Among the Living

by Jonathan Rabb

  The woman looked up from under her hat and for the first time Goldah saw the sharpness of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. He had no idea of it then, not even the smallest sense, but a feeling of wonder was once again his.

  Goldah remained by the back wall with Calvin as the woman paid. She had said only two words to him — “Hello” and “Welcome” — but she had watched his face and Goldah had managed only a weak smile before Jacob had started in on the fitting of the shoes.

  She now moved past them. The bell rang and she stepped outside. Goldah watched her past the large front windows, even after she was gone. And Calvin, watching Goldah watching her, headed for the boxes.

  Jacob was finishing behind the register. “Knew she’d buy two pair,” he said proudly. “Two pair of six-dollar shoes. Not bad.”

  “And how’d you know that, son?”

  “I just know these things, Calvin. I just know.”

  “It wouldn’t be that she was a De la Parra, would it?”

  Goldah had been listening with more interest than he cared to admit as Jacob continued to work through the math. “And how’d you figure that, Calvin?”

  “Because you and Mr. Abe always going on about them Saffees. You knew who she was the moment she come in, and you knew she was going to buy them shoes.”

  Jacob closed the register. “Well maybe I did and maybe I didn’t but that’s twelve dollars in the drawer. Tell Raymond he needs to deliver the boxes this afternoon.”

  Calvin said, “Raymond’s got enough on his plate, son. No one’s stopping you from delivering them.”

  Jacob stood there for a moment, and then said, “I’m using the toilet.”

  Jacob stepped out from behind the counter and quickly moved through to the curtain. Calvin had the boxes at the counter and set them down.

  “I’ll take them back when he’s done. Jacob likes his privacy.”

  Calvin rested his back against the counter while Goldah kept his against the wall. The two men stood like this listening to the rattle of the fan as the heat seemed to gravitate to the walls. It was a strange and comforting silence until Calvin said, “You look real smart in that coat and tie, Mr. Ike. Nice fit. Hard to fit a thin man. I should know. Where’d Miss Pearl take you for it?”

  “Levin’s.”

  “Shirts as well?”

  “Shirts as well.”

  Calvin saw a speck of something on one of the chairs. He reached over and flicked it away.

  Goldah said, “I’ve never heard Italians called Saffees.” He knew it was a poor attempt at spontaneity.

  Calvin looked up, momentarily confused. Just as quickly his face cleared and he brushed something from his hands. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said you was thinking she was pretty.”

  Goldah had been thinking just that. No reason, then, to step around it. “Yes,” he said.

  “Good. It’s good to notice a pretty woman.”

  Goldah imagined it was.

  Calvin said, “Come in all by herself. That’s strange. Women usually work like shoes. They come in pairs.”

  Goldah smiled under the heat.

  “De la Parra is Jews in Savannah, Mr. Ike. Old Jews. Over two hundred years. Older than me and my own been here. They ain’t no Italians.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Calvin said with a quiet laugh. “You like hearing that, don’t you?” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the back of his neck. “I’d be careful there, Mr. Ike. Like I say she’s a Saffee. That’s a whole different kettle a fish from Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl.”

  Goldah had heard any number of names thrown at Jews. Saffee was not among them.

  “Saffees is temple Jews,” said Calvin, as if reading Goldah’s mind. He folded the handkerchief into a neat square and placed it back in his pocket. “They get their praying done by eleven. Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl, they go to the AA. That don’t finish up until twelve thirty, maybe one o’clock. Less praying for a Saffee.”

  Goldah understood: Pearl had explained it on one of their drives, albeit not in so many words. Saffee Jews were Reform Jews. She had even shown him the temple — “A church with a few Jewish stars stuck on it.” It was the Sephardim who had been the first to arrive — “Two hundred years of Jews in the South” — but there weren’t all that many of them left. Now it was the German Jews who had brought their easy faith and their assimilation to the temple, “And see how well that turned out for you.” Pearl had grown bolder talking about his past.

  Goldah imagined Calvin had never heard the word Sephardim. Saffees is temple Jews. It was as simple as that.

  Goldah said lightly, “It’s nice to see you keep such a close eye on it all. Who prays when, how long they pray.”

  “I been with Mr. Abe close on twenty years,” Calvin said. “My son was fifteen years before he get killed in the war. And now Mary Royal. I even tell you who sits where on Saturdays. Mr. Abe and Miss Pearl close up front but not as close as them Kaminskys. Mr. Kaminsky always right up there on the left. He’ll get you a good car if you need it.”

  “I’m sorry about your son,” said Goldah. “I didn’t know.”

  Calvin let the weight of it pass. “Yes, suh. Italy 1943. I’m sorry, too.”

  Jacob reappeared at the curtain. “Raymond’s back. He says he’ll take you home, Ike.”

  Goldah pushed himself away from the wall. Calvin pushed himself up as well. “You got a nice story to tell at lunch today, Mr. Ike. A Saffee coming here all by herself from the temple. Got to get her some Jesler shoes right away. You tell Mr. Abe that. He’ll get a kick.”

