by Rebekah Pace
“So I must say I am going to Okinawa to get to Shanghai?”
“Yes—but you’ll go to Shanghai first. It’s like a free pass into the country—and it’s good for a hundred and forty-four hours. Six days. Clock starts at midnight the day following your entry into the country.”
Six days. I rubbed my chin. Could I find Mira in only six days?
“That will give you a good long visit with your lady friend. If I book everything today, I can have you on the ground in Shanghai by the end of next week, Pete.”
“Well, in that case, a cruise it is. Please.”
“I can get you on a nonstop out of Newark to Shanghai. Do you fly often?”
“Never have I been in an airplane. In former times I am coming here to America on a ship. Since I was being a teenager, I have not been anywhere but New Jersey.”
“You’re sure about doing this? If you’ve never been anywhere . . .” She scratched her head and stared at the screen. “Definitely the nonstop option then.”
“Whatever you are figuring out is fine with me. I will do whatever I must.”
“All right.” She looked as though she was about to break bad news to me. “The total—including the expedited passport, flight to Shanghai, a hotel for six nights, and the cruise—comes to five thousand two hundred and eighty-four dollars.”
I’d never spent that much money at one time. My chest felt so tight I had trouble breathing from the excitement. I was on my way to find Mira! I pulled a stack of bills out of my jacket pocket, and as soon as Lucille spotted the cash, she jumped up from her chair, locked the door, and closed the blinds.
“Pete, you didn’t really walk over here carrying that much cash?”
“No. I am coming in a cab.”
“Either way you must have lost your mind!” We fell silent. I think we were both wondering if I really had lost my mind.
I counted five thousand three hundred dollars onto the desk. Her hand trembled as she picked up the stack and counted it again. She had to get her purse and give me the sixteen dollars change out of her wallet. “Most people use credit cards these days.”
“Never had one.”
“You should get one for this trip. It’s easier to carry a card than cash.” She didn’t call me a relic and make fun of me the way my landlady did. I appreciated that.
“Yes, I am thinking so. There are many things I am needing before I’m ready to go. Can you help me making a list?”
Lucille grabbed a notepad off her desk and a pen from the mug by her computer and started writing. “Okay, first things first, you’ll need a debit card. Also a cell phone, a money belt”—she eyed my outfit— “and some new clothes for traveling.”
When we finished, Lucille called a cab to take me home. Outside, I caught sight of my reflection in one of the few shop windows that wasn’t boarded up. Mira wouldn’t know this old, withered version of me. Would I recognize her?
Overhead, I watched a plane bank as it approached the runway and felt a rush of fear sweep over me. What if flying made me feel sick? How long would it take to get to Shanghai? I’d read about how planes stay up in the air in my physics textbook, but the knowledge did little to quell the nervous flutter in my stomach.
26
The eight days before I could leave stretched in front of me like an eternity. After the cab dropped me off at home, I went to see Benny. I hadn’t forgiven him for siccing Miss Richter on me, but I was going to have to ask him for a favor. He looked up when the bell jingled and blew out an angry breath as he came around the counter.
“What’s going on with you, Pete? Where did you go in that cab?”
“To ask Miss Richter on a movie date.”
“Quit kidding around. I’m worried about the way you’ve been acting lately.”
“I am needing to get new clothes.”
“What for?”
“What are you meaning what for? To wear on my date with Miss Richter.”
“All right, fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. But you ain’t gonna find the kind of suit you’d want in this neighborhood.” He considered for a moment. “Out on the highway, there’s a place. It’s too far to walk, though. You in a rush?”
“Soon. Tomorrow maybe.”
“You plan on going somewhere?”
“Yes. I am already telling you.”
His voice lost its humorous tone. “Hang on, man. Did you go to the doctor? You get some bad news? You’re not checking out, are you?”
“I’m not dying. Oy vey, it’s just time I am buying new clothes. That’s all.”
“I can drive you tomorrow. Valeria can watch the store for a while.”
“Yes. Very good.”
“You come by about three, huh?”
***
That night, I dreamed I could hear Mira calling me, but I couldn’t find her. Our dream world had vanished, but her voice stretched out to me through the darkness, repeating my name, over and over. I woke up anxious, wishing my trip wasn’t still a week away.
The next afternoon at quarter to three, I left for the bodega. Benny’s wife, Valeria, had come in to run the store, and I bought two chocolate bars from her. “I appreciate you letting me borrow Benny. I am sorry to be causing trouble. Where is your little boy?”
“Benito is spending the afternoon with my mom. We’re glad to be able to help you out, Pete.” When she smiled up at Benny, I saw the same light in her eyes I’d seen in Mira’s. “The music box is beautiful, by the way. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift.” She squeezed my hand.
Benny kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll be back in a few hours, babe.”
On the way to the car, I wondered if he felt the same surge of love I’d felt for Mira when he touched Valeria.
Benny’s car wasn’t new, but it was clean on the inside. He pulled the seatbelt around me and clicked me in before starting the engine, as if I were a child. I wished I could show him my Mercedes and take him for a ride.
