by Meryl Ain
That was easy; all of their friends already had one or more Ginny dolls, eight-inch, hard plastic fashion dolls with jointed walking legs and eyes that opened and closed. It seemed like ages that they had wanted one of those beautiful dolls with a blond or brunette wig in the hairstyles of the day. They were impressed with the dolls’ dresses, made of high-quality fabrics like taffeta, organdy, velveteen, and brocade, some with lace trim. You could also buy accessories separately for them, including shoes, purses, eyeglasses, jewelry, and even a tiny dog.
“A Ginny doll!” the twins answered in unison.
“Well then, a Ginny doll for each of you,” Becky said. “Where do we get them?”
“They have them in the Hobby Shop,” said the girls.
“Okay and I’ll tell you what,” said Becky. “I want to make sure you love them, so I want you to pick them out yourselves. When can we go?”
“Can we go tomorrow, Mama?” said JoJo.
“Whatever is good for Becky,” said Judy. “This is the last week of school and there are half-days for the rest of the week. So whatever works for you, Becky. Just not on Shabbos. You know we don’t go shopping on the Sabbath.”
“Why don’t we go tomorrow?” said Becky.
Bronka could hardly contain herself. Just like that, there was a new relative in the house who was kind and nice and wanted to buy her and JoJo the coveted Ginny dolls. This was like a dream come true.
“Great, Becky,” said Faye. “We’ll all go, and I’ll give you the Grand Tour of the neighborhood on the way to the Hobby Shop.”
“The Hobby Shop is right next to Dan’s,” Faye announced. She had already pointed out a number of the other landmarks in the neighborhood to her daughter. Becky had only visited the neighborhood a couple of times before she left for Israel, so she was unfamiliar with the area.
“Is this where you do your grocery shopping?” asked Becky.
“Yes, it has just about everything we need, except for the kosher meat, which we get at Morty’s.”
“I can do the grocery shopping for you,” offered Becky.
“Whatever you want, Becky,” said Faye.
By offering to do the shopping, Faye wondered if Becky intended to become a permanent fixture in her house. She feared the house was not big enough to contain Becky’s quirks and issues along with the rest of the extended family. But she brushed that thought away. She was trying to live in the moment. She was grateful that Becky was behaving normally, and she was exulting in the sunshine and the excursion with her adopted family.
“I don’t think we need anything right now.”
“Sure, Mom. And what’s that?” She pointed to Jonny’s.
“Oh, it’s a candy store with a soda fountain. There’s a counter and a few tables.”
“Why don’t I take everyone for ice cream there when we’re finished?”
“Yay!” shouted the twins.
The Hobby Shop was a small toy store. In the window were all the popular toys the twins recognized from TV ads. But their eyes were drawn to what was in the display. It was a Ginny doll trunk that was about ten-and-a-half inches high, almost six inches wide, and about six inches deep. It had a pink-and-white metal exterior with brass finish corners. A Ginny doll’s head was painted in white on the pink trunk, and under the head “Ginny” was written in script. Two Ginny dolls—one a brunette and one a blonde—sat on top of the trunk.
“Let’s go in,” Becky said.
Inside, there were even more toys and games. But the twins were on a mission and quickly gravitated to the back where there was a display of Ginny dolls in a glass case. There were brunette ones in yellow, pink, and red dresses with matching bows. There were blonde ones in blue dotted swiss, green velvet, and lavender, trimmed with white lace; their outfits were topped with straw hats.
Mr. Shelton, who owned the store, saw the girls’ enthusiasm for the dolls. Before they could even choose one, he told them he wanted to show them something else. He asked them to close their eyes.
He pointed to the same trunk they had observed in the window, but it was open. The inside of the trunk was lined with pink-and-white polka dot fabric. There were more outfits hung on a rack at the top of the trunk. The doll’s accessories—hats and bows and tiny shoes and handbags and jewelry—were showcased in the drawers, which were lined with pink-and-white tissue paper. Pink ribbons secured the contents of the trunk.
“Oh, isn’t that darling,” said Becky.
