The Willow Tree: A Novel

by Hubert Selby

  Bobby shrugged, I aint seein that Mush—Bobby frowned and looked at Moishe, hard, in the eyes for a few moments—You aint hatin Mush? Tell me straight Mush, you aint be hatin those muthafuckas.

  Moishe looked as deeply as possible into Bobbys eyes, Is true Bobby, Im not hating now.

  Bobby continued to stare for a moment….You jus up an stop hatin them muthafuckas?

  Moishe shook his head and smiled, No way. I hate so much I got muscles in my gut—and he laughed and Bobby looked at him for a moment, then laughed too. Moishe stopped, took a deep breath, Is there a man named Sol. Im standing, arms stiff…just standing….Some are warming old man, others warming me. So…Im standing there in the middle of the barracks, arms stiff, like so…and I start to shake, and then a man is hugging me…ya, just like that hes hugging me…and then someone is putting around me blankets and the man keeps hugging and pushing gently on my arms and I can still feel the scratch of the blankets and the warmth of this man as hes hugging me and somehow the pain isnt killing me though Im feeling like Im going to crack….Ya, like Im cracking like piece of ice into little pieces but soon Im still…and warm, and he steps back and looks at me as he keeps on my shoulders his hands. And so, like that we/re standing until he helps me walk to his bunk and we/re sitting—Moishes voice trailed off and Bobby continued staring at him, blinking his eyes from time to time, almost saying something several times, but nothing coming out of his mouth, so they sat in silence for a few minutes until Moishe started speaking again, So then he talks to me, and—Moishe smiles and spreads his hands—and we talk for years.

  An you still here—Bobbys voice filled with amazement and admiration.

  Ya…still here—Moishe smiled at Bobby for a moment, then obviously came to a sudden decision, So, you want to get strong…okay. Youre getting dressed and we go to the store.

  Where we goin?

  We/re gettin some dumbells.

  Dumbells? How we be gettinem back here?

  The red wagon, ya? Is carrying one dumbell can carry more.

  Mush, its them jokes gonna be killin your ass…sheeit.

  When they got back with the weights Bobby started playing with them and Moishe laughed and showed Bobby how to use them, demonstrating the exercises, Bobby once again amazed at how strong Moishe was when he tried to do the same exercise as effortlessly as Moishe and had to struggle. Moishe reassured him when he saw how much it upset Bobby to be having so much trouble, Youre still weak and not used to exercise. Soon youre lifting like paperweights, ya?

  Right the fuck on Mush….And soon I be liftin those spics heads like the piece of shit they are—instantly Moishe experiencing the ripping in his heart and sudden lack of breath. He continued to watch Bobby for a few minutes, not certain he was really seeing him, then left him alone to continue the workout and found the cat and sat in his chair, the cat on his lap, but it was restless and jumped down as soon as Moishe let it go. Moishe watched it for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair for a moment wondering if he would ever be free of pain, wondering yet again why Bobby came into his life when he expected these final years to be peaceful and free of the conflict and pain that seemed to haunt him all his life, the agony that always came when he thought he had suffered enough.

  But that thing that he could never see, that wonderful thing of love he found within himself, always answered his questions long before he asked them, but in a way he could never anticipate. But he did trust that thing…absolutely. Yes. He trusted it. And so when he saw how much Bobby had accepted hate as a necessary part of life he realized, in his gut, (or was it his heart???) that he had to help Bobby become strong, to give him what he had. Wasnt that the answer Sol had given him, and this thing inside him constantly reaffirmed, to share whatever I have. Bobby needs to be strengthened in his body and Moishe knows how to do that…so I do that. Is this different? It cant be. Somebody needs something I have so I give it….But why this???? How do I know why? I dont ask. Why? WHY? Its always, eventually, unanswerable, and the more I ask the deeper I go into madness. Why I dont need, just how. So I help him get back the strength he needs to kill young boys, O Werner…young? Are they ever young on these streets Werner? Was anyone young in the camps? Young. Is it young to not even question hate? To accept it like breathing? Werner, stop analyzing. Please, no more madness. Simply allow your heart to be open. Dont defend yourself against the pain of loving this boy and having him torn from your life as has happened in the past…especially with Karl-Heinz…o god…our little Heinz. How could he survive those years of hell and then when…let your heart embrace this boy, fully and totally. Give him all of it. Dont defend against the pain Werner. If it comes it comes. But if it comes let it come in its own time…not now….O Werner, what madness. You couldnt close your heart if you wanted to. Already its as if youve known him all your life. Hes in your heart and soul…in every cell of your body…in your genes Werner, in your genes. Dont defend against the pain. If it comes it comes. If it does youll have the answer. You know that. You always have the answer. Do as you do. How many years now Werner? Should we count?—Moishe smiling and shaking his head—Heart and arms open Werner…always, heart and arms open…and Moishe opened his eyes as he became aware of something tapping his ankle and the sound of meowing, and he looked down at the cat, smiled and tapped his lap, Come on—and the cat jumped up on his lap and spent a few minutes kneading, then turned in a circle a few times before snuggling into Moishes lap in a tight ball, tail wrapped alongside its body, one paw over its eyes, sighing softly, contentedly, and going to sleep as Moishe rubbed its head and behind its ears. Moishe continued to pet the cat, smiling at its purring, and continuing to smile as he also heard Bobby struggling with the weights.

