by Rose Zwi
The call from the maternity home came through at five o’clock in the morning.
‘It’s a boy, they’re both well, he weighs eight pounds two ounces,’ Dovid repeated to Gittel before he closed himself in his room and fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.
The neighbours called early to wish Gittel and Dovid ‘Mazeltov’. She was somber, he was red-eyed. Hershl kissed Dovid on both cheeks.
‘Have lots of nachas from your son,’ he said.
‘The ranks of the working class are expanding,’ Leib beamed, patting Dovid on the shoulder.
Berka embraced Dovid wordlessly, then walked out of the house with Gittel. She was wearing her black hat and was on her way to the synagogue to say a blessing for the new-born baby.
‘Don’t forget,’ he said leaving her outside the synagogue, ‘We’re going to bioscope tonight. This is an occasion for celebration.’
Raizel stood in the kitchen, watching Yenta make taiglach for the bris, the circumcision ceremony.
‘From two and two to five and three,’ Yenta said. ‘My dreams are becoming less reliable. I’ll have to work out another system. Mrs. Zlotnik writes out all the numbers on a piece of paper, takes a pen, closes her eyes…’
‘I’d better wish Dovid mazeltov,’ Raizel said.
When she left, Yenta closed the window—draughts were bad for taiglach; locked the front door—Faigel’s yeast buns had fallen flat when Mrs. Pinn unexpectedly walked in while she was baking, and sighed heavily as she watched the doughy O’s toss about in the boiling syrup. She should have been making taiglach for Raizel’s wedding. Next birthday she would be twenty-two and there was still no sign of a husband.
Dovid was on his way to the nursing home when Raizel arrived. She stifled a feeling of utter desolation as she shook his limp hand. There was a newcomer in his world, the world into which she had not even established a foothold. Ruth ran up and put both arms around Raizel’s neck.
‘I didn’t even want a brother,’ she confided.
Visiting hours were from ten to eleven. Dovid walked slowly up to the tram stop and watched the Saturday morning crowd mill through the streets. The miners’ wives with their shopping baskets; Jews in their sabbath best; children freed from a week’s school queueing outside the Roxy to see ‘The Masked Rider’ with Tom Mix. Poorly-dressed black men stepped off the pavement before the shoppers and waited patiently at the back of shops until the white people had been served, A strange race, black as pitch. Dovid did not understand or like them, but his heart ached at the stripping of human dignity.
Perhaps he should bring Sheinka some fruit. He would catch a tram further down the road, he thought as he walked towards Chidrawi’s shop. It required an effort not to look into Nathan’s Drapery Store.
‘Give me half a dozen yellow cling peaches,’ he said absent-mindedly to Chidrawi. ‘And a pound of grapes,’ he added, remembering that Sheinka did not like peaches.
He ran across the road in time to catch the approaching tram. It was crammed with dressed up women going into town. Mrs. Nathan was among them. She nodded to Dovid in a queenly manner and made no comment on the birth of his son, a calculated piece of indifference for which Dovid felt grateful. Mrs. Nathan affected to know nothing of what went on in the suburb. Fashion was her world.
The tram thundered down the Dip, past Berka’s shop where Dovid caught a glimpse of him in his leather apron, with nails between his pursed lips, bent over the last. And there, beyond the Dip lay Berka’s fabulous city of gold. Sodom and Gomorrah. An ugly city with dull grey structures crowding over narrow streets.
At Market Square he caught another tram which took him up Hospital Hill to the maternity home. At the terminus he went into the large pharmacy where Joel worked. Sheinka, on the way to the hospital last night, had asked him to bring her another jar of Vicks.
Joel stood behind the counter in a short white coat with a high collar. His resemblance to Raizel is uncanny, Dovid thought while he waited for Joel to wrap a parcel for a customer. But there was a cold edge to his smile and his eyes glinted with professional politeness as he inclined his head slightly to the customer. Dovid did not see much of Joel whose free time was spent with his rich friends.
‘Congratulations on the birth of your son, David,’ Joel said in English. He was the only one who called him David. ‘My mother told me the grand news this morning. All well?’
‘Thank you,’ Dovid said gruffly. ‘One medium bottle of Vicks please.’
