All of a sudden, a young woman not wearing a uniform and carrying a large sack in her hand walked into the room. She handed a paper to the soldier. As he read it, she seemed impatient and argued that he was taking too long. Moments later, she walked up and down the line of girls and stopped in front of me and my heart leaped.
She was probably in her mid-twenties, and had blonde straight hair which was pulled back into a severe bun and fastened at the nape of her neck. She was very pretty but I was afraid to look at her and kept looking down. But she put her hand on my face and I looked up and saw a very sweet smile greeting me. She took my hand, stroked the hair out of my eyes and shouted something to the soldier before walking away.
There were more shouts as my group was led in one direction and my mom began to move further away from me. “Please, please,” I pleaded as I stretched out my hands, trying to grab my mother’s hand. But all she could do was look at me with sadness in her eyes and a tiny brave smile as she nodded that I would be ok. That was the last time I saw my mother. And I never had a chance to say goodbye to my father.
Chapter Eight
I had been standing for over 30 minutes and my feet were really hurting. Why do women sacrifice comfort for style? I asked myself as I turned my right ankle in so that I could momentarily relieve the pressure from my other foot. And as the Rabbi continued with the blessings, all I could process was blah, blah, blah and thought of the movie “The Graduate” when Dustin Hoffman appeared high up in the church and professed his love for Katharine Ross. But that only happens in the movies.
The ceremony had now reached the point where we exchange rings. But from standing for so long, my fingers swelled and Jacob had to push the thin gold band on to my finger. As he did, I looked for Nana to jolt up from her seat and shake and shout her disapproval just like in “The Graduate.” Instead, she returned my glance with her sweet smile. And now, like the grains of salt passing through an hour glass, my time had run out as I slid the band on Jacob’s ring finger.
“Harai at mekudeshet li, b”taba- at zu, k’dat Moshe v “ysiroe,” “Be sanctified to me with this ring, according to the laws of Moses and Israel”
The Rabbi continued, “By the powers vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
“Mazel Tov,” the crowd erupted as Jacob stomped to pieces the symbolic glass wrapped in a white linen napkin. After lifting my veil for a very brief kiss, we walked hand in hand down the three steps quickly passing all of our well-wishers who were on their feet clapping with their approval.
Waiting to greet us at the back of the sanctuary was Diane.
“Mazel Tov. Congratulations. That was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Jacob said smugly as if he had just won a spelling bee contest.
“Do you want a few minutes?”
“We’re ok but now I really have to pee,” I said.
Diane laughed as she walked me to the bridal room where I had first dressed while Jacob stood and shook hands with our guests on their way into the ballroom.
“Could you find my grandmother? I really would like to see her.”
“Sure,” Diane said as she opened the door to the bridal dressing room and I made a mad dash for the bathroom, wiggling out of my dress as I filled the bowl fearful that it would overflow.
“Danielle.”
“I am in here Nana. I will be right out.”
“It was a beautiful ceremony. And Rabbi Asa did such a wonderful job.”
“He did Nana,” I said as I came out of the bathroom rearranging my dress. “But I feel sick.”
“Do you want me to get you something? Are they serving soup? I am sure they can get you some. It always makes you feel better.”
“I am ok. I am just a little light headed. It’s my nerves from standing so long. I’ll be ok.”
“Could you get my granddaughter a little soup?” Nana asked Diane.
“Thanks Nana. But I am sure it would not be as good as yours,” I protested.
“I am sure I can,” Diane said as she left the room.
“Vooz?” Nana turned back to me.
“Nothing.”
“Oy. Such a beautiful girl should not have such a sad face on her wedding day.”
The kitchen was only steps away from the bridal room and Diane quickly returned with a cup of steaming hot chicken soap.
“Thank you dear,” Nana said.
“My pleasure. And I think I will leave the two of you alone for a little bit while I check the ball room.” Diane left.
“Take some soup,” Nana urged me.
“I will Nana,” I said as I put a spoonful to my mouth. “Nana, do you remember when I did not feel well when I was young, and you told me that the soup was blessed.”
“I do.”
“And you would say, Sweetheart. It is magical. The first drop of chicken soup was blessed by God and each drop made after that is also blessed.”
“That’s right. God blessed the first drop of soup and every drop after that was blessed.”
“And you would say, ‘Eat some soup, Danielle. It will make you feel better.’ And I would say, ‘But Nana, I am not hungry’.”
“I remember. So many years ago but I remember it like yesterday. So what’s wrong sweetheart?”
“Nana, I think I made a terrible mistake.”
“Mistakes can be fixed.”
“I don’t know, Nana.”
Nana and I talked for a few more minutes until Diane back came into the room.
“Are you ready for your grand entrance Mrs. Liebowitz?”
“Wow. You are the first person to call me by that name.”
“Well, it takes a little getting used to. But a year from now, your face will light up when you hear your name.”
“Like this?” I moved my lower lip as far right as I could so as to distort my smile.
“Kind of,” she said, frowning.
“I love you Nana,” I said, turning back to my grandmother.
