by Naomi Ragen
“But Zevulun, does not our holy Torah teach us to give each man the benefit of the doubt?”
“That is only in the case where there are no witnesses and the matter is unknown. You and I are both witnesses to how our daughter has changed, how she spoke to us.”
She wanted to answer: but why blame my sister for this, when it is we who have raised this child for the last eighteen years? But she did not want to hurt him any more than he was already hurt. Instead, she said vaguely, “But surely there is room for repentance. As it is written, God waits for the sinner to return, even if he has fallen down to the forty-ninth degree of impurity.”
“It is also written: ‘A man who purifies himself after touching a corpse and then touches it again, of what avail will his purification be?’ So with a person who fasts for their sins and then repeats them.”
Let him take his anger out on my sister, then, Pearl thought, giving up. That way, there will be less for me, and less for my baby. “We must have faith that our child is capable of true repentance, Zevulun Meir. This is our child, our baby, our little Rivkaleh.”
He hung his head in grief. “We’ll see.”
*
On the other side of the Williamsburg Bridge, in Manhattan, Rose was putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She had changed at least six times, switching from “want to please” to “want to shock” outfits and back again; from tight pants and short skirts to maxi skirts and wide culottes. She finally settled on a roomy gray dress over a T-shirt, layered with a long-sleeved violet-gray sweater. She wore a pretty beaded necklace and comfortable walking shoes. You couldn’t get more covered up than that! She shook her head, chagrined yet relieved, satisfied she’d done the right thing.
She thought about knocking on Rivka’s door again, but decided against it. The kid was in a state of high tension. The less they spoke, the better off they were. She called Hannah to remind her of the time, but there was no reply. Just as well. Hannah would, or wouldn’t, show up. It didn’t really matter that much either way, she lied to herself, wanting to prepare for disappointment. Of course, it mattered immensely, for reasons she couldn’t even fully explain to herself. Maybe it all came down to just the idea of meeting her family’s wrath head-on with some family of her own?
Finally, an hour before their meeting in her gallery in Chelsea—a fifteen-minute taxi ride away—she knocked urgently on Rivka’s door.
“It’s time to go, Rivka.”
The door opened and the girl came out. She had changed into a longer skirt but otherwise looked exactly as she had earlier. She smiled tensely.
“I’m ready, Aunt Rose.”
They hailed a cab and rode silently to their destination, Rivka checking for messages on her newly acquired cell phone, and Rose picking lint off her sweater.
Rose walked past the guard in the lobby, relieved to see him. “Good morning, John.” She nodded.
“And how are you this morning, Mrs. Gordon? Oh, I see you have a little friend with you this morning.”
“Yes, meet my niece, Rivka.”
“Hello, Rivka.”
Rivka looked him over: the uniform, the tall, fit body with the big black gun in the holster. She smiled broadly, relieved. “Hi, John!”
Rose then turned to the person manning the reception desk. “Michael, we are expecting some visitors today at eleven o’clock. Please don’t send them up. Call me when they arrive, and I’ll come down to get them.”
“Of course.” He wrote it down.
She exchanged glances with Rivka, trying to keep her expression as matter-of-fact as possible to promote the illusion this was something she did a dozen times a day. She could see the girl wasn’t fooled. Well, whatever would happen, it would be in a safe place, she thought, hurrying Rivka into the elevator.
*
About ten minutes to eleven, Pearl and Zevulun walked up the steps from the subway. They had considered asking their two eldest sons to drive them, but that would have necessitated filling them in on all the sordid details, which at present they preferred to keep to themselves, wanting to spare these gentle and scholarly men they had raised, as well as to preserve the relationship between siblings. The more positive things Rivka could come back to, the more attractive an alternative it would be to continuing her rebelliousness.