Cold fish. To see the same eyes, the same mouth, all without life or warmth. Her eyes… My God, he thought in desperation. Is there no escape from this obsession?
There were five other women in the ward with Sheinka. She was lying back on the pillows, pale, with dark rings under her eyes. She began to cry when Dovid sat down beside her.
‘I said terrible things last night, Dovid,’ she began. ‘But it was my uncertainty, my fear talking, not me. You’ve been so distant lately.’
‘I’m sorry I raised my hand to you, Sheinka,’ he answered staring down at the pattern on the bed cover. ‘And at such a time.’
‘If only you would speak to me more. You’ve been such a stranger.’
‘Shah, shah. Don’t upset yourself. Let’s talk of other things. How’s the baby?’
‘All rumpled and red like new-born babies are. But Dovid, it’s true. You never speak to me.’
‘I try, Sheinka, but as soon as I come home you begin to complain about your piles, about the blood you spit up, about your senna pods. What can I say that will match this morbid interest you have in your health?’
‘You see, you don’t believe that I’m sick.’ She began to cry again.
‘Sheinka,’ Dovid patted her arm, ‘This is not the time for tears. Tell me more about the…our baby.’
‘He’s big and healthy the doctor said. And he’s got lots of black hair. Maybe that’s why I had such heartburn…’ She broke off abruptly.
They were silent for a while, then she started to cry.
‘What is it, Sheinka?’ he asked fighting down his irritation.
‘The nurses took away my Vicks. If they find the new bottle they’ll take that too. Hide it, Dovid. And tell them I must have it because of my weak lungs. I can’t explain in English.’
At that moment a robust woman in white marched into the ward. She came across to Sheinka’s bed.
‘Mr. Erlich? Good. Perhaps you’ll understand. Your wife has the unfortunate habit of rubbing Vicks into her chest as you no doubt know. She’s a big healthy girl and doesn’t need it. She’ll be able to breast feed for months and months, but if she persists in using Vicks she’ll suffocate the poor mite. Try to dissuade her from using it. I assure you she’ll survive.’
Dovid sat out the whole visit persuading Sheinka not to fret over the loss of her Vicks.
‘Goodbye,’ he said bending over and kissing her on the forehead. ‘I’m not coming back tonight because Gittel is going to bioscope with Berka and Yenta. Ruth’ll be alone.’
‘Dovid,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Dovid, promise me one thing.’
He waited apprehensively as she blew her nose loudly.
‘Anything reasonable,’ he said cautiously.
‘Give up your English lessons,’ she said. ‘And I’ll change. I’ll… I’ll try to be well, as well as it is possible for me to be. I know how my illnesses irritate you.’
All expression left his face. He looked down at her pale bloated face on which two red patches had appeared over the cheekbones.
‘It’s not important to me,’ he said quietly. ‘If you want it so badly, I’ll have no more English lessons.’
By the time he came home he felt drained, as though he had given birth to the baby. He found Ruth sitting among the crushed stones in the garden, examining them with great interest.
‘Have you lost something, Ruthie?’
‘No, I’m looking for something.’ She glanced up at him and asked gravely. ‘What colour hair has the baby got?’
‘What are you looking for, Ruth?’
‘Gold,’ she replied putting a stone into a brown paper bag. ‘Zeide Berchik says these stones come from the mine. I’ve already found some with gold that they forgot to take out.’
Dovid leaned over and stroked her hair.
‘And what are you going to do with the gold?’
‘I’ll give some to Bobbe Yenta to buy a chemist shop for Joel, and some to Bobbe Gittel for rent, and some to you to send my Bobbe in Ragaza. And with the rest I’ll buy lots of pink ice cream from Mr. Schumacher.’
Dovid kissed her. Fool’s gold had become an invaluable metal. And only last night Sheinka had said that the child did not understand.
7
When Berka looked out of his bedroom window towards dusk he saw Benjamin pacing the pavement. Now and again he would peer into the sky, then resume his ungainly vigil.
‘What’s that lunatic doing?’ he asked Yenta. ‘Praying?’