JoJo and Bronka had never seen anything like that before. Not even Mindy or the Rosen sisters had one. They had not heard any of their friends mention it. But Judy started to get uneasy. This looked like a very expensive item; they had just met Becky yesterday. This was too much to ask.
“Let’s pick out your dolls, girls,” said Judy. “This is why we came here. Becky is so generous to get you each a Ginny doll for your birthday.”
They returned to the doll case. The abundance of dolls was confusing. They looked at one and then another, seriously considering their choices. Finally, JoJo settled on a blonde doll that everyone said looked like her. She had a blue dotted swiss dress with a crinoline petticoat underneath, blue satin shoes, and white socks with lace. A matching blue bow was affixed to her hair. Bronka chose a brunette with a yellow taffeta dress, black patent leather shoes, white socks, and a straw hat with a yellow flower in it.
“Now what about the trunk?” said Mr. Shelton.
“Let’s take another look at it,” said Becky.
“The dolls are more than enough, Becky,” said Judy. “You are so kind to get them such a wonderful birthday present. They don’t need the trunk; it must be very expensive.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Faye. “I want to look too. Judy, you stay here with the girls.”
Judy was happy to stay out of this discussion. She did not want Becky to be maneuvered into an uncomfortable situation. As it turned out, neither did Faye.
Off in a corner, where Judy and the girls could not hear, Mr. Shelton said, “This trunk will be all the rage this Christmas season; every little girl will want it.”
Faye said, “First thing’s first, how much are the dolls?”
“The dolls are six dollars each.”
“That’s a lot for a doll,” said Faye.
“But look how beautiful they are, and the attention to detail.”
“They are very lovely,” said Faye. “The girls are very excited. So that’s twelve dollars for the two dolls. How much is the trunk?”
“The trunk is $30,” said Mr. Shelton.
“Thirty dollars—that’s a fortune,” said Faye. “You could rent an apartment for that.” Although she knew they had given Aron a bargain, she considered that he paid about that much to Izzy and Faye for his family’s monthly room and board. How could a child’s toy cost that much?
“Not around here,” said Mr. Shelton. “A four-room apartment in Glen Oaks is going for seventy-five dollars a month.”
“So that makes a doll trunk worth almost half a month’s rent?”
“Well, it depends on how much your granddaughters’ happiness is worth to you.”
Faye always loved when people assumed the twins were her granddaughters. It raised her spirits and made her feel validated and whole. But she was determined that Becky should not buy the trunk, even though she was afraid that her daughter would insist on it. It was ridiculously extravagant. She could buy the girls at least five pairs of shoes with thirty dollars. But Rebecca was not responsible with money. She was lucky her father had taken good care of her in his will. She was exulting in being Aunt Becky, and there was no guessing what she would do.
Although Becky never said a word during her mother’s entire interaction with the storeowner, Faye was correct about her daughter’s intentions. Initially, she had been determined to purchase the trunk for the twins. But the more Mr. Shelton and Faye spoke, the more Becky began to hear voices that told her not to buy it. The voices told her that the proprietor had gotten access to her bank account and
knew how much money she had. She began to withdraw into her own mind, listening to the many ways the Hobby Shop owner was spying on her.
After a few minutes, Faye said, “I think we should just take the dolls. The trunk is just too expensive. Do you agree, Becky?”
At first Becky didn’t answer; she was too deep into her own thoughts. Faye asked again, “Are you going to buy the trunk or only the dolls?”
“Definitely not the trunk,” Becky said emphatically, looking at Mr. Shelton with a combination of fear and anger. “Just the dolls.”
Bronka and JoJo were delighted with their new Ginny dolls. They said “thank you” over and over again and hugged and kissed Aunt Becky. Although the beautiful pink trunk would have been lovely, it wasn’t as if they had wanted it for a long time. It was the first they had seen of it.
“I’m going to name my doll Joy,” said JoJo. “What are you going to name your doll, Bronka?”
“Amy,” she said.
Faye and Judy were thrilled to see the girls so happy. But Faye noticed that Becky had become withdrawn. She wasn’t saying a word.
“Are we still going to get ice cream?” asked JoJo.
“Sure, let’s go,” said Faye.