While they had lived in New York City all their lives, they had never been to this part of Manhattan. At first, they looked curiously into the windows of the high-priced art galleries. They saw a grid photograph of a dozen Asian children in ill-fitting suits with large black eyeglasses, each one looking more strange and forlorn than the next. Zevulun and Pearl shrugged at each other, raising their eyebrows, their mouths twisting in derision as they examined the fantastic prices being charged for this narishkeit. A fool and his money are soon parted, they thought, shaking their heads and continuing on. In the next gallery, there was a skull divided by blue lines into squares, each one a sparkling piece of stained glass. They moved away quickly, disturbed. Then, they came to a photograph that from a distance looked like people in a fancy theater. But as they moved closer, they could see everyone in the photo was as naked as the day they’d been born!
Zevulun turned his head away, spitting on the sidewalk, while Pearl hurried after him. After that, they were afraid to look at anything until they arrived at the address Rose had given them. They walked past the guard and up to the reception desk.
“We’ve come to see Rose Gordon,” Zevulun said.
“Your names, please?”
“We are her family,” he answered, and the words cost him something. “Zevulun and Pearl. Can we go up now?”
“Just a moment. She told me to expect you. I’ll call her.”
They waited, Zevulun impatient, Pearl excited and filled with equal parts joy and apprehension at what lay ahead of them. All she could think of was her daughter, so nearby, after all this time! And her older sister, Rose.
Rose emerged from the elevator, looking anxiously ahead.
There she was. Pearl! Her little sister.
She looks more or less how I remember, Rose realized, surprised and a bit devastated as she smoothed back her own gray, wiry curls, pulling her sweater self-consciously around her to hide her girth. As was sometimes the case with Haredi women who had given birth to many children, Pearl had retained her slim, youthful shape, and her expertly coiffed blond wig hid any hint of gray. She wore a long stylish suit of dark gray with a pretty gray, white, and maroon scarf, no doubt both designer labels purchased at another one of those cut-rate stores or seventy-percent-off sales.
The opposite was true for Zevulun, whom she had met briefly only once, at her mother’s funeral. He was almost unrecognizable. His once erect, distinguished figure was disfigured by rolls of fat that pressed out the sides of his black gabardine coat, the belt buckle barely making the last hole. His once black, neatly trimmed beard was almost white now and had grown to Santa Claus length. He looked like an old man.
“Rose?” Pearl said, staring at the strange woman who approached her, trying to mentally dig out in her face and body the sister she remembered. She found her in the eyes and mouth, which seemed the same, the deep brown ovals flashing with the same passion, the mouth in an ironic grin, a little flicker of the Rose who was once her dearest friend.
“Pearl, Zevulun,” Rose said, finding herself surprisingly unable to hug her sister as she had hoped she would. It was mutual, both of them hanging back in confusion, overwhelmed by emotion. Zevulun nodded, vaguely, looking at the ground. Did he subscribe to the view that a man should never look at a woman other than his wife? Or was it just her? In either case, she found it insulting and demeaning.
“Where is Rivka?” he asked sullenly.
“Come, she is upstairs waiting in my office.”
They walked to the elevator, then entered. Their close physical proximity combined with their emotional distance was awkward and nerve-wracking, Rose thought, willing the machine to move a little faster. The fact
that no one spoke made their few seconds together seem like an eternity. When the doors finally opened, releasing her, she felt a knot growing in her throat.
Why she felt like crying she couldn’t exactly explain or neatly sum up. It was a combination of anger, regret, longing, sadness, fear, and disappointment. And, yes, love. That most of all. To see her blood relative after all these years! She waited for Pearl to make some tiny, conciliatory gesture that would allow her to reciprocate, but there was nothing. They walked down the hall and into her gallery.
Michelle, Rose’s gallery manager, stood on the side, having pasted on her best professional face.
“Michelle, this is my sister, Pearl, and her husband, Zevulun. We are going into my office.”
“Hello, welcome!” Michelle said brightly, hiding her shock. She would never in a million years have guessed. Pearl smiled back tentatively, while Zevulun swept past her as if she was air.
The door opened.
“Rivkaleh!” Pearl cried, running to her daughter and embracing her.