‘He’s waiting for the first star that will end the sabbath,’ she laughed. ‘He wants a cigarette.’
‘The holy man,’ Berka said. ‘Have you been outside to the lavatory today? It’s full of cigarette butts and smoke. Raizel doesn’t smoke, Joel doesn’t smoke and I smoke a pipe. Holy man,’ he repeated, pulling on his best trousers.
Yenta felt affectionate towards Berka. When Benjamin had come in from shul the previous evening Berka had greeted him, gruffly, it must be said, but he had greeted him. When he mentioned casually that he had seen Uncle Feldman in shul, Berka dug his fork viciously into his chicken but remained silent. Later that evening when Benjamin told her privately about his conversation with old Feldman, Berka suddenly seemed vulnerable to her. If you repeat a word of this conversation to Joel, she warned her brother, you will never set foot in this house again.
At eight o’clock she and Berka walked over to fetch Gittel. She was waiting at the gate in her blue dress. She protested all the way to the cinema that she should never have come. What would people say? Sheinka lying in hospital; no one to pour a glass of tea for Dovid, the child without a mother and Gittel Levitan goes to bioscope.
‘They’ll say it’s about time that Gittel Levitan went to bioscope,’ Berka said. ‘Why didn’t Raizel come, Yenta? She loves a good show. And there’s a double feature tonight. Tom Mix in the ‘Masked Riders’ then Jeannette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. If she’s determined to be a nun okay, but at least she can go out with her parents.’
‘She’s got a headache, poor girl. Don’t worry. Benjamin will be home early from Rabbi Josselson.’
‘Some company, Benjamin,’ he said leading his wife and sister-in-law into the cinema.
‘So many chairs, such a high ceiling, just like in shul,’ Gittel whispered, awed. ‘It must be difficult to clear away the cobwebs. Look, there’s Avram Stern and his family. They must be wondering what an old woman like me is doing in bioscope. And at such a time.’
‘Sit here beside me, Gittel,’ Berka said. ‘I’ll explain anything you don’t understand.’
‘So dark,’ Gittel said, jumping nervously as the first clash of chords was heard. ‘And such loud music. I can hardly hear the buzzing in my ears.’
‘Those men are robbers,’ Berka explained softly. ‘They’re riding towards the railway line where they plan to hold up the mail train and steal the money.’
Gittel began to cough as soon as the robbers appeared on their horses. They dismounted and hid behind some trees after laying sticks of dynamite on the rails.
‘Someone should tell the train driver,’ Gittel whispered to Berka. ‘A person can get killed like that. Who knows? Maybe there are women and children on the train.’
At that moment the train appeared on the screen, moving rapidly towards the burning dynamite. Gittel sucked in her breath and grabbed Berka’s arm. As the train roared towards the cameras, she cried out loudly and ducked.
It was with great difficulty that Berka persuaded her to remain in the cinema. She kept her eyes averted from the screen but cast sidelong glances at the fighting between Tom Mix’s forces and the robbers. She coughed throughout the film.
At interval Berka took her into the foyer for a drink.
‘Have you got a cold?’ he asked.
‘No, no. It’s all that dust from the horses,’ she said. ‘It got into my throat.’
‘Come Gittel, the dust has subsided,’ he said. ‘You’ll like the main film better. No horses. It’s a pity Raizel didn’t come,’ he said looking up Main Street. ‘To tell the truth, Gittel, I’m a little worried about her. She looks so sad sometimes.’
‘In my opinion, not that it counts, you should marry her off, Berka. Contact Yudaiken the matchmaker. For such a pretty girl you won’t even need a large dowry. She doesn’t meet the right people,’ Gittel hesitated. ‘And she’s with married people too much. Miss Breen writes in the “Americaner” that…’
‘Gittel, are you trying to tell me something?’
‘Yes, no, of course not. Don’t get cross, Berka. Raizel’s a lovely girl but she needs a change, a holiday perhaps. Not that I believe in holidays but for some people it’s good. Maybe it’ll help her, maybe not. Absence, distance, is a great healer. Miss Breen…’
Berka had stopped listening. Gittel, he thought sadly, was becoming senile in that crazy household of hers.