  Outside the synagogue, Jesler milled about with the rest of the congregation and thought God might have been kinder on a Shabbas. Then again kindness wasn’t really God’s way, was it? You had to earn everything, even a breeze after two hours trapped inside the sweltering heat.

  Jesler lit a cigarette and knew he had made a mistake. He had let Pearl wander off with the girls, leaving himself open to the likes of Mel Green. Jesler tried to look away but Green already had him fixed in his sights.

  “Buongiorno, Abe,” said Green with too much affection. “Can’t say I know how to say ‘good Shabbas’ in Italian, but there you go. How you doing?”

  Mel Green was never one to miss a service. He saw the last few rows of the sanctuary as a sort of second office, a chance to get a foot in during moments of private meditation. He had made his greatest killing during Sukkos of 1942, ten thousand yards of cotton to an army supply officer who was visiting from Charleston, and who just happened to be in need of thread. The deal had been struck somewhere in the middle of the haftarah. Green’s shaking of the lulav was, some say, particularly robust that year.

  “Good Shabbas, Mel.”

  “I tried to talk to you inside. Been hearing things.”

  “I got that. The ‘buongiorno.’ Very clever.”

  “It’s a bold move.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Green took a pull on his cigarette. “You got someone up in Atlanta? You’re going to need someone in Atlanta, Abe. I’ve got a New York Jew up there. Very discreet. If you ask me that’s the way you need to go.”

  “Sure,” Jesler said noncommittally. He was trying to figure out how the news had reached Green. Green was always bringing something in through the port. It could have been anyone.

  “So what are you moving, Abe? Three hundred a month, five hundred?”

  “The way I hear it,” said Jesler, “you need to be careful with those New York Jews. They’re smarter than us, Mel, or at least that’s what you’ve got to let them think.”

  “That’s right, Abe, that’s right. But this one knows the ropes. And he knows New York. He knows those unions. So you going to let me make the introductions?”

  Jesler dropped his cigarette to the ground. “Always good to know people in Atlanta. We’ll see.”

  “Good, good.” Green spotted another oppor
tunity. “So I’ll call you.”

  Green was gone before Jesler could answer.

  Unions? What in hell did this have to do with New York unions? Jesler lit another cigarette, exhaled, and wondered how Mel Green had gotten wind of things.

  3

  GOLDAH CHOSE not to mention Miss De la Parra that afternoon or any afternoon for that matter. It seemed something for private consumption, at least until he could figure out why. Not that there was a lilt to his walk or a warmth in his chest. He knew he would never recover that kind of ridiculous sentimentality, but the thought that something was now purely his own set him thinking in this new way. If he could have recognized it as anticipation he would have called it such, but he couldn’t and so kept it to himself.

  It wasn’t all that much of a shock then when, at week’s end, he saw her again at the ice-cream shop just a few blocks from the house. Goldah had developed a taste for malteds, a perfectly wonderful American treat that he gave himself each night after dinner. Ice cream was off the menu at the Jesler’s most evenings — meat the main course — and, as Goldah was too tired to wait the three hours for the kosher rules to kick in, he snuck away to Leopold’s for a little walk and a thick chocolate malted.

  She was at a booth in the back, with two other young women, when he stepped into the shop. Goldah picked a seat at the far end of the counter that happened to be nearest her. He had gotten in the habit of bringing a newspaper with him to read as he drank, and tonight he made sure to read through every last article. He was dangerously close to the back page when he saw the three women begin to get up. Goldah turned on his stool just as Miss De la Parra was standing.

  The hat was smaller this time, a dark blue, leaving her face free and open below it. He was once again caught by the paleness of her skin but now he noticed the small brown birthmark just below the left eye. On a different face the mark would have drawn attention. Here it served only to amplify the quality of the rest.

  She caught him staring; she smiled and stepped over. Goldah stood.

  “Hello again, Mr. Goldah.”

  “Hello.”

  “Eva De la Parra. We met at the shoe store.” Her voice was warm and assured and just as he had remembered it.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “It’s where I seem to meet everyone.”

  “In stocking feet.”

  “Hazard of the trade.”

  “I hope you don’t remember mine.”

  There was something so wonderfully bright in this familiarity, he thought. It wasn’t scattered or small talk but ease, the kind that made Goldah feel no less bold.

  “How could I forget them?” he said.

  Her smile widened. “I see you’ve discovered one of our favorite pastimes.”

  “Yes. It’s quite wonderful. Terribly sweet.”

  “That’s the best part. I like the chocolate as well. And I see you enjoy our local newspaper.”

  “I do. Yes.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that. My father is one of the editors. It would be quite disappointing if you didn’t.” A thought came to her. “I believe I read you were also in newspapers at one time. I could introduce you, if you like?”

  “I should like that very much. Thank you.”

  She seemed to want to say more but her friends appeared behind her and she quickly introduced them. “We’re off to the movies,” she said. “The new William Powell. Have you seen it?”

  “I haven’t, no,” said Goldah. “It sounds quite wonderful.”

  He watched as her smile reappeared — a quiet, thoughtful smile — and she said, “Yes, it does.” She nodded at his glass. “You should have another. Treat yourself. I would.” The smile stayed in her eyes as she offered her goodbyes. Goldah watched her walk to the door like so much untried promise and ordered himself another of the same.

