The Willow Tree: A Novel

by Hubert Selby

  and that was sort of how being with Moishe made him feel, now, like all of a sudden everything that was always the same had changed but he knew it was all the same, but somehow….

  he knew, mostly anyway, how the water made him feel good that day, but how does being with Moishe make him feel good???? Bobby shook his head and grinned and let go trying to understand what was happening, he just looked at Moishe with that look on his face like he never saw on anyone before and felt all those good feelings go through him and enjoyed it, figurin he best enjoy it as much as he can right now because sooner or later the street be squeezing in on him but for now he wasnt going to give that a thought but just sit with Moishe under the willow tree and look at Moishes face wondering how anyone can look so happy, and remembering the hydrant, the strawberry ice and how his wet sneakers felt when he walked like there was a big squishy cushion between his feet and the street…and, from time to time, seeing the sun wiggling around the leaves of the tree and hunching over the ripples in the water as boats glided by, ducks getting nonchalantly out of their way, and all the yells and screams of kids, kids, kids, and above all the various and sundry noises there was laughter…all kinds, all volumes, all laughter….

  So—still looking through the hanging branches at the water—We come from old country to America and friend brings us here. They too are having child, little girl, and we/re coming here and riding in boat and we/re seeing this tree…from over there, near that little island. Gertrude is first seeing it and yelling to me, The tree, the tree, and is almost tipping over the boat—Moishe suddenly laughed, moving his head for the first time in many, many minutes—Its like shes thinking she can walk on the water and is going to run to the tree—Moishe stopped laughing and closed his eyes for a moment, his face continuing to reflect his joy—Im rowing right here, that same little chink in the wall, and we/re getting out and sitting right away under the tree and all the years we/re coming here and sitting, we/re walking and rowing too, but always were sitting for a while here under the tree, just like this, and looking and hugging and yelling at Karl-Heinz to stay away from the edge, dont fall in, and Gertrude is telling me, always, to relax, hes alright…ya, she was so good a mother…and everytime we/re sitting here Im looking for a butterfly but never a butterfly here…but still her hair its like honey and the sun twinkled in it…always twinkled like lights on a Christmas tree…ya, the sun on her hair was always like Christmas….

  Moishe leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, again his reverie so clearly and lovingly reflected on his face, and Bobby sat beside the old man feeling as if he were sitting in the sun and it was twinkling in his hair, feeling so relaxed by whatever was coming from Moishe and so aware of the clean smell of the earth beneath him, the water, the air, the tree and still feeling the joy of his hydrant and squishy sneakers…watching a family of ducks bobbing up and down on the water, making their way to where the hanging limbs of the willow tree met the lake….

  In time Moishe opened his eyes and looked at Bobby with the same look of peace and reverie on his face, So…youre liking my tree?

  Bobby smiled and shook his head, It be righteous Mush—touching him on the shoulder—You be righteous bro—continuing to look at Moishe, feeling a sense of strength and softness flowing through him and around him, again, something he had no experience with, a feeling alien to him yet not frightening, not even questioning it, but simply experiencing it and knowing it was safe to allow it to happen, that the feeling was alright, that he was alright and it was fine to be touching Moishe like he was, leaving his hand on Moishes shoulder and feeling the warmth and safety that came from him, feeling somehow simply a part of the moment, void of self-consciousness, aware only of being there with Moishe and touching him and that it was alright, that everything was alright…yeah, that was it, everything was alright

  and Moishe looked into Bobbys eyes, aware of the change, aware of Bobbys place in what was happening at that moment, feeling, in turn, something coming from Bobby, Moishe realizing he was a part of Bobbys experience and rejoiced with a thousand hallelujahs, so happy to feel Bobbys contentment at and with the moment and feeling himself as much of the old happiness as was possible and that was as it should be, if resurrecting the past meant he had to again feel the crush of the camp and smell its deadly air, then he also should be able to feel the joy of love, the cleansing, healing happiness of their love under the willow tree and all other times because they carried that joy with them wherever they went…even under a building, lying in filth and fixing a pipe…of course, at that time he was more involved with other things, other feelings so maybe he was not as aware of the feelings of love, and didnt think about the butterfly, but always the love was there….

  Ya Bobby, we/re married 25 years and sometimes Im coming home from work and as Im starting already up the stairs I think of Gertrude and feel like I cant wait to see her…sometimes the pain is first tearing me apart, but always is there the love…always…O Bobby—placing his hand on top of Bobbys hand on his shoulder—sometimes Im so angry shes leaving me, alone, but eventually Im remembering the 53 years we/re having together and not always its the peaches and cream, after all, she was a woman—grinning—even now Im having to make stupid joke…but always the love Bobby…always—tapping Bobbys hand a few times, then leaning back against the tree and staring up through the branches at the sky…Bobby watching a little kid, being held by the arm by a parent, throwing bread crumbs to the ducks, the kid bouncing up and down and screeching, the ducks swimming around and gobbling the crumbs, from time to time diving under the surface for the ones that were slowly sinking.

  They stayed under the tree until the sun moved far enough to the west to bring a chill to the shaded, damp air under the tree. The change in the air and temperature was so great when they stepped from the shadows into the sunlight they both stopped for a moment to experience the warm air brushing against their skin.

