by Sarah Raz
The slopes of the mountain, gleaming in every shade of green, were capped by the rather startling whiteness of the snow that still crowned its summit. Tall, upright cypresses lined the sides of the road; through them one could catch sight of red-roofed wooden cottages used by city folks as summer retreats. The combined effect was that of carefree joy and Alice was not immune to it. As the carriage was making its climb up the mountain, Alice cast furtive glances at the young man seated next to her. She saw that above his blue eyes, eyes that never stopped looking at her, his black hair had been combed back. He wore white leisure slacks and a grey striped blazer. On his feet were white loafers and unlike the two married men in the carriage, he wore no hat.
Young, yes, but one who knows what’s what, a man of the world. He never spoke, only kept his gaze directed firmly at her. After they had strolled on the mountain paths and enjoyed the plentiful sunshine, they sat down to rest a while and restore their strength. Alice could see that the young man went out of his way to always find himself next to her, yet he still hadn’t spoken a word. Not much time had passed and everyone burst out in song. The tall single gentleman led the singing with a clear voice, women bringing up the chorus. Alice sang the solo part from the “Duchess Meritsa” in her beautiful mezzo-soprano voice. The entire group fell silent, amazed at her musical abilities.
As they were doing justice to the many delicacies that were brought along in wicker baskets, it turned out that the mountainside was dotted with wild bee hives. A sharp pain struck her hand. Alice, who had never been stung by a bee before, got scared and let out a loud scream, a scream that bore witness to her considerable pain. The young man rushed to her aid. Taking out a clean handkerchief from his blazer pocket, he wet it in some cold water and as he leaned in to wipe the area of the bee sting he whispered his name; Asher. Asher Uziel. That was how they met.
He never stopped talking as he was bandaging her hand. If ever she had thought him too quiet, now she could hardly keep up with the torrent of words he was unleashing on her. It turned out that he was a friend of Corinne’s brother in law and that he was the youngest of all twelve of Rabbi Uziel’s children, but he did not adhere to an overly observant lifestyle. He told her that his mother had died early in his childhood and that his stepmother had never had any warm feelings for him. It was his eldest sister, who had already been married when their mother died, that ended up raising him. Alice felt a strong empathy for her new friend. After all, she too had just recently lost her mother. Asher did not appear Sephardi to her and sure enough he told her that his father was a German Jew, but his mother spoke Ladino as did his eldest sister, so he was fluent in the language. For three whole hours he had held his tongue and now it was as if he was scared that he wouldn’t have time to tell her all that was in his heart.
The couples each chose for themselves secluded places among the trees and Alice found herself alone with her suitor. To her surprise, she felt more amused than awkward. Asher was engulfed in caring for her bee sting, time and again he dipped his handkerchief in cold water and as he was applying it to her hand, his face had come quite close to hers, his penetrating eyes gazing into hers across a vanishingly small distance. She could feel his breath on her cheek, a sensation that made her whole body tremble. Alice reached for her chocolate supply. She needed him to back off!
She took one chocolate for herself; she also needed to cool down. Her suitor was now in a full sales pitch mode. He was regaling her with all of his admirable qualities. He was an accounting student and he had already secured a position with a company that had commercial ties with Germany. He was fluent in both German and French and his high level of income ensured that he could lead a comfortable existence. Never mincing words, he told her that he had been looking for a wife, a life partner, and that she, Alice, was the woman of his dreams.
The pain in Alice’s hand was long gone and the swelling had subsided, which never stopped her from letting out, from time to time, a small moan and watching how her small hand so snugly nestled inside his larger one. Alice looked at him rather curiously. She had never heard such eloquence. Is this how they courted in the big city? Were there no rules in this bourgeois society on how one conducted himself in such matters?
Alice was flattered by all the attention that had been lavished upon her and she did nothing to discourage him from believing that she, too, was interested in a connection between them. Still, in her heart, she longed to go back to her small town and again meet the boy who had so casually broken her heart. Asher was definitely handsome and attentive and a great match to boot. But she wanted love above all else. She was certain that her betrothed would have to be someone she had known her entire life; he could never be a total stranger, someone whom she had never known, someone who chose to be with her based on her looks alone.
