He readied himself for another attack. But for some reason Conrad didn’t keep slugging. He lay still for several moments as the fight drained out of him. Then he rolled over and clambered up, grabbing the back of a chair for balance.
Werner remained on the floor another minute, dabbing the blood on his face with his finger.
Gripping the chair, Conrad stared down at the boy. When he spoke, it sounded like each word was pulled from deep inside. “You don’t understand, do you kid?” Tears ran down his cheeks. “We had it all lined up, Esther and me. Ever since she got to this country, ever since we first met. Maybe she was nine, maybe I was ten, but it was always just her and me. Me and her.” His shoulders slumped. “We wuz sweethearts.”
Conrad stared beyond Werner as if he wasn’t speaking to the boy. He was addressing the Fates that had ruled his life. That had dumped on him. “Nothing wuz gonna get in our way. Not her folks, not my folks, not nuttin’.” Again, he pulled the words from a long buried place. “Then this…this disease, it came along…a week or two before our wedding date. It came along and destroyed every chance we had. Every chance we had for a beautiful life together. The two of us, always together.”
“You mean the polio?” Werner murmured.
“Whatcha know about polio?” Conrad’s fingers curled into fists again. “It’s a mean disease, a cruel disease. It don’t always kill you but it can ruin you.” His fingers uncurled and his hands hung limp at his sides. He didn’t want to fight anymore; he wanted to explain. “I says to Esther, “Marry me anyway,” but she won’t do it. She couldn’t have children, she said, so she wouldn’t be a real wife. “I want you to have a family, Conrad. I want you to have your own sons and daughters.’” His chin dropped to his chest. “Like that’s what I wanted.”
“Do you?” Werner asked, climbing off the floor. “Do you have a family?”
“Sure.” His head jerked up. “I married a gal named Trudy, a real big gal, bigger than me, and we have three kids. Brats, I call ’em. Still, I pay the rent and put food on the table.” His jaw jutted out proudly. “But that ain’t stopped me from showing up here every Sunday, now has it? Every Sunday of the year!”
Conrad’s eyes narrowed and a noise like a growl came from his throat. “You had a job to do and you didn’t do it. In this country, you only get one chance. So if she…if something bad happens to Esther…” He shot Werner another hard look, then staggered toward the door, calling back as he left. “You’re in trouble. Big trouble!”
Werner heard him stumble once or twice going down the stairs, but he kept going.
Seconds later, the boy collapsed onto his cot. He felt like one of the delivery trucks on Second Avenue had slammed smack into him. Every cell in his body hurt. Yet he wasn’t dead. Conrad had used him for a punching bag – the man had struck out against everything in his life that hadn’t gone right – but he hadn’t killed Werner. Not yet.
Still, Werner didn’t want to think of what might happen if Esther didn’t get well. What would Conrad do then? Kick him out of the apartment? Send him back?
She just had to get well.
Meanwhile Werner needed a plan. If forced to, he could survive on the streets like his friend Alf. But that was just him; what about Father and Bettina? They might arrive soon. They needed a safe place to live, and food to eat. From the letters he’d written, Father would assume both were available. What could Werner write to them now? He didn’t dare write the truth, because that might delay their coming. So what could he tell them?
These thoughts whirled round and round Werner’s brain until his head dropped to the pillow. He dozed uneasily, dreaming that a monstrous person was chasing him through a winding maze. He tried hard to escape but couldn’t find a way out. And the monster’s face kept changing. First it was Eckhard, the sailor on the ship, ready to toss him to the sharks. Then it was Mr. Pendergrast, jabbing at him with an American flag attached to a sharp flagpole. The monster dissolved into Rudolf chasing him and calling him “scum.” Finally the face was Oscar Buddorf with grey smoke spewing from his pipe.
When Werner awoke, hours later, the room felt cold and empty. Esther had filled it with warm kindness. Now that she was gone, what was left? He looked around slowly. Only Mozart remained – that fluffy ball of yellow feathers. Poor bird – Werner had forgotten to take the cover off his cage. Did the tiny bird think it was still night? As soon as Werner removed the cover, the canary lifted its tiny beak and began to sing. Its brave little song filled the empty room.
