“What?”
“I know that it’s hard for you to think about it, but there’s no alternative. You’re still young. Your whole life is ahead of you.” Her mother was on the verge of tears.
She looked back and forth at her parents and said, “The baby is mine and will stay with me forever!”
John arrived a few days after that conversation. He was very considerate. They would exchange words every now and then, but most of the time they sat in silence. That’s how it was the next day and the day after. She didn’t mind him showing up every day; he became part of her routine, and in some way, she even looked forward to his visits.
Her belly was now huge. She noticed the neighbors’ looks; malicious gossip was rampant. Once, while she was walking down the street, one of the girls from her class passed her—Laura, who she was friendly with. When they grew closer, Laura suddenly crossed to the other side of the street and ignored her completely. She had similar incidents at least once a week. She had gotten used to it and when she saw someone familiar she just continued walking.
About two weeks before she gave birth, she was sitting with John on the porch; this time he had something to say.
He said, “Sonia, I have a solution to your situation.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I know that people are looking at you disapprovingly—an unwed mother and all—and I want to propose something.”
He had succeeded in piquing her curiosity. She focused on his lips and waited for him to continue.
“Marry me,” he said suddenly.
“Why would you do that for me?” she asked in a steady voice.
It took a while for him to answer. “Because I love you. I know you don’t love me—maybe you’ll never love me, but it’s a convenient arrangement. Your son will have a father and you’ll be a married mother.”
He wasn’t sure it was love, but he had never felt before what he felt for her. She aroused conflicting emotions in him. When he saw her, he saw only her. She filled up the entire space around him; nothing else existed at that moment. But when he was away from her, he felt contempt for her; she represented everything he never had. He felt special contempt for her family. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, his family had left deep scars and a hollowness that could never be filled.
Nichka spoke with her parents that evening and told them about his proposal.
“Do you love him?” asked her mother.
“No.”
“So…”
“It seems like the best solution for someone in my position.”
“But—”
“Mother, nobody else is going to marry me—a single woman with a child. He seems OK to me. He wants to take care of me and the boy, and he didn’t ask for anything in return.” She lowered her head and withdrew into herself; she tried to hide the tears so as not to hurt her parents.
Her father let out a sigh and his voice broke as he said, “My Nichka, you are in so much pain.”
Her mother said, “You can stay here with us…”
“No, Mother. It’s time for me to begin my life, even if it’s not the life I wanted.” And then, in order to convince them that her decision was solid, she added, “The baby will have a father figure and he will grow up in a normal family. It doesn’t matter if I love John or not. Nobody can replace David, but I want to give the child a chance.”
A week later, she was taken to the Hospital for Unwed Mothers, where she had her daughter, Ethel. Right away she saw David’s eyes in the eyes of her baby daughter. Her smooth pale skin was also his. David was back.
***
One month after the birth, they were married. It was a small wedding. John said he didn’t have any family, so the few invitees that arrived were all from her side.
At first, they lived in his rented apartment, a fifteen-minute drive from her house. Her mother came over every day to help take care of the baby. But one evening, John came home and announced that he had been fired from his job. He told her that a close relative of his in the next city over had arranged a job for him and that they had to move there. At first, she resisted the idea of moving away from the city she was born in and her supportive parents. But then she agreed. To keep the family together, she thought, for Ethel.
Ethel was already a year old, a happy, cheerful child who had only just learned to walk. She ran around from one place to the other, touching everything. Sonia followed her everywhere, letting her experiment, but not letting her out of her sight. Ethel was her treasure, the reason she didn’t commit suicide and leave this world. Their daughter was her whole world and nothing was more important. She treated her life with John with indifference. They didn’t talk much. The relationship they had before didn’t change after they were married. Even if he hoped she would develop feelings for him one day, he never spoke about it.
With time, she noticed John growing closer and closer to the girl. He would sit with her on the carpet in the living room, playing games with her that he had bought on his way home from work; the girl was thrilled, curled up in his arms, constantly kissing him.
One day, when she was three years old, Nichka had promised to take her to the playground near their house. The girl was looking forward to it and was very excited. But as they were at the door on their way out, the door opened and John came in. When Ethel saw him, she left her mother’s side, ran to him, and jumped into his outstretched arms, begging him to take her to play in the park. Her mother was completely forgotten. John didn’t even take off his jacket; they were already out the door, leaving her behind.
As the days went on, she felt the girl slipping away from her. She felt alone in the world. John spent more and more time with Ethel. Sometimes he would come home early from work, take the girl without inviting Nichka to join them, and go to the playground or even just do errands in town. When did he become this person? she asked herself. Why does he want to hurt me so? He knew that Ethel was her whole world, and at the beginning of their life together, she thought he had come to terms with it. Except now everything had changed. The closer he became to the girl, the further away he became from Nichka. He created a separate world that included only Ethel and him.