“Mameh,” Rivka said in a small voice. She felt crushed, her defiant resolutions dissolving like salt at the first touch of warm water.
“Rivkaleh, what have you done?” Zevulun said hoarsely. To their utter astonishment, he sat down on a chair and began to weep uncontrollably like a child, his body heaving with heavy sobs.
Rose stared at him, appalled, realizing for the first time what he must have been through. She felt her anger toward him dissipate.
“Tateh!” Rivka cried, releasing herself from her mother’s embrace and sitting on the floor near him, leaning her head against his knees. He wiped his eyes and stroked her hair. “Rivkaleh, Rivkaleh…” he repeated, dirgelike. “Why?”
Rose could see that whatever resolve had lately strengthened the kid had now fled. She was a helpless shell. She wondered which Rivka she preferred? The determined modern girl who was ready for her abortion and her new life, or this wounded, chastised child with no will of her own at all?
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tateh, Mameh,” the girl wept.
“Why did you do this to us? Were you unhappy, maideleh? Did we demand things you didn’t want to do?” Zevulun asked his daughter gently.
“I don’t know,” she answered.
Rose shook her head, appalled, thinking: This is even worse than an abortion. She’s aborting herself, whatever new life she envisioned for herself. She’s in over her head and she’s deliberately opening up her mouth, breathing in water, drowning.
“It is time to come home, maideleh. Whatever you have done, we will begin again, and God will forgive us both.”
With that, Rivka straightened up. She wiped her eyes and stared at the wall. And then, suddenly, she turned an imploring gaze toward Rose.
Rose cleared her throat. “Before you make any arrangements for the future, there is something you need to take into consideration.”
“Was I talking to you?” Zevulun asked her threateningly. “Why do you think you have something to say? That you have a right to butt in, to put your nose in our business? This is our daughter, our family…”
“Zevulun Meir!” Pearl cried sharply. “Let my sister speak. Go on, Rose.”
“Rivka has something she needs to tell you,” Rose said quickly, offended, deciding to let her niece fend for herself for the moment.
“Please, Aunt Rose…” Rivka begged.
“What? What is it you need to tell us?” Zevulun demanded.
“Whatever it is, there is always repentance,” Pearl chimed in hurriedly.
“Oh, Aunt Rose, please!”
Just then, the door to the office swung open. Hannah walked in. She was dressed in tight jeans, an NYU T-shirt, and a leather jacket with lots of zippers.
There was a moment of tense silence as everyone turned to stare at her.
“My daughter, Hannah,” Rose said awkwardly.
“What did I miss?” Hannah said calmly, breezing into the room, giving Pearl and Zevulun a casual glance, her eyebrows raised when they did nothing to acknowledge her presence.
“So, she told you she’s pregnant?” Hannah asked them abruptly, annoyed. “And what do you plan to do about it?”
“Hannah!” Rose called out, too late.
It started as a cry, then rolled into a roar of anger and grief. Zevulun got up, slamming his hand into the wall. Pearl began to wail.
The door opened, Michelle sticking her head in. “Is everything all right?”
Rose quickly went to the door, pushing Michelle gently outside, whispering urgently in her ear, “Call security!”
“Oh my God! Rivkaleh, it can’t be true, can it?” Pearl asked, devastated, studying her daughter’s stomach.
Rivka stood up stiffly with a sudden defiance that was spilling starch into her backbone, Rose noticed, relieved. “Yes, it’s true!”
“This is your doing!” Zevulun shouted at Rose. “A shiksa, a prutza, dirties everything she touches. It wasn’t enough to kill your own parents, now you have to destroy us also!”
Rose backed away, alarmed, then stopped, standing her ground. “I know that you never studied biology, Zevulun, but surely you know it wasn’t me that got her pregnant.”
He roared, advancing toward her in fury. Pearl held him back. “Zevulun, sit down!”
He sank into his chair again, breathing heavily.