A moment later, a familiar footstep sounded on the stairs, and Sam bounded through the door. From his expression, Werner could tell that his pal had learned about Esther. News traveled fast in that neighborhood, especially bad news. He flinched when he saw Werner’s bruised face. “You don’t look so good, bud. What’d you do, walk into a door?”
Werner groaned, pouring out his worries. “What am I gonna do, Sam?”
His friend shrugged. “We’ll think of something, buddy.” Sam glanced around the little apartment. “Whatcha got to eat? A person can always think better on a full stomach, that’s what Ma says.”
Werner opened a can of tomato soup, and the two finished off all the milk, cheese, peanut butter and crackers in the apartment. They still had no ideas.
“Wanna play checkers?” Sam suggested. He got out the board and chose red as usual.
Werner gazed across the checkerboard at his friend. Sam was studying the board for his next move. Some guys, he figured, are naturally nice. Not because their lives are any easier – Sam’s certainly wasn’t – but because they don’t let the bad times ruin their hearts.
A few hours later, Sam took off for home. First though, he patted Werner’s arm. “I promise, if we keep thinking, we’ll figure something out.”
Werner was alone once more. But he didn’t feel quite so bad. As long as you had one chum, he guessed, you could keep going.
Chapter Twenty-One
10 June, 1940
Dear Father,
Amazing things happen in this country. Even to a kid like Sam. Yesterday, my friend came up to my room, his eyes big as saucers. “So whatcha think we should do today?” he asked. I didn’t know what to say. It seemed like an ordinary day to me. But, anyway, Sam answered his own question. “We’re going to Coney Island, that’s what we’re gonna do today!”
Of course I didn’t believe him at first. Every kid in the neighborhood wants to go to Coney Island. It’s the greatest amusement park in the world. But normally we don’t have the cash to do it. Then Sam explains that an hour ago, he was walking down the street, doing nothing special, when something green flew in front of him. When he went to see what it was, there was a crisp new $5 bill lying on the curb.
Of course he didn’t believe it was real at first. How could a real $5 bill just fly through the air? So he showed it to Mr. Mozer, who has seen hundreds of $5 bills. Mr. Mozer looked at it real close and said the money looked as good as any $5 bill he’s ever seen.
That’s when Sam came to see me. He told me how we could go to Coney Island on the train. Then he said, “And we’re going today.”
I asked Mr. Mozer and he said I could have a day off because I worked so hard every other day. So two hours later, we’re there!!
First, we see the Cyclone – a huge rollercoaster with little wooden carts that go way up high…and then come all the way down. The riders were screaming their heads off. The man selling tickets tried to get us on: “Twenty-five cents for the ride of a lifetime.” Sam wanted to go, but not me. I asked Sam, “Have you ever been so scared you peed in your pants?” He shook his head. So I said, “Well, fear is a bad feeling, the worst in the world. Not something to pay 25 cents for.”
So we walked and walked and looked and looked. We saw brass bands and Hawaiian hula dancers. We saw a dancing bear in a little purple hat and two monkeys in gold vests. We rode on a miniature railroa
d train that circled on its own little track.
A big guy with red whiskers talked Sam into playing a game like stickball. He just had to throw a ball into a hole about 15 feet away. Sam’s a good stickball player and he spent over a dollar, throwing and throwing until the ball finally went in. He wanted to win a doll for his sister’s birthday. The doll looked very pretty on the shelf – like Bettina’s precious Minnie. But up close, dear sister, it wasn’t near as pretty as your doll! Sam said his sister wouldn’t care ’cause she’d never had a doll.
Finally we came to the best ride at Coney Island. It’s called the Steeplechase and it’s like a real racetrack. Except it has wooden horses instead of real horses. You ride the horses round the racetrack and try to grab a gold ring. Whoever gets the ring wins ten extra rides! We stood in line 40 minutes just to get on. I rode a black horse and Sam’s horse was green. I was certain I could grab the ring. But it whizzed past both Sam and me.