‘…and they lived happily ever after,’ Dovid concluded, closing Grimm’s fairy tales. ‘Did you like that story?’ he asked Ruth.
‘I’m sorry for the ugly sisters. I like your stories and Zeide Berchik’s stories best, even if they don’t live happily ever after. Tattele, let’s go to Schumacher’s for an ice cream.’
It was a cool evening and the smell of Burger’s honeysuckle filled the air. Such a big rough-looking man, Dovid thought as he and Ruth approached the Burgers’ house. And such eyes. Their veranda was in darkness but a faint light shone through the frosted glass door. When Jan had stepped out of the bar the day before, his presence seemed to fill the street. Raizel should never have accepted his flowers. The girl was a flirt; she was encouraging his advances.
‘Annatjie lives here,’ Ruth whispered. ‘She’s also starting school on Monday. I said hello to her yesterday and she said hello back. From my hello she couldn’t tell that I don’t speak English properly. Maybe she’ll be my friend,’ she added, trailing a finger lightly along the fence where the honeysuckle grew.
Raizel sat reading in the large cane chair, her feet tucked under her. A mere child and how harshly he judged her. She was simple, naive, and really believed that life was as uncomplicated as her novelettes. Man meets woman, they fall in love, have difficulties which are miraculously resolved and live happily ever after, like in fairy tales.
Ruth climbed onto the fence and called out: ‘Raizel, my tatteh is going to buy me an ice-cream. Come, he’ll buy you one too.’
Raizel looked up, startled. She glanced at Dovid who stood at the gate. He did not repeat the invitation.
‘No thanks, Ruthie. I don’t like ice-cream.’
‘You don’t like ice-cream?’ Ruth echoed incredulously.
‘Come along,’ Dovid offered belatedly. ‘If you like that is,’ he added, glancing involuntarily towards Mrs. Pinn’s house.
‘If I dare to, you mean. And fall into Mrs. Pinn’s black pit of a mouth.’
The mere child gave way to a mocking woman.
‘No thanks, Ruthie. I don’t like ice-cream.’
‘Then stay,’ he said angrily, as though she’d refused a gracious invitation. He pulled Ruth off the fence and walked away quickly.
With whom was he angry? Dovid put his trembling hands into his pockets. With Mrs. Pinn? With Raizel? Only with himself. He was afraid of the neighbours. No sooner had Sheinka gone into labour, they’d say, than Dovid began chasing after Raizel Feldman, using his daughter as a screen. Taking them for ice-cream. Indeed. Dovidke the hypocrite. He wanted to walk beside her in the
dark of the summer’s evening, enjoying her closeness…
Dovid caught his breath. His yearning began as an ache in the heart and spread all over his body, leaving him weak and breathless.
He loves her, Dovid Erlich the hypocrite. He loves her so much that as he walks up First Avenue saying good evening to this one and that one, accepting congratulations on the birth of his son, replying about the health of his wife, he can think of nothing but Raizel’s soft white arms and the fresh scent of her hair. He wants to abandon his daughter to the dark streets of Mayfontein, as he solicitously enquires after Mrs. Hirshman’s cats, and rush back to Raizel’s veranda, kiss the contemptuous smile off her lips and crush her against him in view of a thousand Mrs. Pinns who might be lurking behind the lace curtains.
‘I’m mad,’ Dovid stopped to catch his breath as they approached Main Street. ‘I’m a raving lunatic. From where do such thoughts come!’
‘I’m tired, tatteh,’ Ruth said following him breathlessly. ‘You’re walking too fast.’
Dovid bent down and kissed the top of her head, holding her against him as though to draw into himself her innocence and purity. Taking her by the hand he turned slowly into Main Street, breathing evenly in an effort to quieten his thumping heart.
But he could not throw off his feeling of rapture. He smiled happily at the people strolling in Main Street. Everyone was his friend.
‘Ah,’ he overheard Hershl say to Faigel after he had greeted them joyously, ‘the birth of a son has made him happy at last.’
He bought the ice cream for Ruth, went through the motions of paying, talking and shaking hands with the Schumachers, then returned to First Avenue like a sleep-walker. As they approached Berka’s house Ruth said she was thirsty.