  They continued walking through the park, Moishe deliberately avoiding the zoo where animals were locked in tiny, foul smelling cages, staying with the rolling grassy ground, the children yelling and running, the people lying on the grass, some hugging and kissing, a thousand and two radios playing all different stations and all melting into a noise Moishe chuckled at but was so happy he didnt have to live with, thinking it was nice he could go home and play what he would play, but for now they could rock their craziness.

  They stopped at one of the pushcart vendors, Moishe still smiling, So, maybe Im talking you into having some hot dogs?

  O Mush, how the fuck you ever figure that one out? you be one smart sonofabitch…damn, you be right on Mush—raising his right hand and waiting a moment until Moishe understood what was happening, then raised his, then gave Moishe a high five and Moishe laughed and gave it right back.

  They stayed at the hot dog push cart for many minutes, and when Bobby finished his second one, and his Pepsi, they started walking again.

  Mush, you best be gettin that wagon an wheelin me home, Im not makin it, uh, uh, no way Im walking all the way to the muthafuckin subway—shaking his head and laughing, Moishe grinning and still feeling the sensation in his chest when he heard Bobby say, ‘home’, a feeling of absolute joy, but also one of fear, fear of losing another son, another person he loved and held dear, but he decided to postpone the pain until later and enjoy right now, just enjoy…enjoy. He looked at Bobby, Is long time since Ive been here.

  Yeah?

  Ya…long time….And the first one I show my tree to is you.

  Bobby stopped walking and so did Moishe, No shit? I be the firs one you bring to your will tree?

  Ya…number one…is true.

  Bobby was smiling and grinning and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, feeling the grass bend and rise, bend and rise, Damn…now aint that somethin….Damn…the firs one….Damn, I caint believe that…me…the firs one. Damn Mush, you be somethin else—and Bobby started walking, shaking his head, beaming, beaming, beaming and bouncing on th
e grass, feeling and hearing the grass squish under his sneakers. He stopped and looked at Moishe, both with expressions of total joy on their faces, shook his head, Damn Mush, I really be diggin you. You be one righteous dude!!!!

  They continued to stroll through the park, each within themselves yet so aware of each other and the day, the sun, the sky, the people, the sounds, the birds and the grass. They were quiet on the ride back, each keeping the day alive in their own way, re-experiencing the joy as much and as deeply as possible.

  They were quiet as they ate that night, very few words passing between them, still locked in their reverie. When they finished they both leaned back in their chairs, looking at each other occasionally and grinning, until Bobby got up and said he was going to bed, I be beat Mush. All that fresh air and grass be making me nod out—grinning and giggling—an I aint never been to no Brooklyn before…man, that takes a lot out a little ol Bronx boy—both of them smiling and chuckling, Moishe feeling a contentment and joy he hadnt felt in a long time—an I gotta be workin out real hard tomorrow…got to get strong as you Mush, so I be rowin that muthafucka…got to be gettin strong Mush—Bobby suddenly looking reflective, the smile and joy totally gone from his face—I got to be makin them pay…theys the ones killed Maria…she be dead…dead Mush an they got to be payin for that…an I be seein they do—looking down at the floor, nodding in affirmation to his inner voice, reaffirming his conviction and commitment—got to be seein they pay for it…thas my job…yeah, that be my job—still looking at the floor and nodding his head as he turned and went to the bedroom.

  Moishe died a thousand deaths as he listened to Bobby and saw the change on his face, saw, and heard, the conviction in his voice, feeling an endless flow of tears hammering at his eyes as he watched Bobby leave the room, staring at the doorway long after Bobby had left, the empty doorway seeming to have some sort of substance, a message…an omen that Moishe could clearly see but was unable to accept…or believe….The thought passed through his mind that he should get up and go to the living room and sit in his chair and maybe the cat would jump up on his lap and he could lose himself in petting her; or a bowl of ice cream might soothe him or even washing the dishes might help him forget his pain, he could clean up the kitchen, tidy up a little…scrub the sink…something, but he could only sit at the table immobilized by the twisting pain and sense of betrayal…betrayal not by Bobby, but himself for allowing Bobby to fill his heart and to once again find happiness in another human being…betrayed by his memories…betrayed by his need to hope he could change Bobbys mind. How could he allow this to happen???? O God—holding his head—How could he allow this to happen???? He sat holding his head, staring at the table, feeling the kitchen getting smaller and smaller until he suddenly lifted his head and looked around and decided to go out. He left a note for Bobby in case he woke up and wondered where he was, and quietly left the apartment.