“Listen, I’ve had just about all I can take of this,” Hannah cried. “Why don’t you say something, Rivka? Why are you letting my mother, who was so kind to you, take the rap for something you did?”
“It’s not her fault, Tateh!” Rivka burst out. “I did this. Only me.”
“You are a child. You didn’t know any better.”
“I’m not a child. You were trying to marry me off, remember?”
“Is that the reason you ran, because you didn’t want to get married? He was such a fine boy! You would have been lucky to have him!”
“Yes, he was. He’s not the reason. I wanted a different life! Something of my own. I wanted to live, not just go from being someone’s child to being someone’s wife. I wanted a chance to be me first!”
“Me? Such narishkeit! Goyish narishkeit!” Zevulun said.
“Why? Why is it foolish, Gentile nonsense?” she answered her father. “Can’t a girl be a human being? Can’t she try to be somebody?”
“Who do you want to be?” Pearl asked her.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Me, me, all the time, me! But she doesn’t even know who that is!” her father scoffed, snorting derisively.
“How could you forget everything we taught you? How could you sin like this?” Pearl exhorted.
“She didn’t forget. She even went to the mikveh!” Hannah burst out.
A sudden transformation came over Zevulun. His swollen, clenched face fell into smoother lines. “Is this true?” he asked his daughter with sudden calm. “Did you go to the mikveh, Rivkaleh?”
“Yes, I did. I didn’t want to sin. And the boy, he is Jewish and not married. It’s not so terrible,” she pleaded.
“She went to the mikveh,” Zevulun said to Pearl, who reached out and held his hand. “The child will not be a ben-niddah. It will be pure.”
“Oh, so that’s the point, right? Well, there isn’t going to be any child!” Rivka shouted. “I’m going to get rid of it.”
Zevulun reached out for her swiftly. “Never!” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders in a painful grip. “To fornicate is one thing, but to shed innocent blood, it is unforgivable!”
“No, Rivka! Your father is right! We must talk about this. Come home with us for just a few days, just so we can talk this over,” Pearl begged. “There are other ways, better ways…”
“I am not going anywhere with you! I know what will happen! You’ll drug me, and send me off to some loony bin until the baby is born, and then you’ll give it away…”
“Maybe that is not such a bad idea!” Zevulun roared. “You are talking crazy, acting crazy
.”
“I am not crazy because I want a different life.”
“You said yourself you don’t even know what you want! You are a farshimmelt child. Come home!” Pearl pleaded.
“Don’t beg her, Mameh. If she has any Torah left in her, she will not disrespect her parents! You know what the punishment is for that?” he said shaking her. “God will shorten your life!”
All this time, Rose hung back helplessly. It was a family tragedy, and something that had nothing at all to do with her. But this was a bit much. “Wait a minute, Zevulun. Take your hands off her! And don’t try to blackmail her with fire and brimstone. Let her breathe. Let her think!”
“I’m telling you for the last time, shiksa, stay out of this!” Zevulun warned Rose threateningly.
“Hey, you can’t talk to my mother like that! And leave Rivka be. Who do you think you are?” Hannah said, pulling his hands off the girl and standing belligerently between him and her mother.
“How dare you touch me!” he screamed at Hannah. “Oh, so the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It was you who taught my daughter your whoring ways, and now you tell her to defy her parents?”
“I’m not telling her anything. And frankly, I don’t care what she does. She’s been nothing but a pain in the butt since she turned up on my doorstep. But this isn’t a Mafia movie, and you aren’t dragging anybody away to do who knows what…”
He grabbed Rivka’s hand. “You are coming home now!”
Pearl grabbed the other. “Yes, it is for the best, Rivka. You’ll see; we’ll sort it all out,” she pleaded.
There was a knock on the door. “Security!”
Rose opened the door. “Is everything all right in here, ma’am?”
“This has NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!” Zevulun screamed at the guard, suddenly beside himself, as he lunged at the door. “This is MY child, and she is coming home with me, before anything else happens to her!”