One day she asked to speak with him. He kept putting her off until finally she was able to get his attention. They sat in the living room. It was ten o’clock at night and Ethel was asleep in her room. He tried to avoid the conversation, claiming to be tired, and got up from the armchair to go to the bedroom. But she caught his arm and yelled out his name. She didn’t care if Ethel woke up. For a moment, it looked like he was going to slap her, but then he sat back down in his armchair and turned his face to her. She stood over him with her head bent toward him, and asked him directly, “Do you hate me?” He was surprised. He apparently was expecting something different. For a second she saw him at his weakest—confused, embarrassed—but it was only for a fleeting moment. He stood up and moved close to her, his face almost touching hers. He asked, “Do you love me?”
It was now her turn to be surprised. He had never asked her about her feelings for him so directly. She thought he knew that love couldn’t possibly develop between them. Now she realized that this clarity was only in her mind—he had continued to hope that she would begin to feel something for him. She saw that hope in his eyes, so close to hers. The longer she kept silent, the more his face began to change.
Suddenly his face contorted from one full of hope to a mask of stone with chilling lines of hatred. She tried to hold his hand, to explain to him, to ask him to leave the girl to her, but he forcibly shook off her hand, pushed her away, and disappeared into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. She would never forget the loathing on his face.
After that meeting, he used every way imaginable to prove to her that he and the girl had no need for her. Her self-worth began to plunge. David had abandoned her, and now their daughter did as well. Every so often, she thought about leaving everything behind; she felt that no one had any use for her.
One day he announced that they were moving to an apartment in another area. When she asked why, he answered that it was none of her concern, and told her to start packing. The look in his eyes when he said this convinced her not to ask any more questions. They left the next day and moved to a city that was a four-hour drive from their previous apartment. When she told him that she needed to inform her parents of the new address, he grabbed her wrist and said, “You aren’t telling anyone anything.”
“But I have to tell them,” she said. Her mouth went dry.
He tightened his grip on her hand. “You aren’t telling anyone anything!” he repeated, his lips pursed. “You won’t see them or talk to them—either of them, ever!”
When did he become this monster? she asked herself. He had been so thoughtful and understanding—sympathetic to my grief and tolerant for my pain. I had even begun to like him.
He didn’t know how to explain what he felt toward her. His feelings were confusing. The stronger his love for her, the stronger his hatred grew. He wanted her to feel pain—pain more intense than what she felt when David died.
Despite his threat, Nichka called her parents. She stuttered when she informed them that they had moved to another apartment and that she wouldn’t be able to visit any time soon. She asked them not to contact her in the near future.
However, the following week, her mother called, and John answered the telephone. After he put the receiver back in its place, he shot her an evil glance and then looked over to the little girl sitting next to them on the carpet, who didn’t notice the drama playing out before her. His eyes turned back to her and said everything his silence did not. Two days later, they packed their belongings and, for the fourth time since they were married, left their home and moved, this time to an old run-down house not far away.
The madness that affected him led him to change her name and that of her child. On his own initiative, he formally changed her name to Maria; Ethel became Eva.
Years later, she made another attempt to contact her parents, but he found out. He took the girl and did not return until the next day. She lost her mind, running around the streets like a crazy person all night long. When she went home, toward dawn, she found them in the living room. The girl was sleeping on the sofa and he was sitting next to her drinking coffee. Ever since that night, she had not tried to contact her parents; their absence became part of her life. They, on their part, tried to find her using any means available to them. They even went to a private investigator, but it was fruitless; Sonia had disappeared as if swallowed up by the earth.
The sky above her and the ground underneath closed in on her. She lived in a box whose sides were so close to each other that any movement was limited. Once a year, she would buy presents that she hid in a box in the basement. On the boxes, she wrote “Ethel”—the name of the daughter born to her, who, for a short time, was hers.
There was one and only one time she was able to get away from the house; she had to do it carefully and quickly. She knew that he had ways of finding out what she was up to. She arrived at the store, bought a bed for the girl, who had now grown, and wrote her former name on the purchase form. It was a small victory for her, a witness to the fact that she still existed. But when the bed arrived at the house, John sawed it into little pieces and threw them in the garbage.
Being alienated from her family tore Nichka’s heart apart. She hoped they would find her. Thoughts of death intermingled with her thoughts about the dinner she had to prepare, the marketing, the housecleaning. They became part of her daily routine and were her only source of comfort. But they were only thoughts. She had to endure as long as her daughter was young; she had to remain there to keep watch.
The child idolized John. He was the authoritarian father, and she accepted his words as if they were the pure truth. He loved her in his own way. When she was four, he began to go to his weekly meetings. She would sit close to the door so she could jump into his arms as soon as he returned. Even when she got bigger she did this. It was important to her that he love her; she wanted to be perfect in his eyes.
