by Meryl Ain
“I love reading,” Becky had told the twins a few days after their birthday party. “And I want you to love reading too. I want you to keep a list of every book you read this summer.”
The twins readily agreed. Then she gave each of them a pink leatherette book with lined pages. On the cover was a girl with a ponytail, wearing an oversized button-down shirt with dungarees rolled up at the cuffs, bobby sox, and saddle shoes.
“Oh, I love the book. It’s so pretty,” said JoJo.
“Thank you, Aunt Becky,” said Bronka, thinking that Aunt Becky must be the kindest, smartest, most generous person in the world. She was so thrilled to have a youthful aunt, who instinctively knew what she wanted.
“I want you to put the name of each book you read in this notebook and the date when you finish it. Look at my notebook. I’ve kept it for years.”
They thumbed through Becky’s black marble notebook; it was the type they used in school, not like the trendy, pretty ones she had gotten for them. They saw pages and pages of lists in her practically illegible handwriting. She pointed out that she had recorded the names of the books and the dates she had read them.
“I started this when I was in high school, and I continued it even when I was in Israel. That’s why some of the writing is in Hebrew. And I’m still adding to it.”
When Lenore and Becky returned from the city at about seven o’clock, Faye had already given the three girls dinner.
“The show was great,” said Lenore. “The music and dancing were incredible.”
“Yes, it was wonderful,” said Becky. “We really should take the girls to a Broadway show some time.”
Faye was delighted that Becky now not only had a girlfriend, but one who was willing to set her up with a date. She knew it meant that she was probably not going to move out anytime soon, but as long as she was stable and happy, Faye would make the situation work.
“Okay, Mindy, it’s time to go. Say good-bye to Bronka and JoJo, and thank Faye and Judy for giving you dinner.
“Oh, and tomorrow when I go back to work,” Lenore added. “I’m going to check with personnel to see if there’s a job for you at the hospital, Becky.”
“That would be great, thank you, Lenore.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Faye asked her daughter.
“No thanks, we had a big brunch, and then we grabbed a bite after the theater. I think I’m just going to get into bed and read.”
The rest of the family gathered in the living room at eight o’clock to watch The Ed Sullivan Show. When it was just about over, Judy said, “Girls, it’s time for bed; it’s almost nine. Let’s go upstairs.” As Judy escorted the twins upstairs right before The Dinah Shore Show began, Faye decided to check on Becky.
She knocked on the door to her room and entered. Becky’s face had an expressionless look, which alarmed Faye. She had seen that look before, but she’d always interpreted it as loneliness. In the past, Faye rationalized that Becky was just a high-strung, moody girl. Sometimes she chalked it up to her menstrual cycle. It was true that Becky had experienced a nervous breakdown in college, but Faye told herself that if there were really a problem, Rebecca wouldn’t have been able to finish college, and get a job—or be settled on the kibbutz for years. Didn’t that make her normal? Yet a still, small voice in her head knew better. There was something not quite right with her daughter.
“So how was your big day in the city? Did you like your blind date?”
Becky did not answer; neither did she make eye contact with Faye.
“I thought you had a nice day with Lenore; at least that’s the impression I got when you both came back.”
Becky still did not answer. She lay in bed and had now turned her head and body toward the wall, away from Faye.
“Don’t you want to take a shower?” said Faye. “It must have been hot and sticky in the city.”
“I don’t remember what the weather was today,” said Becky.
“Did you like the young man? Will you see him again?”
“I don’t think so. He might be a secret agent. I understand they hide out in Bellerose. I’m hearing that Judy is working with the Russians. Don’t be fooled by her.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where did you get such an idea?”
“I have connections. She’s not to be trusted. Watch out for her.”
“Becky, that’s pure nonsense. Judy has been living here for six years, and she is the sweetest, kindest person I know. What are you talking about?
“I know what I know. I hear what I hear. I have it on good authority that she is not what she seems. She’s spying on all of us.”
Exasperated and exhausted from the conversation, Faye saw no point in continuing the dialogue.
“Dinah Shore is on. Do you want to come out and watch it with us?
“What day is today?” asked Becky.
“Today is Sunday, all day. You knew it was Sunday because Lenore was off work, and she got you a date for the matinee. I told you we always watch Ed Sullivan and Dinah Shore on Sunday night. You said to let you know when Dinah Shore was on.”
“Did I say that? I don’t remember.”
Then Becky pulled the pillow around her head and over her ears to block out her mother’s voice.
Faye walked out of the room. Dejected, she went back into the living room. How long could she continue to ignore Becky’s outlandish comments and behavior? I really don’t think she’s just saying these things to push my buttons. It sounds like she believes them.
“You know Dinah’s Jewish?” she heard Izzy say.
Faye sat down on the sofa and decided that she would not mention Becky’s behavior to anyone. She hadn’t uttered a word about Becky’s suggestion that Hitler had poisoned the hamburgers at the party. Maybe her daughter was just suffering from exhaustion or stress. Perhaps if she ignored it, it would go away. Perhaps if she just gave her as much love and care as she could, she would be able to heal her.