After that, Coney Island didn’t seem as much fun. Still, we had a dollar and a half to spend so we didn’t leave right away. We passed a big tent with a poster out front for Wild Bill Hickok and his Wild West Show. Inside it said there were bucking broncos, long-horned steers, buffaloes, Indians, and cowboys. The picture sucked me right in and I wanted Sam to buy tickets.
But he said, “Are you kidding? Wild Bill Hickok has been dead for 20 years. I’m not gonna waste money on that. Besides, I’m starving.” So we spent most of the money on Nathan’s Hots. That’s what they call frank-furters, covered with mustard, slaw and fried onions. And we drank two orange sodas each.
Then we were heading home but Sam begged me again to ride the Cyclone. And I finally agreed. So Sam dished out two quarters and we climbed on board. The attendant slammed a metal bar across our knees to keep us in our seats. Then the little car climbed up and up and up. At the top, it paused a few seconds and I could see for miles all around. Every bit of Coney Island – the tents, the beach, the Atlantic Ocean. I thought about you and Bettina on the other side of the ocean. How I wished you were right here and not over there. Then the car started going down really fast…down, down, down, right to the bottom. Sam threw up his hot dogs and orange soda. On him and me. We tried to clean up but probably smelled bad on the train ride home.
Sorry for sending such a long letter. But I wanted you to know about one of the great wonders of New York and maybe the whole world.
Love and kisses to you both,
Your son, Werner
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mailing his letter about Coney Island, Werner grinned, thinking how pleased Father would be to find the thick letter in their mailbox. He could imagine his father reading it out loud to Bettina who’d want to hear it again and again. Both would be thrilled by his adventures!
Yet, even in this long letter, Werner hadn’t described everything that had happened that day. He hadn’t told Father why he had missed grabbing the gold ring on the Steeplechase ride…
The truth was that a few seconds before he had reached for the gold ring, he had spied a girl seated on a purple horse in front of him. She had a thin pale neck and dark curly hair. Werner had been so certain he knew who it was that he had called out loudly, “Anika!”
The girl on the purple horse had whipped around. She had a pug nose and glasses. She had frowned, then shouted back at him. “Whatcha’ yelling at me for? Ya stupid!” In that very second, the gold ring whizzed past. He’d missed his chance to even reach for it.
That stupid mistake, however, reminded Werner that he did want to see Anika again, soon. She didn’t live far across the ocean; she lived right in New York City. And he knew where.
But Anika wasn’t the first person that Werner needed to see. The next day, Mr. Mozer gave him directions to the polio sanitarium where Conrad had taken Esther. It was about fifteen blocks away – a big old building, painted a dingy yellow. Werner brought a box of bright red cherries from the grocery store. He also carried Mozart in his cage.
The nurse in the front hall of the sanitarium nearly had a fit. “You must be joking, kid. We don’t let any animals in here.”
“Mozart is not an animal,” Werner explained. “He’s a bird.”
“Well, no birds either. They’re dirty beasts.”
At that moment, however, an elderly doctor came by. “Whatcha got there, young man?”
Werner explained that Mozart was the darling of Esther’s life. “She will be so happy to see him.”
“We can’t let that bird in here!” said the crabby nurse.
The doctor looked thoughtful. “Music is good for sick people. And the people convalescing in here need all the help they can get.”
“Honestly, Dr. Swenn, isn’t that going a bit too far?” said the nurse. “A live bird!”
“It could hasten our patient’s recovery.”
“If you say so, Doctor.” The nurse pursed her lips, but she didn’t stop Werner from carrying Mozart upstairs.
He trudged up to the third floor where the polio ward for poor women was located. It was a long, wide room lined with beds. The beds were filled with women of all ages and colors – white, black, brown and yellow.