As the day drew to a close and the moon started its climb in the evening sky, he kissed her bee-stung hand and promised that he would come back and inquire how it was healing. It had appeared to Alice, as she raised her eyes to meet his that she could see a trace of a smile on the moon’s countenance. She never told him that first thing next morning she was leaving to go back home to Plovdiv.
When she took her leave from her sister, Alice knew that from this point on keeping in touch with her would not be easy. Corinne’s new life would demand that she be always at her husband’s side, fulfilling all his wishes. She would not have much time to correspond with her faraway family. But they promised to write.
Alice and Jacques returned to Plovdiv. On the way, Jacques told her that he would be very busy in the near future and that he expected her to take care of their aging father. “He needs help at home and in the business,” he said. “You are still young and if you are entertaining any thoughts of finding a suitable mate, you will have to wait awhile so that dad and I can save up for your dowry.” Jacques shifted his weight awkwardly on the train bench. “Can you see how Corinne had found for herself the perfect match? She saved us the trouble of making a dowry available to her. That’s what you should do as well. Don’t even think of marrying Marco Anavi because I can tell you right now that I have no intention of standing before his family as a pauper, hat in hand, and begging them to accept you.” Alice was quite taken aback by her brother’s words. “How selfish of him,” she thought. “He could ask his wife’s Rebecca’s family for the dowry, but apparently his obligation to his baby sister means nothing to him.” Alice had been brought up to respect her brothers, so she did not avail herself of her sharp tongue this time. “I shall not bother you with this matter,” was all she said.
Alice returned to her old routine. The letters from her sister came less and less frequently and when they did, they contained nothing of interest. Corinne plied her with stories of the latest purchases for her new house and complained of boredom and ennui. She was the perfect example of a woman who had both everything and nothing. She had learned to be spoiled and vain, a woman who was eager to show off her wealth.
From time to time, the aunts would show up with homemade gourmet dishes for Menachem, but he was ever in mourning, ever as someone whose whole world had collapsed around them and who had nothing left to live for. It wasn’t easy to spend time in his company. Always on edge, he spent most of his time at work, postponing his return home each day to the small hours of the morning. He would ask Alice how she was doing, but never showed any real interest in her answers.
Rebecca could not conceive and Jacques took her to see the best specialists. He had begun to spend more and more of his time on business in Sofia while Rebecca was left alone in resort towns that were known for their waters, waters that supposedly could help women conceive. Albert was absorbed in his studies and there were no bright spots in Alice’s existence. The only good thing was that Marco had been sent away to study, so the pain of bumping into him on the streets had been spared her.
The Balkan winter came, cold and damp, and saw Alice spending even more of her t
ime indoors, each day losing more of her vitality, slowly wasting away. Sarah and Suzanne watched and worried.
Sarah, a renowned story teller, regaled Alice with all the latest gossip she had picked up in the French magazines. “Come, Alice, let me tell you a true life story that reads like a novel,” she would say and make herself comfortable on the couch, tapping the empty space next to her with the palm of her hand. “This story is of one Jeanne Lanvin, who was born about fifty years ago as the eldest daughter of a couple who struggled in vain to lift themselves out of poverty. After Jeanne had been born, her mother continued to give birth to a new child with each passing year and soon Jeanne had ten siblings. Jeanne cooked and cleaned, raised her younger brothers and sisters and hardly had time to learn how to read and write. On her thirteenth birthday, her parents found her a position as an apprentice and a delivery girl in a Paris fashion house.
Little Jeanne lived in the servants’ quarters on the top floor of the house. For the first time in her short life she saw silks and mousseline, taffeta and lace. She feasted her eyes on ribbons, accessories, hats, lingerie, and fancy dresses. She never paid for a coach and ran around the big city on foot making deliveries of hats in their huge cardboard boxes to all the leading ladies in Paris. It had been those hats that played the most important role in a society lady’s attire. They broadcast to the world everything that mattered - a lady’s wealth and her marital status: maiden, married, or widowed. From the hat a society lady chose to wear one could glimpse her age and her ‘boldness’.