“You’ll be fine. But smile so everyone can see that beautiful pu-num,” she replied.
I shrugged away my anxiety with a careless smile as Nana left the room.
“Ready?” Diane asked, not offering me any opportunity to respond as she walked me to the ballroom entrance where Jacob was waiting by the door.
“It’s show time,” Jacob announced. I wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face as he took my hand. And as we awaited the band leader’s introduction, I fantasized about taking a long, hot bath to soak my aching feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together as we welcome for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Liebowitz.”
Diane pushed open the doors to more cheers and shouts as Jacob led me directly onto the dance floor where we had our first dance followed by the father-daughter dance. And as my dad waltzed me around, he again told me what he had said so many times before; that Jacob “was a good man.”
“I know Dad.”
“And I know you will give him a chance.”
“I think I did. I just married him!”
My father shot me an inquisitive stare and looked anxious to respond but was quickly swept away on his feet by our family and friends who circled us as the band started to play the traditional Hora. And just when I thought the dance floor could not fit any more people, a chair was pushed under me and I was lifted into the air. Seconds later, Jacob was rocketed up in his chair holding the end of a white napkin and we were guided towards each other.
After I snagged the other end of the napkin, our lifters spun us around the center of the dance floor like wobbling tops that were about to lose their momentum. But each time I thought the ride was over, we were thrust even higher into the air as our chair lifters kept in sync with the rhythmic beat. And as I continued to be tossed and jostled in my seat, I lost sight of my father and felt unsure about the man who was to replace him as my protector.
The rest of the night was a blur as I drank too much champagne an
d ate too little food.
By midnight, only a handful of our friends and family remained. Holding my shoes in my hand, I told Jacob that I was going to change. But Jacob waved me off with his hand while he continued talking to his best man.
When I returned, we said our last goodbyes and drove to the hotel that Jacob’s parents had arranged for us to spend our wedding night. And as Jacob inserted the room card key into the door, I asked in a flirtatious tone, “Well, are you going to carry me over the threshold?”
Jacob did not respond as he opened the door, switched on the light and walked inside, leaving me alone in the dimly lit hallway.
“Are you coming?” he questioned in a tone that would be more appropriate for a boss asking his employee rather than of a husband of his new wife. Accompanying the question was Jacob’s now too familiar shit-eating grin. I crossed my arms hoping my body language would send the right message. But, instead, Jacob continued examining the room as if he was a quality control inspector while I stood at the door. And for a fleeting moment I planned my escape. I could take the elevator down to the lobby. Have the desk call me a cab and this nightmare would be finally over. But, like the good girl that I am who always wants to please, I stepped inside.
The room was not just a room but a huge suite and seemed even bigger as Jacob opened the drapes.
“My folks must have spent big bucks on this room. And it probably has a great view during the day. But we’ll be leaving early,” my tour guide announced. He then proceeded to toss off his shoes and unbutton his shirt as I walked passed him and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Are you ok?”
Looking around the room, I wished I was in my in my own bed holding my pillow.
“Yeah, I am still feeling lightheaded. I think it was too much champagne. And my feet hurt.”
I was hoping my words would convey to Jacob that I wanted to put off consummating our marriage for another day.
“Are you scared?”
I thought the question was strange and I now wanted the moment to be over before it even started.
“Should I be?”
“No,” he replied, though I was not satisfied by his answer. And though my aunt had bought me this beautiful silk nightgown to wear on my wedding night, after Jacob’s remark, I had no burning desire to disappear into the bathroom and come out throwing myself on my new husband.
“I am your husband now. And I will protect you.”
Jacob’s announcement sounded like an actor auditioning for a part in a play. But with that unconvincing performance, he would never get the role.
“And you never have to ever feel afraid.”
Hearing him say just those words made me feel more frightened.
“Tonight we are one.”
Jacob’s line was so corny that I panned the room for whoever was feeding him these lines. As I did, Jacob sat down next to me and lowered my head onto the pillow. I closed my eyes, expecting him to kiss me. Instead, his hands reached for the top of my pants. After twisting the top button open, he pulled my pants and panties off and I felt his finger probing inside me.
“Open your eyes.”
My head was spinning from the champagne and I wanted to sleep. “Sweetheart. Open your eyes.”
Sweetheart? I wondered. Jacob rarely ever used words of affection.
As I raised my eyelids, Jacob stood by the bed and removed his shirt exposing his very hairy chest. His pants and boxers followed and I closed my eyes again. And with my blouse still buttoned up, he climbed on top of me and attempted to thrust inside me as he spread my legs with his hand.
“Ow,” I yelled, arching my back.
But my announcement of pain was met with deaf ears as Jacob thrust again and I yelled louder.
“I am not ready.”
“Shh,” he said as he put his hand over my mouth signaling for me to be quiet as he thrust harder and even deeper. And I wanted to cry but did not. Instead, I grabbed the piping on the side of the mattress. He thrust again, and again, and again. And each time he withdrew was followed by an even harder and deeper thrust and I felt the same jerking, uneven sensation I felt like only a few hours ago when we were lifted up in the chairs.
