The Chemist's Shop

by Richard Brumer

  Michael paused. “Eva?”

  “Oh, yes. Are you calling me from Avery Fisher Hall about the rehearsal?”

  “No, Eva, my name is Miklos Rosen and I’m calling because I knew your mother.”

  “I see. Did you know my mother died a few months ago?”

  “Yes, I do know that, and I’m sorry. I’m a pharmacist and had a pharmacy in Oneonta. Your mother filled her prescriptions there, and I learned from one of the staff that she has passed away. It’s a little late, but I’d like to offer my condolences.”

  “Thank you so much, that is very kind of you. I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m expecting a call about my rehearsal. Was there anything else?”

  Michael felt rushed. “Well, I did know your mother, Hilda Sanders, but I also know that you were adopted, and I knew your birth mother. I don’t know what you know about her, but I knew her very well, and I thought you might like to know more about her.”

  “Can you tell me her name?”

  “Yes, it was Ilona.”

  “Oh my God, this is so real and unexpected! Yes, of course, I’d like to know more about her. How did you know her?”

  “Well, it’s a rather long story. Are you getting ready to go out? If this is not a good time to talk, I can call another time.”

  “Oh, no, my other call can wait. Please, I would like to know more.”

  Michael heard her breathing rapidly into the phone. There was a long pause.

  “This is so strange,” she said. “I don’t know what to say. Did you know my father, Hans? They lived in Oneonta. To be honest, I was not close with him or my sister. How did you get my number?”

  “Yes, I knew him, but not very well. Your mother, Hilda, had given me information about you. Can you tell me what you know?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely. I know I came to America as a child. I had an Italian passport. I still don’t know why, but I have an American passport now. Things must have been so complicated back then. It was just after the war. Can you let me know more about my mother, my real mother? I was told she died in childbirth while she was having me. I feel so sad for being responsible. Tell me, how did you find me? I’m sorry I am rambling.”

  “Finding you wasn’t difficult. Hilda told me you were a ballet dancer in New York City and your name was Erika. I took a chance that you still kept your last name. I checked the ballet companies for Erika, but there was none. Then I saw ‘Eva Sanders’s in the list of dancers at the ballet company and I knew it was you. I was glad you didn’t have an unlisted number. So, what else do you know about your beginnings?”

  “My father told me I was born in Germany, and my birth mother’s name was Ilona. My real father was killed in action and Hilda and Hans adopted me.”

  “Yes, you know quite a bit, Eva. I love your name.”

  “I like it better than Erika, Mr. Rosen. That name sounds so hard, so harsh, but Eva flows smoothly, like music. I use my middle name as my stage name.”

  “I always wondered how young women were able to dance on their toes.”

  “For me, it’s more natural than walking, although I do have to have my ballet slippers custom made because my right toe curves outward.”

  Michael paused before he spoke. So does mine. “Did you have an injury?”

  “No, I was born that way. It’s a genetic trait, probably from one of my birth parents.”

  Michael felt his heart beating faster. Could it be? “Did you always want to be a dancer?”

  “Yes, always.”

  “And if you couldn’t be a dancer, what else would you be?”

  “Nothing else. I started dancing when I was young. I only wanted to be a dancer.”

  “Thank you for telling me that.” Michael smiled. “I feel I know you after so short a time on the phone. Your voice is so much like your mother’s.”

  “I wish I could have heard her voice, or that I had a picture, something. How did you know my mother?”

  “Ilona and I fell in love when we were twelve and we—”

  “Oh my God, twelve? That is so beautiful.”

  “I can see you’re a romantic, Eva. It was love, even at twelve, and we kept those feelings for many years. We even planned to marry, but our lives were interrupted by the war. What is your life like? It’s a pleasure for me to be talking to someone whose mother was the love of my life. I hear Ilona’s voice when you speak. It makes me feel good and sad at the same time.”

  “To tell you the truth, I live a quiet life. Dancing is my passion and that’s where my love affair lies. It’s my most precious gift and when I’m not dancing, I practice, so I have little time to myself. I don’t even read newspapers, magazines, or watch TV.”

  “Are you married? Do you have someone special in your life?”

  “I’m not married and don’t have a boyfriend like most of the other girls who perform. I hope someday I will meet someone, get married, and have a family. I love music and dancing and that fills my life. I think the good genes in my body brought me to the world of music and dance. I sense, deep inside, that it must have come from my mother. I often wondered what she was like. I wish I had a picture.”

  A single tear flowed over Michael’s cheek. “I can give you a picture of your mother in words, little Eva. Maybe that will help.”