  The sky was clear, the moon bright, the light in the distance eerie, a strange pink glow in the sky almost like distant fires. He roamed around the endless area of desertion and abandonment, the blocks upon blocks of rubble, feeling the hard and gritty debris under his feet that was so different from the grass he had been walking on such a short time before. He heard shards of glass splinter and occasionally crack sounding like a gunshot, and in time he sat on a pile of bricks in the shadow of a crumbling wall…almost convulsing as ancient groans ground through his body, screams of pain, desperation and despair, the heavy, leaden blackness within and without and the paralyzing stench of death, the suffocating agony of living—his body jerked spastically and he wrapped his arms around his head, NO NO!!!! AHHHRRRR

  the first hideous, endless night in the camp they stood in the leaden air on ground screaming with the torturous tortured voices of those who had preceded them, stood through the leaden day into the leaden, interminable night when suddenly floodlights stabbed their eyes as had the sun, and the putrid, befouled men struggled to stay erect less they be beaten and tossed into a ditch and set on fire as had others, their screams twisting into their brains and scraping the inside of their skulls throughout the night, the screams that would haunt and torment them in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days all through the remainder of their days on earth and perhaps eternity….

  Moishe was bent over so far, as he sat on the pile of bricks, that he was almost a ball…Ya, the first night ended and so many more nights, and days, yet to live. Achhhh—Moishe stood and looked up at the sky, able to see only an occasional star and the lights of a few aircraft. The battered and decaying buildings looked eerie in the light from the street lamps, desolate silhouettes in the darkness. Shadows animated the garbage and debris tilling the streets and empty lots. The silence leaden, broken occasionally by the squealing of a rat or screech of a cat. There was nothing he could do. Bobby was here so Moishe had to help…he had to do what he had to do. And thats to suffer? Is that what Im supposed to do? Sit and watch hate eat up so young a life…again…as I have over and over? O what is this all about? O whats the use. There is never an answer…only questions…questions…but always we do what we do—Moishe shook his head and started back to the entrance to the cellars.

  Bobby spent as much time as possible exercising and working out. He knew exactly where the tension had been set for Moishe and was determined to be able to do at least 25 at that setting and 50 pushups real fast, justlikethat, before going after the spics. His body was tense with anticipation, his mind with impatience, but he knew hed be wasted if he didnt get in shape, so he tugged and yanked at the oars, and exercised his arms and legs.

  Bobby finished working out, showered and was sitting at the kitchen table, Moishe bringing 2 bowls of ice cream and chocolate sauce. Moishe forced himself to keep smiling through his pain and conflict, finding such joy in the way Bobby closed his eyes from time to time as he ate the ice cream, licking his lips and, hmmmmming, eventually to clean the bowl with his finger and licking it.

  Moishe leaned forward and scrutinized Bobbys face, Youre looking like new, even the bruises almost all gone.

  You mean I be pretty jus like before?

  Pretty?—Moishe shrugged and smiled a real smile—This Im not saying.

  They smiled at each other for a moment, then went back to eating their ice cream. When he finished Bobby leaned back in his chair and looked over Moishes head for a moment

  An you be in the constration camp four years?

  Ya…more.

  Bobby shook his head, Damn, that sure be a muthafucka.—Bobby looked at his bowl for a moment, then raised his eyes, You goin in there a German an comes out a jew…damn.

  Moishe nodded his head.

  Dont seem to me they be doin you no favor makin you a jew Mush. Firs you caint move your arms then they starve your ass.—shaking his head and chuckling—But you really be talkin to them jews after that, eh?

  Ya, ya. No longer I stay in the corner hating them…not talking. Im a—smiling—brother…a family.

  But you still got them Germans to hate, right Mush?

  The guards…the Nazis…and Klaus, always I hate Klaus, ya…O ya, I still hate, Bobby, and its killing me.

  Seem like them muthafuckas aint given no hate a chance to be killin ya the way they be beaten and starvin your ass.

  Moishes smile was soft and filled with understanding, Ya thats what Im saying, but I learn the hate was truly the killer.

  Sheeit, hate be keepin your ass alive bro, you be hatin strong enough you keep movin, you keep breathin, you keep livin so long you can be hatin, no way uh uh, no way you be makin it in this muthafuckin world you aint hatin somethin…somebody…uh uh, no fuckin way.

  A thousand lifetimes of pain passed through Moishes mind and heart, the million memories of shattered dreams, decimated hopes, a thousand and one disappointments in a day twisted and ravaged his tortured body and soul, each and every cell of his being screaming with tortured memories…and a sadness so profound for a moment it felt as if he would sink right through th
e floor into the bowels of the earth that gave him birth…not because he identified with what Bobby was saying, it was not only the words, the feelings, the broken and busted dreams they represented, but the lack of anger behind them…their simple calmness, acceptance, something so simple it had long ago been accepted as an immutable truth in the very marrow of Bobbys bones, it had been said with the same emotion and ready recognition as if he were saying you stop on red and go on green, and for that startled moment in time Moishe felt as if he were dying and any moment he would be able to leave his body, but almost instantly he was back at the table, experiencing a lifetime of torment and he had to lick his lips and swallow many times as he looked at Bobby who was still smiling as if nothing startling had occurred, as if the world hadnt suddenly ceased to be for a moment and they both hung, suspended but animated, in an eternal and agonizing purgatory, but now they were both at the table and Moishe struggled to return Bobbys smile….Ya—nodding his head—Ya, is true. Hate makes the muscles bulge…can survive almost anything…ya….But Bobby…in the end Bobby we dont survive our hate—closing his eyes for a moment so his past could quickly pass—We the Bobby…even while we stay alive we/re dying.