“Jacob, it really hurts.”
But again my pleas were ignored as he began an uneven in and out and in and out motion. I felt his sweat pouring from his chest and through my top. Seconds later, his body stiffened as he gave out a horrendous, ugly moaning sound before crashing his chest on mine. And for the moment while he lay on top of me, I could feel the pounding of his heart lessen.
Finally, he withdrew and rolled onto his side while I remained still. We exchanged no words as Jacob fell into slumber while I continued to feel pain from the ordeal. Scared, I hummed to myself
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbalalaika, shpil balalaika
Tumbalalaika freylekh zol zayn
and prayed that tomorrow I would learn to love this man.
Rose’s Seventh Diary Entry
“Raus, Raus, Schnell, Schnell,” the soldier shouted with the butt of his gun jabbing in my back. And as I hobbled through the wooden gates that only a short time had opened to accept its newest group of displaced Jews, I passed row after row of tall evergreen trees that dripped in necklaces of ice. With one shoe too large and the other way too small, I stumbled through the crunching snow as the wind was howling and shaking off snowflakes that slammed to the ground.
A few hundred kilometers from the gate stood a stone and brick house which I had not seen when we entered the gates as it was on the other side from where the train had stopped.
Waiting behind the glass front door of the house was the woman with the kind face that had pulled me out of the line.
“You’re cold. I poured you a bath. It’s all right,” she greeted me.
The woman had soft blonde hair, was very fair skinned and spoke softly. And I had the feeling that those wayward hairs dangling over her eyes would be whisked back into place as soon as she passed the nearest mirror.
She pointed to a room down the hallway and as I walked through the house, a rich smell of food wafted toward my nose.
“Don’t be scared. You are the lucky one.” She stroked the hair out of my eyes and I started to cry as I repeated to myself “you are the lucky one.”
I followed her to the bathroom where she helped me out of my clothes and into the tub. I will never forget that wonderful bath. There was real soap, the water was hot and the tub was clean. Soon my weary body was covered with sweet smelling sudsy lather and I did not want to leave the tub.
“My name is Irene,” my savior said, handing me a warm cup of very strong black tea which I sipped very slowly, treasuring each steaming drop and wondering why I had been singled out. Why was I so lucky?
Irene had placed some clothes on the sink counter and she waited for me in her room which was next door. Her room appeared to have been converted from an office as there were gray file cabinets that lined one wall along with what appeared to be a few text books that barely filled a very large book shelf. Other than her bed, the rest of the room contained a small table, lamp, and radio, and a very large chair.
Irene explained that she was the commandant’s housekeeper and supervised all of the cooking and cleaning of the home for the commandant who loved to entertain. I would be working with her. She also said that the work was very hard and the hours long. But so long as I did my work, I would survive. I was also not to talk to the commandant, not ask questions, and only speak if I was spoken to. I was not to make conversations with any visitors and just do my work. If I had any questions, I should ask her.
Sensing I was hungry, she took me into the kitchen and fed me some leftover chicken and potatoes. There was even a basket of black bread that she warmed up in the oven. I ate with a gusto having not had a meal in days. She continued to explain my job duties. But as she spoke, I wanted to ask her about my parents. Would they be
ok? And why were the other girls pulled out of line? What happened to them? But I was frightened of what her answers might be.
Finally, she opened a door and led me down six steps from the kitchen into the basement. Irene pointed to a metal framed bed that was very low to the ground. She said that this where I would sleep and she handed me a blanket and told me to go to sleep as tomorrow would be a long day. It was dark and cold, and every time I closed my eyes, my mind could not escape the last images of my family. I eventually cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Nine
Though I had known Jacob for almost a year before I said, “I do,” getting married was still the most impulsive thing I had ever done in my entire life. But my father had repeatedly told me that “Jacob was a good man.” Perhaps my father really was Tevye. And, being older and wiser, he saw qualities in my husband that were not transparent to me. So I pledged to myself to be patient.
“Good morning, Mrs. Liebowitz,” a male’s voice announced accompanied by a tapping on my shoulder. “Rise and shine.”
I must have been in that stage between sleep and consciousness and I did not immediately respond. The last thing I did remember was staring at the ceiling and humming “Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika.”
“Mrs. Liebowitz, this is your husband. Time to wake up.” The tapping now moved to the top of my head. And I thought I was dreaming as I slowly lifted my head from my pillow.
“What time is it?”
“Time to go. I want to be on the road by 10.”
Through my half closed eyes, I searched the room looking for something familiar.
“Mrs. Liebowitz.”
I lifted up the blanket and saw that one leg of my pants was free but the other was down around my ankle and I tightly crossed my legs as I felt the pain all over again.
“How does it feel to be Mrs. Liebowitz?” Jacob asked as he sat down on the side of the bed and stroked my hair.
If I heard Jacob say the name one more time, I was going to scream.
“A few more minutes,” I pleaded as I dropped my head back onto the pillow. And I now had the same headache that I woke up with yesterday.
Against My Will Page 7