  “Little Eva, no one has ever called me that. Please, tell me everything, Mr. Rosen. I’ll sit here and listen. Let me know more about my mom. You’re the only one in the world who really knew her in a special way. I can hear how much she meant to you in your voice. Please, take her out of my imagination and bring her to life for me.”

  Michael took a deep breath. What will I say? I can’t tell her everything. It will only hurt little Eva.

  “Okay, but my thoughts are scattered. I’ll tell you what she was like as it comes to me.”

  “That’s fine, Mr. Rosen. Thank you so much.”

  “I met your mother when we were both very young. And, yes, even at twelve, it was love at first sight for us. It’s not that we weren’t sure. We both knew it, but we were way too shy to tell each other. Do you believe it was possible for us to have felt that way, so young?”

  “Oh, yes, I do,” Eva said excitedly. “The best love is love at first sight at any age.”

  Michael smiled, took a deep breath, and went on. “We lived in a small town and shared our feelings together for many years. We went to concerts with our families, listened to music, and had picnics in the countryside, where we danced in the sunshine. My father provided the music on his accordion.”

  “It sounds so idyllic and sweet,” Eva whispered into the phone.

  “It was. Our families were close, and they envisioned that we would marry and have a happy life together. When we were seventeen, we talked about getting married and knew it would happen when the right time came.

  “Your mother worked in her father’s winery and I was a student at the university. We made our plans, but Hitler was coming into power, and my family moved to America to escape the war. I had to leave the university and the beautiful young girl who owned my heart. I still love her, and I felt terrible when I heard she died.”

  “It’s such a beautiful story. I’m so sorry. I understand how you feel. She meant so much to you. It would make a wonderful ballet. Love and tragedy go well together.”

  Michael smiled. She’s so much like Ilona. The same voice, the same feelings, everything.

  “When we arrived in the United States, I continued my education and became involved with academia and teaching, but I never forgot your mother, never. She is still in my heart. Hilda told me you were a ballet dancer. I’m happy for that. It was the most important information that led me to you.”

  “Yes, I’m happy too, Mr. Rosen. What did my mother look like?”

  “She had dark hair, a creamy complexion, high cheek bones, and sparkling brown eyes. Anything like you?”

  “Everything like me. I don’t believe it. It’s so good to know that I look like her. It makes me feel
she’s still alive inside me.”

  “From what I can tell from your voice and your passions, you’re very much like Ilona.”

  “Hilda was kind to me, but she had a difficult life with my father, and I don’t have good feelings about him. Is it wrong to hate your father?” She sounded so innocent. “I wanted nothing to do with him, and when my sister told me he died, I was glad.”

  “It happens, Eva. Put those thoughts behind you. You can’t change people and you can’t change the past. Get on with your life and do the things that fulfill you.

  “I do know a wonderful young man who, I think, would love to meet you. His name is Dan Berman, and I’ve known him for many years. Interested?”

  “I’m still a little on the shy side, but, you know what? You bring something refreshing to me. Yes, coming from you, I would like to meet him.”

  “I think you would have a lot in common. I know he likes classical music. Does he have to love the ballet?”

  Eva giggled into the phone. “No, he just has to be a good and kind person. Oh, and with a nice smile.”

  “He is all that! Even the smile. Let me know when you’d like to arrange it. He’s a sensitive, caring person with a wonderful sense of humor. Oh, he’s nice looking too. I think you both would get along well together. Actually, he said he would come over to my house tonight for some wine and cheese. We haven’t seen each other for a while. I’ll tell him about you, Eva. You never know what can happen.” Michael smiled.

  “I like the mystery of it all. Let’s just see what happens if we can meet.”

  “Good. If it’s all right with you, I’ll give him your phone number and I’ll give you the pharmacy number where Dan works.”

  “Thank you. It’s good that I’m able to reach him too. I’ll try not to be too shy.”

  “Just be yourself. You’re a lovely young lady. Do you think we can meet sometime?”

  “Oh, I would love that. I knew you were for real when you knew the name of my mother who gave me life. No one knew her name except for my parents. It would be wonderful if you could come to one of my performances. We are performing Swan Lake. I will be playing the lead, Odette, the swan queen. Do you know this ballet?”

  “Yes, I know it quite well and I can see you in that role. You were probably dancing around the house when you were a little girl.”

  Eva laughed. “That was me. Does tomorrow night work for you?”

  “Yes, it’s fine.”

  “Good, I’m so excited. I can leave a ticket for you at the box office, and if you want to bring your wife…”

  “Oh, I’m not married.”

  “I see, okay. I will leave an orchestra ticket for you and after the performance, we can meet backstage.”

  “I think backstage might be a little busy. Could we meet outside, near the theater?”