  The days and weeks followed a routine that Moishe laid out for Bobby and Bobby followed exactly. He worked out in the morning before he ate, then showered and drank a large body builders drink Moishe prepared for him. When Moishe first filled a glass from the blender Bobby looked at it, frowning, then looked at Moishe mischievously, What this gonna be doin Mush?

  Moishe shrugged, Maybe its making your muscles as big as your head—laughing his silly laugh.

  Bobby shook his head and smiled, Mush, you sure be a sad assed dude.

  Moishe shrugged and grinned, Is maybe adding 3 inches and 2 lbs to your wiener, ya?

  Hey, right the fuck on man!—shaking his head and grinning as wide as possible—Wiener can ya dig it???? A muthafuckin wiener, hehehe. Mush…you be sick…damn…you be a sick dude.

  Bobby sipped the drink, then opened his eyes wide and looked at the glass, then Moishe, Hey, this be righteous Mush. Bobby took a long drink, looked at the glass again, then emptied it and licked his lips, That be tastin fine….Damn, an it be puttin some bad weight on my pretty dick! Sheeit, you be alright Mush.

  They looked at each other, smiling happily, Bobby wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, I be fixin to axe you Mush what be happenin to the dude what be huggin you?

  Moishe looked at Bobby not understanding, So????

  You know, the dude in the camp that be huggin your arms down after you—

  O ya, ya…Sol.

  Sol? That be his name?

  Ya, Sol—Moishes expression changing to one of reverie and reverence—Ya…Sol….

  Bobby studied Moishes face for a moment, always loving it when he got that look on his face, whatever he was feeling making Bobby feel good, and, too, Bobby knew it meant that whatever they were talking about, or he was thinking about, meant something really special to Moishe and he really liked to see the old man so happy, really groovin behind it, it jus be turnin his ass on, He be makin it?

  So????

  You know, he live?

  O ya, ya. Sol lived. Who knows—shrugging—maybe hes still living. I hope.

  You see him after you split the camp?

  No…no. Last time Im seeing Sol is couple days after camp is liberated.

  Bobby was still turned on by Moishes expression a
nd manner and was smiling from deep within himself, He be your main man, huh?

  Main man?—looking bewildered.

  Bobby started laughing, Man, it sure do tickle me when you lookin that way.

  So?

  Bobby smiled all over his face, I mean like you two was really tight…bes friens.

  O ya, O so…so…Im not knowing how much best friends. Sol was…O, so important…like—shrugging, groping for words—like god, like breathing.

  Like he hip ya to the camp…like show ya how to make it…run a scam or somethin.

  Moishe looked at Bobby for a few long moments, that reverential expression on his face, Bobby feeling it sweep over him. Moishe looked at Bobby with such overwhelming tenderness and love Bobbys knees started to weaken…Im not knowing from scam, but ya, Sol showed me how to survive…not just stay alive…survive—gently tapping his chest—in the heart.

  Bobbys expression asked the unspoken question, How?

  O Sol, such a simple man…a nobody, a clerk or bookkeeper—shrugging—who knows, but such a person—Once again that faraway look crossed Moishes face as if he were somewhere else—You know Bobby, sometimes Im thinking all those years ago did Sol really be, is he really there or am I imagining—smiling, grinning—Sometimes Im even thinking it was an angel whose talking to me…Im thinking if I talk, today, with other men in that barracks are they seeing Sol too? Are they hearing him?

  Bobby watched, smiling….Soun like he save your ass for sure.

  Ya—laughing—for sure…for sure.

  What he be doin, showin you how to be gettin extra food an stay hid from the muthafuckin man?

  Man?—again shaking his head and smiling.

  Bobby shook his head laughing happily, just loving to watch Moishe, Damn Mush, how you get so square? The guards.

  O ya…ya, the guards. No…and anyway, how can you hide? No. Sol is showing me how not to hate—

  Not to hate? In that muthafuckin joint? Soun like bull shit.

  Ya, ya, I say to him the same thing.

  I doan know Mush—shaking his head—Soun like some deep shit to me! Anyway, I bes be gettin dressed.

  Suddenly Moishe was alone in the kitchen looking at the doorway, hearing Bobby moving around in the bedroom. Eventually he got up from the table and washed the glass, and the blender, and remained at the sink for a moment remembering how patient Sol was with him, how Sol always let him yell and curse Klaus, and the Nazis, Moishe feeling his face flush, knowing it was getting redder and redder as it got hotter and hotter, but not caring, just wanting to scream his hatred into the rotten, foul air, wishing he could scream it into the brains of the guards then scoop their brains out of their skulls and scream them into oblivion and always he would reach the point where he could no longer yell, his throat almost closed, feeling a large lump, hearing the hoarseness, his voice starting to fade and always…always, without ever one exception he would end up on Sols bunk, his arms wrapped around his head, moaning and crying from deep in his soul, from some place he had never known existed, never having been so violated by life…so shattered by the circumstances of his existence…never having the ability to imagine being in a situation like the one he was in at that moment…and always Sol would let him have the dignity of his pain….

  and when Moishes turmoil would subside Sol would put a hand on his shoulder and reassure him that it was alright to feel as he felt. Just feel Moishe and dont judge…thats all. You are a loving man Moishe, you cant stop the love forever, it is more powerful than the camp.