Over time, Nichka began to understand that as long as John was alive, the child didn’t stand a chance—she had no future. The decision began to develop in her heart, and in time it took form. Her love for her child was beyond death, limitless. In her heart, she knew that her daughter would recover—that this way, she was giving her a chance at life. Wherever she was, Nichka would watch over her. Only this time Nichka wouldn’t be alone. She would join David, and together they would watch their beloved daughter grow up. Sometimes she would think about killing John and remaining with the child, but she knew that she would live in constant fear. She was also afraid that the child would hate her even more for remaining while John did not.
It was easier than she thought it would be. Cutting the tiny pipes promised the life that came with death. Two days earlier, she informed her daughter that they were invited to an event held by one of his colleagues at work. Nature was on her side when they left the house that evening. For her, it was a sign that the universe was coming together for her. And then, when it happened, for a fraction of a second, she felt pure serenity. Her soul was relaxed and her body sank ever so slowly into a soft sponge that hugged her with everlasting love. One moment before she lost consciousness, his arms embraced her and she knew she had succeeded, that she had done the right thing.
EPILOGUE
It was the middle of the night when Leah stopped talking. They were sitting in the living room and only shadows could be seen on the walls of the house. Roy’s arm hugged her and she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. Leah was exhausted. Her hands slipped down to her sides and swung like pendulums. Suddenly Yaakov stood up from his chair and came over to the sofa where Eva was sitting close to Roy. He held out his hand and she took it cautiously. Tenderly, he pulled her toward him, his eyes never leaving her face. He lifted his hand and stopped at the bridge of her nose, drawing an imaginary line along its shape. Then he traced the contour of her lips with his fingers and finally looked deep into her eyes. “The eyes are David’s and the mouth is Nichka’s. You have your mother’s nose,” he said. He turned to his wife, then turned back to her and opened his arms wide, inviting her inside. She had never felt a feeling of acceptance such as this. It was an embrace that reconnected her to the world, that wove together all the frazzled ends into one with a beginning and an end. “We never stopped searching for you,” he said, “always hoping.”
Leah got up from her chair and joined the embrace. The fissures in her world had been mended, at least for now.
***
When they arrived at home, a strange feeling came over her. It was no longer a house full of vague memories; these were rooms and corners creating new memories: expressions of hatred exchanged when passing each other, the secrets buried in each other’s hearts—hers buried so as not to harm her child and his buried to hurt her. His despicable love for his wife grew into a monster that urged him to perform illogical and unconscionable acts. He was a Nazi married to a Jew. Her loyalty to her dead lover sent him into madness and created a monster that could only threaten and frighten—he would never change her feelings for David. Because of these fears, he held on to the innocent child, who he used as an instrument of revenge. His twisted mind invented tools of war, but the war was only in his own head. Obscuring her past made no difference—giving her and her child different names was a change as thin as a blanket full of holes. The truth was there all the time, and he couldn’t alter it.
And she, with her strength, responded to his whims and created a world for her and her daughter separate from his. Ethel was to her always Ethel, and David always remained her father. The name Maria was only a thin veil, transparent and weightless, that could be swept aside with a mere breath. The gifts she stored in the box, those that she purchased every year on the girl’s birthday, helped her to preserve her sanity. They were a constant reminder of her motherhood.
And
her eyes, the same eyes that looked upon David with deep love in her youth, now watched over the fruit of this love. She gave up the child’s love for her in order to assure her a feeling of security, the kind that family provides, even a phony family.
***
The day after she returned from Cypress Beach, she decided to visit Sarah. Sarah, who had pushed her to find herself. When she knocked on the door, there was no answer. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. Her neighbor noticed her there and came over to inform her that Sarah had passed away the day before and that her funeral had been held the same day. In a split-second decision, she bent down and took out the key to Sarah’s house from under the welcome mat in front of the door. It was the first time she had entered Sarah’s house without her. The living room looked the same. She imagined Sarah coming out of the kitchen with a plate of warm cookies. She saw her warm smile and felt her stomach flood with warm feelings and deep sadness. She looked around, stopping at the objects that had become a part of her life—the embroidered doilies on the sofa, the curtains waving in the breeze, the television lying dormant. She caressed the mantel of the fireplace. She walked to the kitchen, hoping to smell the enticing aroma of her cooking, but the kitchen was clean and orderly, as if it had been prepared for her to leave. Suddenly her eyes fell on a white envelope lying on the edge of the table. There was nothing written on it. She took the envelope in her hand and opened it. Inside was a piece of white paper that had yellowed a bit. She straightened it out and read:
Dear Sarah,
I’m leaving and have left my treasure by herself. Watch over her from here and I will do it from over there. I protected her as best I could, and now it’s time for me to go and let her grow up without anyone to stop her. I know that eventually she will discover who she is; after all she is David’s daughter. Take care of her as best you can and God will bless you for it.
Life in a Box Page 34