Jeanne was diligent in learning everything there was to learn about hat-making and she had become an excellent milliner.”
Alice shot Sarah and impatient glance. “Tanti Sarah, is there a point to all of this? Why are you telling me this boring tale?” Smiling, Sarah took Alice’s hand in hers. “Never tell me that one of my tales is boring, Alice,” she said. “You know that I am a seer and if I tell you that hats are important, believe you me, I know what I am talking about. And I haven’t finished yet. That very same Jeanne that I have been telling you about began sewing hats for dolls and selling them to toymakers. Her specialty was attention to detail. Her toy hats had ribbons and wreaths, feathers and lace, birds and butterflies. She took pains to make her creations as colorful as possible.
When she was twenty-two years old, Jeanne opened her own little storefront in the marketplace among the wine merchants and the poultry dealers. Jeanne worked diligently around the clock, rarely went out, and never made herself available to suitors. By her thirtieth birthday, she was already a wealthy woman. She employed her siblings and even snared the hand of a real count in marriage. In the fullness of time, she gave him the gift of a most precious girl, Magritte, who she raised as a princess. Beautiful Magritte became her muse and gave new life to Jeanne’s fashion house, which went from strength to strength.
Magritte received the best education money could buy. Emile Zola himself could be seen as a frequent guest in her salon. It was the Belle Époque and Paris was awash in exhibitions of art, in theater, and in music. The Lanvin fashion house was in the center of it all. Surely you realize, Alice that among all the great houses of Paris, among all the Chanels and the Schiaparellis, Lanvin is the leader today? You can see what determination and persistence can accomplish when one sets his or her mind to it. That is what I had wanted to tell you. I know and I can tell how talented you are. There is no reason for you to stay at home and take care of your elderly father. He can take care of himself.”
Sarah could tell that her instructional tale had not brought about the hoped for effect. “But what about coffee,” she thought. Immediately after they had finished their lunch, Sarah served Alice a cup of black coffee. “But, Tanti, you know that I don’t drink coffee,” Alice protested. “Stay here and I will make some tea.” “Today, you will drink coffee!” Suzanne ordered. “You are old enough now for a reading.” Alice smiled. Wasn’t it the aunts themselves who had told her that they had no mystical powers and that it was the prophecy itself, the effect it had on the person who was the subject of the reading, that had made it come true? Everyone needs a guiding hand and the idea was to give a person a little push, to help them make the right choices. What’s the worst that can happen? Let them play their little game, she thought.
Alice drank the thick, bitter liquid slowly, sipping it in measured sips, and once done, flipped it over onto the saucer in one fluid motion. She let a few minutes go by. Sarah decided that she would do the reading. “Alice, I can see a “cavalier” in your future, a true knight, tall, dark, and handsome, who is looking for you. I see him walk the streets of a big city, stop by the doors of a big house and inquire about you… his arm is stretched out; this means that he has brought you a gift. Yes, yes, I see a bouquet of flowers, the symbol for a wedding and a happy marriage. He knows nothing about you other than your name. He is all alone in the world and you are his soulmate… He will not rest until he finds you. Later, I see the image of a moon over a couple and that is also a good sign.” The aunt let out a heavy sigh, turned the cup around and put it down without looking at it any further. “I can see now that you will soon be very busy because there will be a new birth in our family. We must starting knitting a white cape. Jacques will soon have a baby girl and she will be named Luna after my sister. You should know, Alice that for two generations only girls will be born into our family. Jacques and Corrine will each have one and you will give birth to two.” This, Alice knew, was more wishful thinking talking than the coffee.