  “Yes, of course, the fountain at Lincoln Center, and afterwards, we can go to this wonderful Hungarian restaurant. It’s on Second Avenue near Eighty-Sixth Street. It’s a cute place that serves great goulash, stuffed cabbage, and homemade strudel you will die for.

  “It’s owned by an older Hungarian man named Laszlo. The two of you would have a lot to talk about, although I learned from a friend that he was in a concentration camp and lost some of his family. He never talks about it, but maybe it would be different with you.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been terrible for him.”

  “Yes, I’m sure, but he’s very upbeat and full of life. There is also a violinist at his restaurant who plays sad, tearful gypsy melodies…melodies to cry with, then livens it up with some Czardas music. I always feel like getting up to dance when I hear it, but I will just sit and listen as you tell me everything about my mother.”

  “You know, being in a Hungarian restaurant, eating stuffed cabbage, would be a special experience for me. Your mother was Hungarian, as you may know.”

  Eva didn’t say anything and Michael held his breath as he waited for her to speak.

  “You mean she wasn’t German?”

  “No, she was Hungarian. We met and fell in love in Szentendre, a small village in Hungary. Ilona was a lovely country girl and the daughter of a winemaker.”

  “Oh, Mr. Rosen, that makes me so happy. I don’t know why. It just does. We have so much to look forward to when we meet.”

  Michael’s heart was filled with joy. “Yes, that will be great. It will be nice to drive down to the city. I haven’t been there for a while. Okay, so it’s tomorrow, Lincoln Center, at the fountain, after the performance?” Michael wrote the details on his notepad as he spoke.

  “How will you find me?” Eva asked.

  “Trust me, Eva. I’ll know you.” Michael smiled. “You won’t have to wear a red carnation.”

  “Good, I can’t wait.”

  She was so pure, so innocent, nothing like Stern. How could that be? His mind drifted to Ilona’s last words before they were taken from their home.

  “Remind me to tell you something, Miklos.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “No, it’s a surprise for the whole family.”

  They hung up. Michael was elated.

  She’s my daughter!

  He checked the phone book for a florist and added it to his notes under Eva’s name and her phone number.

  He ordered a dozen red roses to be sent to her on stage at the end of the performance.

  Every ballet dancer should be taking her bows with flowers in her arms.

  Michael had some food delivered from the local grocer. As he enjoyed his lunch, he thought of Eva, little Eva. She sounded exactly like Ilona. It was wonderful to hear Ilona’s voice once more.

  He couldn’t wait to be with Eva. The gypsy music at the Hungarian restaurant would be a gift from heaven. Ilona would be with him once more tomorrow night. What more could he ask?

  ***

  Michael was more exhausted from the trial than he realized but was relieved and relaxed after his conversation with Eva. A heavy emotional weight had been lifted from his shoulders and now he had a special event to look forward to the next night. After lunch, he enjoyed a peaceful, dreamless nap until it was dark.

  A loud knock on the door woke him.

  It’s Dan. I’ll tell him about Eva.

  Michael hurried to the door, and, smiling, he opened it.

  But it wasn’t Dan.

  In the dim light stood a man, bald, with a small swastika tattoo on his head. His hard, hate-filled eyes held Michael’s as he raised a sawed off shotgun and fired.

  The blast pierced the stillness of the night. Then all was silent again.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, my deepest respect, thanks, and love go to my wife, Carol, who has provided me with the inspiration, insight, editing, and patience I needed to write this book. Thanks to Judy Ratto, an in-depth researcher who checked some of the facts. Sincere appreciation and gratitude go to my friends and scholars, Roy Wolff, Roy Sanders, Rabbi Dennis Math, and Norman Oksman, who provided their time, wisdom, and constructive input. I am indebted to Rosa Sophia, an established author and good friend who has been a constant source of encouragement. Special thanks to my young nieces, Daniela Brumer and Victoria Brumer, for listening to my story and offering feedback. I am especially thankful to my critique group, Writers of Abacoa: Joseph Alcock, Edee Corrias, Judy Ratto, Fred Lichtenburg, Stan Leeds, Judy Lucas, Ellen Seacrest, Linda Van Dyck, David Yates, Patricia Benedetto and Allen Balogh. My thanks to Tiffany T. Cole for her efforts in editing my book.

  About the Author

  Richard Brumer grew up in the Bronx and now lives in Florida with his wife, Carol. For many years, his passions were skiing, sports car racing, and sailing, including sailing solo in the South Pacific.

  As a retired pharmacist, he turned his hand to writing and has written several novels and short stories.

  Books by this Author include:

  The Last Sunrise

  Gelt without Guilt

  Meeting Max
/>
  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/RichardBrumer

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/BrumerRichb816

  Website:

  http://richardbrumer.com/