They sat at the counter and ordered ice cream cones. Everyone but Becky, who just wanted a cup of coffee. Bronka could not help noticing the faraway look in her eyes as she stared at her cup of coffee and repetitively stirred it with a teaspoon. Bronka imagined that Aunt Becky had really wanted to give them the trunk, but that Tante Faye and her mother had deterred her. She really didn’t care about the trunk that much, but she liked the thought that her new aunt had wanted to buy it. She loved her new doll, and she loved Aunt Becky too, who had given her and her sister such a special gift. She would do her best to make her happy.
July 4, 1957 burst forth as a glorious day for a barbecue and a tenth birthday party. It was bright and clear and sunshiny with a high of eighty degrees. First thing in the morning, Faye was bustling around the house, tidying up.
“I’m so glad the weather is good,” she announced to anyone within earshot. “I don’t know where I would have put all those people in this house if it rained. But people may still come into the house to use the bathroom. We have to make sure everything is neat and clean.”
The girls and Judy were grabbing a quick muffin, Becky was still sleeping, and Izzy and Aron had gone to the bakery for the morning. It would be a busy morning with customers buying their holiday cakes and desserts.
“How can I help?” Judy asked.
“I really don’t want to wait until the boys come home from the bakery to set up. We’re strong, right? Will you help me move some bridge tables and folding chairs outside? Then we can set everything up. Who knows when they’ll return?”
“Of course,” said Judy.
“Can we help too?” JoJo asked.
“Definitely, I would love your help, especially with the decorations.” Faye had bought red, white, and blue crepe paper streamers and miniature American flags. She also planned to surprise the birthday girls with a cake for each of them. Each one would read Happy Birthday with their name inscribed in red icing. The cakes would also be decorated in red, white, and blue flowers, and there would be a miniature American flag on each one. Judy had insisted that one cake for the two of them was more than enough.
“We’re in the bakery business; don’t be silly,” Faye had said. “If a child isn’t a twin, she gets her own birthday cake every year. Of course, we’ll order two. We can’t have the baker’s kids do with less than everyone else.”
“I have the redwood picnic table and benches outside on the patio, and they seat about six,” she said.
Faye continued her patter. “People are coming at three. I’ll put out some nosherai so they can have something to drink and a nibble when they come. The deli platters are supposed to be delivered at four. I decided to make it easy. Izzy will barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs, and I ordered everything else from Brodsky’s Kosher Deli—cold cuts, potato salad, pickles, and coleslaw.”
If nothing else, Faye was organized, Judy thought.
Aron and Izzy arrived back at the house at two o’clock, and Faye had a fit when Izzy wanted to take a shower.
“I just finished cleaning the bathroom. Now I’ll have to clean it all over again. Anyway, you’re going to be standing at a hot grill. Do you really need to take a shower now?”
Izzy just rolled his eyes and headed into the bathroom.
The guests started arriving promptly at three. By then, Becky was awake and ready to socialize, and the girls were dressed in matching red-and-white party dresses, which Faye had made for them. They wore blue bows in their hair.
Jakob and Eva Zilberman, with their daughter, Esther, and their son, Jeffrey, were the first to arrive. They came bearing gifts—two large identical boxes covered with blue-and-white-striped wrapping paper and a big red bow on each. Eva also held a smaller box. The Zilbermans were a diminutive couple, but their warmth and friendliness made them seem larger. Judy thought it was not surprising that Jakob did so well as a jewelry salesman.
“Welcome,” said Judy. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
“Thank you for including us,” said Eva, who spoke with a thick Yiddish accent and was obviously thrilled to be there. “These are for the girls, and here’s just a little box of candy for you.”
“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you, but it’s unnecessary.”
“We just wanted to thank you for including our whole family. We are so happy to celebrate a double simcha—the Fourth of July and the twins’ birthday. No, it’s a triple simcha—you have twins.”
Everyone laughed.
“Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable over there?” Faye said, as she pointed to the picnic table. “Oh, here’s my daughter, Becky.”
“Becky, these are the Zilbermans, why don’t you get them something to drink?”