“I think we should start working on your trousseau. You are aware, Alice that coffee usually reveals to us the near future, events that are soon upon us. But your story is different. It covers all the sides of the cup in one continuous swirl and it is very interesting indeed. You will have a life full of adventure, ups and downs, but you will always be in control of it. I can see a spider. This means hard work that shall have its reward. I can see much travel to faraway lands.” As was her wont, Sarah came to an abrupt stop. “Good then, enough. We have much to do.” Alice saw Sarah wink at Suzanne who was standing on the opposite side from her. Whom do these two think they’re fooling, she thought.
Alice knew that her aunt was right. She too would have advised herself to spend her time more enjoyably and productively, rather than wallow in her sorrows. The aunt’s words made her come out of her stupor by showing her new possibilities. She went to town and from the household budget given to her each month by her father bought for herself some lovely fabric. Her mother had always encouraged her to make new beautiful things for the Passover holiday; new linen and towels for the house and new clothes for the family. Alice made a gorgeous dress, violet with butterfly-shaped buttons made from translucent crystal. The dress was rather bold, in the Charleston style, much shorter than any dress she had ever worn before. She added a long string of beads that reached all the way down to her waste and a new pair of sandals. Finally, she resolved to give herself a short modern hairdo.
She knew better than to tell anyone of this last item because she knew that it would not be well-received. But she had to put to rest her childish image and she knew that a short haircut would accomplish that goal. “A la garcon”, they had called it, a fashion that spoke of women’s desire to be taken seriously in society, just as men had been. Short hair and a loosely cut short dress - that was what she thought she needed. That afternoon, she returned home from the hair salon, showered, and put on her new dress. I shall surprise father when he comes back from the coffee shop tonight. He too needs a change around here, she thought. Alice prepared the Sabbath table just as her mother had taught her. All the special dishes were present and accounted for.
She prepared a white “agristada”, a kind of tangy roux made from flour and water that were boiled together to make a paste before adding lemon juice, sugar, and egg yolks. Brisk stirring emulsified the mixture and brought the flavors together, making a delicious dipping sauce. Into it, she had put pieces of fresh
ly fried fish and then placed everything in the icebox to chill. Alice knew how much her father loved this dish accompanied by a crisp, lemony cabbage salad. For the main course, she prepared various vegetables stuffed with meat and rice in a red “gevetch” sauce made from the insides of the stuffed tomatoes. The meal was capped off by crunchy baklava and “tishpetshi”, a pastry made with almonds and other nuts soaked in honey syrup. She set the table with a white tablecloth and the white Sabbath service, lit the candles, and waited.
Something about the noise made by the garden gate slamming shut sounded different to her. It had yet been too early for her father to have made it back from work. She got up and passed by a mirror on her way to the door. She liked what she saw. The sound of knocking came from the front door. Alice adorned her face with a smile and swung it open. He stood there behind an enormous bouquet of irises wearing a brown suit and a bowler hat. She remembered how tall he really was. “Alice”, he whispered as he removed his hat, “is this really you?”
“Asher… shalom, what are you doing here… why haven’t you called ahead? Please come in.” Asher handed her the bouquet, stepped over the threshold, and before she could set the bouquet aside, opened his arms and drew her into them, close to his heart. Alice felt her breath leaving her; her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She had never experienced the full-on effect of male attention as she had at that moment. She wanted it to last forever. She lifted her gaze upwards to meet his and saw the trace of a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He pressed his cheek to hers. They stood thus, clinging to each other, Asher never wanting to let her go lest she disappeared again.
Alice wormed herself out of Asher’s embrace and turned towards the dining room. “Come, sit. How lovely that you have come now, we are just getting ready to sit down for the Sabbath meal. My father and my brother Albert will soon be home and they will be delighted to make your acquaintance. But why haven’t you written? Or telegraphed? I’m sure that Corinne knew that you were coming, I mean it is only through her that you could have found me. You promised to write… I was certain that you had only amused yourself that day with a girl out on her own. I had never thought you were serious. After a week, I simply erased you from my memory. I never told anyone here about you. Not a soul here knows anything about that outing to the Vitosha Mountains.”
