “I want to go!” she said suddenly. “I’m tired!”

  That was how his first meeting with his incarcerated wife ended. For a few moments, he stood there, frozen, while Rachel called for the warden, who took her out and closed the door.

  Jacob drove home afterward because he wanted to be alone and concentrate. He was relieved the visit ended so fast and without words. He didn’t think he would have been capable of talking to her or even of listening to her.

  He knew it would be difficult to hide it from his parents and that it would descend upon them heavily. He felt helpless and needed time to clear his mind.

  On the way back from the prison, he had an urge to go and see Eddie and consult with him on what he should do as well as tell him about the visit. He quickly changed his mind and reasoned that, first of all, he must consider the matter by himself.

  The next morning, he would visit her again and talk to her at length. She, too, would probably speak more readily after a night in prison. After that, he would go and talk to the woman with the tattooed number on her arm.

  *****

  He didn’t finish opening his door before the telephone began ringing. It was almost midnight, and he lifted the receiver with reluctance.

  “Hello! Could I speak with Jacob Barder, please? I am a reporter from the…”

  “Barder isn’t at home!” he answered. Well, they were beginning already.

  “Who am I speaking to?” the reporter asked. “Are you one of his family?”

  “Yes. What happened?”

  “Could you please give us some information about Mr. Barder and how he happened to marry someone in the SS?”

  “I can’t give you any information, and I warn you not to write any fact about which Mr. Barder himself is not cognizant.”

  “Do you know what happened in the theater?”

  “Yes, we know, but you seem to know more. You’d better be careful of what you write before you involve your newspaper in a libel suit.”

  “I must be talking to Mr. Barder himself, right?”

  “Yes, you are.” Jacob didn’t deny it now.

  When he heard this, the reporter began to ply him with questions. Where had he been in the war? Where had he met Rachel? Had he brought her from Germany? What was her real name? What crimes had she committed? Were they legally married? Did they have any children? Had he known she was in the SS?

  Jacob didn’t know how to answer, and when he saw that the reporter wouldn’t believe he didn’t know the answers, he put down the receiver and cut him off.

  As he sat and smoked, the telephone rang incessantly. He didn’t answer
because he was certain that more reporters were on the line. Even if it were his parents, his friends, or Eddie, whoever it was, he didn’t want to speak to anyone.

  The ringing didn’t let up until Jacob finally unplugged the cord. Now a deathly silence filled the rooms. He shut off the lights and laid on the sofa in the darkness. He mulled over the event, but it was still too fresh to comprehend.

  In the silence and in the darkness, he recalled how they had met. Only now could he interpret her actions and her words in a different light. Her wantonness and her indifference. So many things were now clear to him. Now he understood the Nazi expressions she had drunkenly shouted at the policeman in Otvotsk, her longings for the people she refused to talk about, her anger when she was questioned about her past, her coldness to his parents and his friends, and her dissatisfaction with the life he had prepared for her.

  One thing puzzled him. What had brought her to Russia those first days after the war? How was it that she spoke Russian so well, and how did she know Russian customs and dances so well?

  He wanted to know under what circumstances the woman with the tattooed number on her arm had met Rachel, and what sadistic, heinous crimes had Rachel committed in Majdanek? What difference did it make if her name was Mathilda, Hilda, or Gretchen? What was clear to him was that he had fallen blindly in love with an SS criminal who had disguised herself as a Jewish girl from Russia.

  He accused himself of naiveté, of believing her too easily. It was so clear she preferred German songs to Russian songs and that she looked at war as a necessary reality.

  For a long time, he lay there mired in memories and speculations, hallucinating like a sick man with a fever. And yet he had no regrets, felt no self-pity, and didn’t blame himself for any of it. There was a war! Crimes and evil were rampant! He was one of the few who had survived.

  Fatigued from all his troubled thoughts, he fell asleep toward morning without removing his clothes.

  *****

  When he woke, he remembered that the phone was disconnected and reconnected it. Then he went to his mailbox and took out the morning paper and began to scan the pages quickly.