As more guests started to arrive with their birthday gifts, Jakob and Eva took a seat at the redwood table with their drinks, and Becky joined them. Esther and Jeffrey went to stand with the twins as they greeted the other kids.
Shortly the Mandelsterns, the Rosens, and the Yudenfreunds arrived at the party. Lenore, Irv, and Sol sat down at the table with the Zilbermans and Becky.
“As soon as the deli platters are delivered, we’ll eat,” Faye announced as she went from group to group. In the meantime, no one seemed to care as they munched on potato chips and pretzels and sipped their drinks. The children were preoccupied with pin the tail on the donkey, which Judy and Claire Yudenfreund were supervising, and some of the other adults were watching. This was followed by a spirited game of musical chairs. The rest of the adults were chatting in little conversational clusters.
At 4:10, the delicatessen order arrived, and Izzy began grilling the hamburgers and hot dogs. The deliveryman walked into the backyard with a huge cardboard box. Faye told him to set the box on the table and handed him a tip. As he began to arrange the platters, Jakob Zilberman suddenly took notice of him and all the color drained from his face.
“What’s the matter?” Cantor Sol asked him. “Are you feeling all right?”
Jakob gasped and stared, his eyes wide open. He said nothing.
“Jakob, are you feeling all right? Do you want to go in and lie down? What’s the matter?”
“No,” he said. “It’s just that I recognize him.”
The man arranging the cold cut platters and bowls of pickles and salads on the table did not look particularly scary to anyone but Jakob. He was wearing a white apron over his clothes and a white cap. He had blond hair styled in a crew cut, and his eyes were light brown. He was about forty-five, and a bit overweight for his five-foot nine-inch frame. Jakob instantly knew his distinctive smirk; one he had seen countless times.
“Where do you know him from?”
“From the camp.”
“Was he a prisoner or a guard?”
“He . . . he was a murde
rer,” stammered Jakob.
Irv Rosen—always on the lookout for a newsworthy photograph, grabbed his camera, which he had brought to capture the birthday festivities. He walked right up to the table and brazenly snapped a picture of the man, who was putting the final touches on the food setup. With the click of the camera, the deli man scurried away. Irv went back to the table.
“I got a photo of him just in case,” said Irv. “Do you really think the deli guy from Brodsky’s is a murderer?”
“I’m almost positive,” said Jakob. “I will never forget that smirk.”
“So, tell us the story,” Irv said.
“Oh, no,” said Eva, she looked at her husband with pleading eyes, and spoke in a loud and anguished voice so everyone at the table could hear.
“This is a party,” she continued. “It’s not appropriate. We will never be invited back here if you have to recount your saga. I’m sure Judy and Aron have harrowing tales too. It’s not a party game to show and tell what happened in the Shoah. You know I never talk about what happened to me to anyone but you.”
She was wearing a white sleeveless blouse and held out her forearm to show a blue tattoo that read A-13852. “I got this memento from Auschwitz, so it’s not that I can ever forget I was there; it’s too upsetting to speak out loud. The memories come to me in nightmares, but I’d rather not share what happened—especially at a simcha. On the other hand, my husband just can’t stop telling his story. Excuse me, I’m going to see how the kids are doing,” she said, leaving the table in a huff.
Jakob Zilberman was a little man whose beaked nose made him look almost birdlike. But he had a big personality, and what was on his mind was often on his tongue.
“Don’t mind Eva,” Jakob said to the others at the picnic table. “She suffered in unimaginable ways. We just handle it differently. She prefers to keep everything to herself—bottled up with a cork that explodes from time to time. My therapy is to tell everyone I know.”
No one at the table could think of another thing to say—even Irv had no more questions. There was dead silence. Jakob’s mind went back to when his family first arrived at Auschwitz, and how he had been the only one not chosen for instant death. That is because I was young and strong, he thought, the guilt still tearing at him. No matter how many years went by, remorse was his constant companion. Perhaps that’s why I need to talk about it, as a way of doing penance. I wish Eva would understand. My parents, brothers, and sisters all died in the gas chamber, and I lived only because I assisted the Germans in their evil deeds.