Why annoy Izzy even more? He didn’t like having Becky around anyway. He thought she was spoiled and lazy and an intellectual snob. Why alarm Judy and Aron? They might decide to move out of the house if they were fully aware of Becky’s erratic conduct. Why rock the boat? The girls seemed to like Becky, and she seemed to be a good influence on them. They were reading up a storm.
If she opened her mouth now to the family, she could jinx everything. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that this had little to do with jinxing. Her intuition told her that this was only the start of trouble. Actually, if she were honest with herself, it probably wasn’t really the beginning either. The trouble might have begun with Becky’s original postcard from Israel or her surprise telephone call from the airport. Or maybe it had started when Becky ran off to Israel—or perhaps even before that.
As the show ended, Dinah Shore sang:
“See the USA in your Chevrolet,
America’s asking you to call.
Drive your Chevrolet through the USA.
America’s the greatest land of all.”
At that moment, Faye felt like getting into that Chevrolet Dinah was singing about and driving it as far away as she could. If only she knew how to drive!
By the time school started in September, the twins had read eleven books, including Charlotte’s Web, One Hundred and One Dalmatians, and Cinderella. They also enjoyed the popular series of the day, including Henry Huggins and Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. In addition, they developed a taste for female sleuths Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden. They recorded everything they read in their pink ponytail notebooks, and when she was up to it, discussed the books with Aunt Becky. She encouraged them to try and write their own stories too. Bronka took to the task with great enthusiasm, while JoJo was more interested in practicing her singing. Lenore had gotten a job interview for Becky in the public relations department of the hospital. It was a part-time job, three days a week from one to five.
“They’re looking for someone who is a good writer,” Lenore h
ad told Becky. “Your job is to draft press releases. The head of the public relations department is Helen First. She’s very vivacious and dynamic and handles all the interfacing with the public. She was a PR person in the army. She needs someone to just help with the writing. That’s the only job they have now; if you’re interested, I can arrange an interview. But look, the hospital is growing, and it might develop into something bigger. If you think it’s not up your alley, I understand.”
Faye pushed her fears out of her head when Lenore mentioned the job. Becky had now been living with them since the end of June, and Faye had witnessed her daughter’s cyclical bouts of depression, memory loss, and lack of concentration. She constantly overslept—often until two or three in the afternoon. And once awake, she sometimes failed to comb her hair or brush her teeth. There were days when she sat down for dinner in her nightgown. She was suspicious of the mailman, saying his uniform was meant to hide the fact that he was actually a spy. She was convinced that the cashier at Dan’s Supreme was a thief, out to steal her money. Her observations were becoming more and more outrageous. The adults in the house had begun to notice. Faye suspected the girls too were also becoming aware of Becky’s unusual behavior. But it came and went.
Of course, Faye knew that she had covered up the worst of it—and who knew what was to come? But maybe a part-time job was the answer. At least, she would be forced to get out of bed to be there by one o’clock. She would have a place to go and would feel productive. Maybe it would even lead to her getting her own place. Maybe the structure would be a good thing.
The day of Becky’s interview, she showered, applied a bit of rouge, mascara, and lipstick, and dressed in a blue suit and high heels, which made her look professional. When she headed for the bus stop, Faye was pleased that she appeared lucid and alert.
A few hours after the scheduled interview, Helen popped into Lenore’s office.
“Lenore, your friend never showed up for the interview. She didn’t call to cancel either; do you know what happened?”
“Don’t have a clue,” Lenore said. But, of course, Lenore had more than a suspicion.
“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “She sounded like quite a find—a Smith graduate, with a degree in English Lit.”
“I’ll find out.”
But Lenore had no intention of asking. Some things were too good to be true. Helen did PR for a living; she should know that.
By fifth grade, the girls no longer had bus service to school. New York City regulations permitted students who lived one mile or more from school to have transportation. But 253rd Street was nine-tenths of a mile from the school, so all the children on their street had to either walk or be driven by their parents.
Izzy had a car, which he seldom drove, and Faye did not drive at all. Since he was out of the house by six-thirty, he was generally not available to chauffeur the girls to school. Neither Aron nor Judy had learned how to drive; they had decided it was unnecessary because they could walk or use public transportation to go to the few places they needed to go.
So JoJo and Bronka either had to walk to and from school, or be driven by the neighbors. Most mornings, Irv Rosen would drive his daughters and JoJo and Bronka to school before work. When the weather permitted, they all walked home together. They generally got a ride in inclement weather.
“You know your friend Esther’s father was at our house over the weekend,” said Tina to the twins who were in the back seat with her and her sister.
“Yes,” said Toni, who was a year younger than her sister. “He and dad were in the darkroom together.”
“Girls,” said Irv sternly. “I told you not to mention that to anyone. And here you are right out of the gate, yapping about it.”
It had taken Jakob Zilberman the entire summer to muster the courage to contact Irv Rosen about the photo Irv had snapped at the twins’ birthday party of the presumed Nazi murderer. Jakob did not want anyone to know he had come to see Irv, especially because he had not told his wife. He also knew that the Lubinskis never discussed their wartime experiences with anyone. He would not be surprised if the twins knew nothing.