“How far is it?” I raised my voice over the noise on the radio.
He grinned and turned it down a little. “Half an hour, maybe a little more.”
I passed him a chocolate bar. “For the trip.”
He tore off the wrapper. “Thanks, man.”
He finished his before we reach the highway. I nibbled mine, using it to distract myself from my fear of being in traffic. Cars and trucks rushed through my neighborhood all the time, but I don’t like to go that fast. My scalp prickled and my hands and feet started to sweat as Benny accelerated up the ramp and cut over into the high-speed lane. I shrank away from the vehicles that whizzed along inches from my window.
I took another bite of chocolate and closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, the car in front of us was so close I let out an involuntary yelp.
“I got you, man. No worries.”
“I am not being used to so much traffic.”
Benny barely touched the brake as we took an exit ramp and merged into traffic on the Garden State Parkway. I’d just started to believe I was going to die before I could leave for Shanghai when he slowed the car and turned into the menswear store’s parking lot.
Inside the store—oy vey—I didn’t know how to choose from so many clothes. One of the salesmen greeted us, and as he glanced from Benny to me, he seemed to be wondering about our relationship. I suppose I could have been Benny’s great-grandfather.
“I am needing new clothes for a trip.”
Benny, in his fatigue jacket, T-shirt, and faded jeans, looked as out of place as I did in this store, and he stayed out of the way, arms folded, as the salesman measured me with his eyes and pulled trousers and jackets from the racks.
“Shirts?”
“Long sleeve, please.”
“Neckties?”
“Two.”
“Shoes? Socks?”
<
br /> I threw up my hands. “Sure.”
When I finished shopping a few hours later, I stood in front of the triple mirror in a pair of khakis and a blue button-down shirt, leather belt, and a new pair of socks and shoes, too. I looked like the kind of grandfather who takes the whole family out for brunch, not some lonely old schlump.
I asked the salesman, “I am thinking I will wear this home, all right?”
“Of course, sir.” As he clipped the price tags, I looked at the tattoos covering his forearms. Seemed like everybody had tattoos these days, but mine wasn’t the kind I’d want to show off. I kept my cuffs buttoned instead of rolling them up, as he did.
“Should I put the clothes you wore here in the shopping bag?” He folded my threadbare pants and shirt neatly, but they looked like rags next to my purchases on the counter.
“No, I am thinking you can just throw those out, please.”
Benny’s eyes widened when I counted out the cash to pay. That was when his cell phone rang. After a few seconds of rapid-fire conversation in Spanish, Benny disconnected the call. “Pete, we gotta go.” He gathered up my shopping bags and was halfway to the door before the salesman gave me my change.
“Benny, what is wrong?” I shoved the money in my pocket as I hustled after him.
He held the door for me with his elbow. “The bodega got robbed again. Valeria, she—they took her to the hospital.” He loaded me into the car and shoved the bags in after me.
“Is she going to be all right?” I struggled with the seatbelt as the tires squealed.
“I don’t know. I just need to get to her.” He drove so fast I couldn’t do anything but hang on. We were flying around the exit ramp, just minutes from home, before I had the courage to say, “I am very sorry. It is being my fault she was there.”
“No, it’s not your fault. Bad stuff happens.” We screeched to a halt in front of the bodega. Two cop cars were out front, and crime-scene tape blocked the door. Benny hurried around to open my door and gather my shopping bags. I was barely out of the car when he thrust them into my hands.
“I can be going with you to the hospital if you need me.”
“No, thanks. This is a family matter.”
“Yes, yes. I understand. You go to Valeria. My best wishes to her.” He ran back around the car and took off. My shoulders sagged as I watched him go. No matter what he said, I felt responsible for what had happened, and I was ashamed of the surge of envy I felt. Benny had only to drive a few miles to be with his love when she needed him.
I unlocked the door to my building, and as I headed for the stairs, Mrs. Simmons poked her head out of her apartment. “Excuse me, Sir? Can I help you?”
“It is just me.” I turned around.
“Well excuse me, Mr. Ibbetz. I didn’t recognize you.”
“Is all right.” I plodded upstairs.
***
The robbery got a mention on the news that evening, and the next day, Benny wasn’t around. The bodega remained closed, with the crime-scene tape across the door.
When I got out the cardboard suitcase I’d had since leaving the DP camp to pack my clothes, I realized the fragile, crumbling case would never stand the trip.
I called Lucille for advice, and she offered to come by in an hour to take me shopping for a new one. I was waiting outside when she pulled up in a car that was a rusted-out piece of junk.
As I hesitated on the sidewalk, she called, “Don’t worry, honey. It may not look like much, but it gets me where I need to go.” When I got in, she reached across me to slam the passenger door closed. “Takes a special touch. But I never worry about it getting damaged. People drive like maniacs in the city, you know.”
She hit the gas, and I held on as the car rattled down the street. I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking lot of one of those department stores that advertise brand name merchandise at discount prices. When we went inside, Lucille headed straight for the luggage section.