Werner carefully placed Mozart’s cage on a wide windowsill near Esther’s bed. She was delighted to see her tiny friend. “Oh my God, Werner, how wunderbar! Now I really do feel good.”
Despite her cheery tone, Esther looked as pale as the cotton sheet covering her thin body. She could barely raise herself from the bed to give him a hug. “I had pneumonia when I first came here,” she explained, “but now I’m much better.”
Werner wasn’t so sure. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he handed her one fat cherry at a time. She delighted in each one. “So will you be coming home soon?” he inquired in a low voice.
Esther’s blue eyes clouded, and she sighed gently. “Maybe not soon, but some day…”
Then her eyes brightened. “How is Sam?” she asked. “How’s Mr. Mozer? How’s Mr. Boronski? I miss people so much.”
“They’re all fine,” Werner assured her and then told her about going to Coney Island. “Did you ever go?”
“Oh yes, Conrad and I went often before I got sick,” Esther exclaimed. “He loved Coney Island and I liked it for his sake.”
Werner nodded; he didn’t like to be reminded of the short man with brown tufts of hair. He glanced around, hoping Conrad wouldn’t show up that minute.
Even their short conversation seemed to tire Esther. She slid lower in the bed and a passing nurse motioned to Werner. He placed the rest of the box of cherries on a table next to the bed, then stood at the end of the bed and said a little prayer:
Please, God, I know how many people you must care for now. Millions of people all over the world. But please save a little time for Esther. She is such a special dear person.
He figured God must already know that. But it didn’t hurt to remind Him.
Walking down the wide steps of the sanitarium, Werner’s head hung low. How far he had traveled to find a safe home for himself and his family. But now the goal seemed further away than ever. Glancing around, the city suddenly appeared dirty, noisy and crowded. What was so good about New York? If Father, Bettina and he didn’t have a home here, why not go someplace else? Someplace completely different. His imagination soared – suddenly the tall buildings on either side melted into high jagged mountains, while the traffic-clogged street seemed like a river torrent. Why not travel out West? Why not find a home amid the wide open plains, deserts and mountains? Some place clean and free. He could see his little family now – riding horses across the prairie, swimming in clear lakes, living in a mountain cabin.
The notion quickened Werner’s steps. He ran all the way back to Second Avenue, filled with dreams.
And yet there was one thing he was still eager to do in the city. Something that wouldn’t wait any longer. First, however, he had to convince Sam t
o go with him. He needed his friend’s help for his plan to work.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It wasn’t hard to find Sam. He was playing stickball as usual in a nearby empty lot. Werner quickly explained the plan. “Here’s what you gotta do,” he added, “you’re gonna distract the doorman Rudolf. Once his back is turned, I can slip inside.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Gee whiz, you’re more of a goner than I thought.”
“A goner? What does that mean?” said Werner.
“You’re gone on that girl. What’s her name? Anya…Anita?”
“I am not.” Werner clenched his fists, ready to slug Sam if he spoke more nonsense.
“Okay, bud,” he said quickly. “I’ll go with you.”
The next day the two got an early start. Both were looking forward to seeing Central Park again. It was hot now, and the trees, bushes and grass would be far greener than on their last trip.
“We might see Julius,” exclaimed Werner.
“Are you kidding?” Sam looked disgusted. “That turtle’s probably in Delaware by now.”
The boys were talking so much they almost missed hearing the voice that rang out from an apartment building high above. “Samuel Ublentz, I see you!” yelled a stout lady leaning out of a 5th floor window. “You get up here now! Right this minute!”
Sam looked up, then groaned, “Mom, I can’t. Werner and I are heading uptown today.”
“No, you’re not,” his mother replied. “I just got word your Uncle Rudy’s broke his damn leg. I gotta take him to the doctor!” She jerked her thumb back toward the room. “And who’s gonna watch these babies if you don’t?”
Sam glanced at his pal. There was nothing to be done. When Sam’s mother asked for something, you didn’t say no. Werner halted a moment, unsure. His plan called for Sam’s intervention. How could he do it on his own?
Forced Journey Page 10