“Sorry, Dad,” said Tina. “We won’t say another word.”
“You better not say another word, or you’ll be in big trouble.”
The following Saturday afternoon after the twins had gone to synagogue services with their parents, they went to call for the Rosen girls.
Tori came to the door.
“We’re on our way to confession. If you want, you can walk with us to Our Lady of the Blessed Angels. You can’t confess because you’re not Catholic, but you can wait outside while we go in, and then we’ll all walk back to the house and you can play with Tina and Toni.”
The girls nodded their heads in acquiescence to the plan.
“You know,” said Tori to her younger sisters as the five girls began the six-block walk. “You have to confess that you disobeyed Dad by mentioning his meeting with Mr. Zilberman. It was supposed to be a secret, and you know how upset Mom was with you.”
Irv had told Connie about the incident that evening when he returned from work, and she had given the girls a tongue-lashing, explaining that what they heard at home stayed at home. Tori had overheard the yelling and had thought the punishment of not watching TV for one day was too lenient.
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Tina. “But I don’t know why Dad got so angry or why it’s such a big secret that he took a picture of a murderer. He takes pictures of criminals all the time. And he doesn’t hide them from us.”
“I think it’s because it had something to do with Hitler and the Nazis,” said Toni.
“Who’s Hitler? Who are the Nazis?” Bronka wanted to know.
“They were in power in Germany during the war and they tried to take over Europe and kill all the Jews,” Tori explained.
“Why?” asked JoJo.
“Because he was a madman, and he hated the Jews.”
“The Zilbermans were in a concentration camp,” said Tori with the superiority of a knowledgeable seventh grader. “Don’t you know about this? How do you not know about this? Aren’t your parents refugees from Europe?”
“Sure,” said JoJo. “Can’t you tell my father wasn’t born in America? That’s why he has such a funny accent and doesn’t know how to dress. I’ve told him a million times that checks and stripes don’t go together, but he doesn’t listen.”
Tina and Toni laughed, but Bronka didn’t like her father being the butt of jokes.
“Dressing has nothing to do with it,” said Tori, the older fashion maven. “Your mother dresses like a normal person.”
“The Zilbermans have tattoos on their arms,” said Toni. “Do your parents have tattoos?”
“We’ve never seen any,” said JoJo.
The girls reached the church, and the Rosen sisters went inside, leaving JoJo and Bronka sitting on the brick steps in front of the door with the crucifix.
“Why do you think Mama and Papa never mentioned Hitler or the Nazis to us?” Bronka asked JoJo.
“I don’t know,” said JoJo. “I think either they didn’t want us to know about it or it’s not true.”
“Why would the sisters make up a story like that?” Bronka asked. “The things they tell us are usually true. And Tori talked about it too. Their father is in the news business, and they find out a lot of stuff from him.”
“Well Santa Claus isn’t true, and hell isn’t true,” JoJo said.
“Santa Claus and hell are true for Catholics, but not for us,” Bronka said, parroting her mother. But as the words came out of her mouth, she felt confused. How could there be different truths for different people? Wasn’t there just one truth?
“That doesn’t make sense,” said JoJo. “Should we ask Mama or Papa about Hitler and the Nazis?”
“I don’t know,” said Bronka. “I don’t know why, but I have a feeling like maybe we shouldn’t. I’m almost positive they don’t have tattoos. But let’s check their arms again and t
hen ask Esther Zilberman what she knows.”
Ten minutes later, the three Rosen sisters rejoined them outside the church after completing their confessions.
Bronka was curious about confession. She was thinking that her friends would not purposely lie because then they would have to confess their lies.
“What happens at confession?” she asked.
“Well first, the priest welcomes you. Then you make the sign of the cross, like this,” Toni said as she crossed herself. “Then you have to say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. And tell him when your last confession was.”
“Who’s Father?”
“Father is the priest,” said Tina, “like my uncle, Father Tony, not like a regular father. Then you list all your sins, like if you missed Mass twice or if you lied, or if you disobeyed your parents.”
“So Toni and I had to confess for disobeying our father because we told about his meeting with Esther’s father.”
“So, what happened after you confessed?”
“I had to say three Hail Marys.”
Now Bronka wasn’t sure. That seemed to be an easy fix for lying. You could just confess, say some prayers, and it was off your conscience. She really didn’t want to think her friends were lying. She would check with Esther about Hitler and the Nazis.
Izzy joked to Aron that every year people would say that the High Holidays were either early or late—they were never on time. In 1957, they were late. The first two days of Rosh Hashanah occurred on September 26 and 27, and Yom Kippur did not take place until October 5.
For Aron, who attended shul just about every day of his life, the holidays were especially poignant, particularly Yom Kippur. The holy day evoked powerful memories. Aron dressed in white, as did the clergy, because he had important responsibilities during the service. It was his job to blow the shofar during Rosh Hashanah services and at the end of the final Yom Kippur service. White signified purity as those assembled came before God to petition for forgiveness. The words and the cadence of the prayers, which Cantor Yudenfreund intoned, transported him back to Kielce before the war. Before Hitler destroyed what had been Poland’s living, breathing, vibrant Jewish community of three million people.