***
“I am liking this one.” I pointed out a black canvas suitcase on an upper shelf.
“Let me get it down for you, honey.” She reached for it.
I felt bad to have a lady lift something off a shelf for me, but it was surprisingly light. “How much clothes will I fit in here?”
“You’ll be surprised how much. Look, this zipper expands the space.” She demonstrated, and then pushed a button on top of the bag. “And here’s the handle. You should get a smaller one to carry on the plane, too. It’s a good idea to take a change of clothes, a book, and your toothbrush with you on a long flight.” She picked a matching bag and handed it to me. “Voila!”
I liked the new bags so much I took them for a spin up and down the aisle and executed a fancy turn that would have made Mira proud.
She put her hands on her hips. “Pete, don’t get carried away. You’re not done until you’ve got a new wallet and a money belt. And compression socks. Follow me.”
It all added up to two hundred and fifty bucks. Money was slipping through my fingers like water.
When we finished shopping, Lucille insisted I open a bank account and get a debit card. “You need to be able to access your money while you’re overseas.”
“This I am never doing before.”
“Do you have some cash on hand you could deposit?”
“I am not trusting the banks—this money might be stolen.”
“No, honey. They changed that a long time ago. Your deposit is insured up to two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded. “All right. Then that is all I will deposit. Not a penny more. The rest is staying hidden.”
I thought Lucille’s eyes were going to bug out of her head. “But you don’t have to put in that much. In fact, you shouldn’t. Banks have to report deposits over ten thousand dollars to the government. There are forms to fill out. It’s kind of a pain.”
“Oh. Are you thinking nine thousand is being enough?”
“Sure, Pete. That should be plenty for a two-week trip.” She drove me back to my place and carried a tire iron upstairs to guard the door while I counted out stacks of bills from under the floorboard.
When we left the bank an hour later, I had a plastic charge card in my wallet instead of that bag of cash. Lucille made me practice using the card at the automated teller outside the building until I learned to key in the numbers and make it spit my money out. She said that was how I would get money to spend in Shanghai. Oy vey, so many things to remember.
Once I could go through the steps without her prompting, we went inside the bank and got in line to redeposit what I’d withdrawn.
“What’s the money in Shanghai called? Deutsch marks and dollars are all I am knowing.”
She whipped out her phone, keyed in something and squinted at the screen. “Renminbi. Heck of a thing to pronounce, ain’t it?”
“I used to think Weequahic was hard to pronounce, too.”
“So, what are you going to do when you lay eyes on your Mira?” She gave me a conspiratorial nudge with her elbow.
“When I see her, I guess I will know.”
27
Jacob’s recording device sat on my kitchen table, surrounded by all the things I’d bought to take on the trip. Mira had once predicted I’d be a sound engineer and work in broadcasting. Even though I liked repairing old radios, I hadn’t cared to learn about more recent technology. It was amazing that a tiny recorder like this could preserve the stories I’d never been able to share.
When I turned it on, I made believe I was speaking to Mira, though in reality I’d never want to burden her with these memories. Perhaps it had been for the best that we could not speak of what we’d experienced during the war.
The memories were snapshots, flashes. My voice shook as they spilled forth
like black bile from the depths of my soul.
***
“At Theresienstadt, the SS is telling parents of young children that the Allies will exchange German prisoners for Jewish children. Many parents jumped at the chance to give their children freedom and sent them off to be traded. But it was a lie, and the children were taken to extermination camps instead. Shortly after, the parents of those children were also silenced, so no word of this cruel deception would spread. Perhaps they did this over and over.”
I turned off the tape and wept at my memory of the faces of those parents, so hopeful as they waved goodbye to their little ones. I blew my nose and turned the recorder back on.
“When I was arriving at Auschwitz, suddenly I am an orphan, no longer with my father to protect me. I am at the dangerous age between child and man. I did not want to be perceived by the SS as too young to be useful, but neither did I want to be worked to death.”
In my mind, I walked the train platform, jostled by the crowd, mindful of the SS who herded us forward with billy clubs and rifle butts. To the left, to be gassed. To the right, to be worked to death.
“Inside the gates, when I first caught sight of the half-naked, living skeletons that inhabited the camp, I could not stop trembling. I had never been taught of hell, but I knew I had arrived by the corpses strewn everywhere. The smell, I cannot describe. Never was I getting used to it.
“Some had died where they fell, too exhausted to take another step. The bodies of those who were electrocuted as they tried to escape through the barbed wire were left there, tangled and dangling, to remind the rest of us that there was no way out.”
I wished I could remember it in black and white, like photographs or newsreel footage, instead of in color.
“Anyone with gold teeth was shoved to the left and gassed right away, and their teeth harvested as trophies. I was knowing one man in my barracks whose job it was to pull the teeth before he put the bodies in the crematory. Even though he was getting extra rations and special treatment, just before the liberation, he went mad—and they shot him dead.”
I stopped the recorder again, wishing I had names or dates to share to prove these things that sounded too awful to be true.