  Sol—tearfully looking at him—How can you say these things? How can you look around and say these things? There is nothing but hate here. There is nothing but blind stupid hatred here and you want me to love these…these…crazed beasts?

  I want only that you treat yourself with respect. They wont so you should. Is that not so?

  Words Sol…words. It is only hate that keeps me alive.

  Is that so? Perhaps, but I think not.

  I live only to someday get Klaus and all the rest of them—waving his arm in a wide arc.

  Moishe my friend, we all need a reason to live. If yours is hate, to kill, then so it is—shrugging and looking at Moishe with profound understanding—but what do you end up with? a poisoned heart and in the end hate will kill you.

  Kill me? Hate is not killing me. I will stay alive to…to…O god….

  Sol was quiet for a moment…My friend, we have more chance of surviving this place than our own hate. Hate always destroys the hater, that can not be avoided. But some of us will survive this place, that is always the way. I dont know why, but there is always those who survive. Maybe life wants it like thai so we can tell others what happened, so all this will not happen again.

  You sit here in this place, this putrid miserable hell, and spout this…this…shit, this pure unadulterated SHIT!!!!

  There was a faint hint of a smile on Sols face, Where can I go my friend? Yes I sit here and say what I say.

  But how can you talk such shit?!

  How? Because no one has suffered more from hate than me. Hate killed me, my friend, so I know.

  Ahhhhhhh….Moishe jerked up from the bunk and waved his arm in dismissal and went to his own bunk and sat, hunched over, his arms wrapped around his head….

  How many times did I run away from Sol?—Moishe smiled—until I died. Yes, like Sol said, hate killed me. So Werner, now we let Bobby die. So maybe hate will kill him so he can live. We will see. I just dont interfere with life…Ya, just like that—smiling and shaking his head—just like that.

  At night they went out for walks. Moishe would buy a few pieces of fruit and they would eat them as they strolled along the streets, sooner or later always stopping at a pushcart and Bobby loading up on hot dogs.

  They were mostly silent as they walked through the deserted, rubble strewn area, not by conscious intent or decision, but primarily because the area created such oppressive feelings within them, each for their own reasons and in their own way, that conversation was impossible….Moishe remembering the years he lived here, first with his wife and son, then with just Gertrude, remembering the people that used to live here when this was still a family neighborhood, when children ran the streets and women pushed baby carriages and a night like tonight all the strollers would be out and they would walk or just stand and talk, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend, sometimes just strangers smiling at little children and complementing mothers: Such nice chubby cheeks, oh I could just eat them up—pinching cheeks and waving their heads in the childrens faces….Yes, so many people…and smells, the smells of life like cabbage soup, chicken, all kinds of chicken, brisket, pastrami, bagels, biali, bread, all the smells and all the people and all the stores…one after the other, all touching…stores for blocks and blocks, and on any block you could get everything you need, food, clothes, pots, pans, ice cream. And all those years they lived in the same apartment over the dry goods store…the sun coming in the kitchen in the morning like a canary bird…ya, thats what Gertrude said, like a canary bird. Who knows why it was like a canary bird, but it was there and so was the window that you could open and close, just like all the windows and doors, in and out, up and down. When Moishe had to get up early some mornings he would sit at the table drinking coffee, watching the sun come up and always it excited him to know that the sun would be there for another day, that the darkness would be penetrated then absorbed, and on those mornings he would count his breaths from the first hint of light until the last hint of darkness, seeing how much brighter it got with every breath he took as if he was willing the sun up for another day just by breathing, and it seemed to bring a hint of light to his memories of the camp and the years he thought his family was dead. They were good mornings, yes, very good mornings. Now the same buildings were crumbling, shattering, the once crowded streets strewn with rusted cans, broken bottles, bricks, rocks and rats and it sounded like a million lives were being crushed under his feet as he heard each step crunch through the debris. So ha
rd to believe that once there was so much life right here, in this place, and now only shadows and death…and dying. Silence was needed for Moishe as he walked through the symbol of his life…life always followed by crumbling death as if everytime he watched the sun rise he was willing its descent….But that too was lovely sometimes when they sat in the living room of their railroad flat watching the sunset, not that they could actually see it set, but they could see glimpses of sky between buildings and watch it change color, he and Gertrude always fascinated by the play of light and color in the sky and on the buildings, fascinated by how parts of certain buildings seemed to be softened and altered by the changing light. And each time he walked through here with Bobby he wanted to point out where he had lived, where a certain store had been, the school, the park, a playground but always the crunching underfoot rendered him mute and they walked in silence, Moishe anticipating the turning of a corner where they would be surrounded by life and leave the decay behind.