  The second State Department letter arrived two days later, a confirmation of the appointment in a week. It put Pearl on edge. Even so, Goldah told the Jeslers he wouldn’t be joining them for services again. And, again, Pearl managed to accept it, this time on her own.

  Instead, the next morning Goldah returned to the store with Raymond. It was something of a surprise for Jacob as Goldah had spent the week learning the ropes. The boy didn’t like it.

  “He knows we can handle it just fine, don’t he?” A hint of accusation laced the young voice as the face grew redder. “Mr. Jesler knows I can handle it just fine?”

  “Son,” Calvin said evenly, “if Mr. Ike wants to come in, he wants to come in. That’s nothing to do with you.”

  “First it’s you coming and helping on Saturdays, and now Ike. Does he think I’m not up to it? Because I am. I am.”

  Goldah said, “I didn’t tell Abe I was coming, Jacob. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “He didn’t send you?”

  “No.”

  Jacob tried not to show too much relief at this. “Well that’s different, then” — and, with a bit more air in his lungs — “that shows initiative to me, Ike. I can appreciate that.”

  Calvin said, “Yes, I’m sure he’s glad you appreciate him, son. Ain’t that why you here, Mr. Ike?”

  Goldah did his best to ignore Calvin’s gaze and spent the morning shelving and spraying shoes. By eleven o’clock his jacket and tie were long off and his shirt wet through as he handed boxes up to Calvin on a ladder.

  “I think maybe I should clean myself up,” Goldah said. “In case Jacob needs me out front.”

  “In case Jacob needs you,” Calvin said before snorting a harmless laugh. He stepped to the floor. “You don’t think it’s clear as glass why you come in this morning? I just want to know why you so certain she’s coming back?”

  “Are you any less certain?” said Goldah.

  “No. I’m just asking why you is.”

  At ten past eleven Miss Eva De la Parra walked into the store. She was alone. Jacob started toward her but Calvin placed a light hand on the boy’s arm and said, “I think Mr. Ike’s going to take this one, son.”

  Goldah was already moving through the aisle. He imagined the penny just now dropping for the boy.

  Miss De la Parra stood by one of the shelves, looking at the shoes, and seemed to know just when to turn.

  “Well, hello again, Mr. Goldah.”

  “Hello.” He knew he’d spoken with too much eagerness. “Did you enjoy your movie?”

  “I did, thank you. Did you have your second milk shake?”

  “I did indeed.”

  “Good for you. I’m glad to hear it. You should know I’ve had quite a few compliments on the shoes I bought last week. Please tell your young man he has excellent taste.”

  “I will, of course.” Goldah almost forgot why he had stepped over. “Would you be looking for another pair?”

  She held his gaze for what seemed a very pleasant passage of time and then, as if an afterthought, smiled. “No, I don’t believe I would.”

  Goldah felt a momentary lightness in his head. He had spent so little time with women — young women — that he found her candor both remarkable and terrifying. But this was America. Women were permitted their boldness. What else was he meant to expect?

  She said, “I’ve taken the liberty of putting some clippings together from the paper. Editorials my father has written, politics and so forth. I thought you might find them of interest.”

  It was only then that Goldah noticed the large envelope she was carrying. She held it out to him and he had no choice but to take it. He tried not to show his disappointment. He said, “You’re very kind.”

  “If you should have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them.”

  Moments of courage require so very little — a lie of hope, a piece of sugar for the dying — and Goldah said, “Perhaps you’d care to take me through them now?” He was hoping to see more in her expression. “I have a break and there’s a very nice square around the corner. Unless, of course, this isn’t the time?”

  She hesitated. Goldah felt the light
ness return to his head when she said, “All right. That would be very nice.”

  Outside the sky was moving in thick, white clouds. Rain had come midweek and brought a cooling to the air. It felt almost breathable. Had he been standing still, Goldah might not have felt his perspiration, but this was early August. His chest sweltered under the jacket and tie.

  They walked in silence, stilted only for him as she seemed completely untouched by the heat or the sudden realization that they were together. They moved past storefronts and people out for a morning shop. No one seemed to take notice of them, which suited Goldah just fine. They came to a crosswalk and she said, “Do you mean the square down here?”

  He might have. He didn’t know.

  “Yes,” he said with perfect certainty.

  “I like that one, too. I don’t think I’ll talk about the weather, although it has been surprisingly cooler. I hope you’re feeling the change.”

  “I am. Yes.”

  “It becomes quite lovely in the next month or so.”

  “I’ll look forward to that.”

  She smiled as if she, too, knew that anything beyond this simple back-and-forth was beyond them. Even so she couldn’t help but add, “Mother always appreciates when the holidays are late. Easier for everyone without the heat. Unfortunately this year they’re so very early. Will you be planning on joining the Jeslers at the AA for the holidays?”

  Mention of the Jeslers chafed at him for a moment. He said daringly, “I knew you would come again.”

  Her silence nearly stopped him.

  “Did you?” she said. “I’m glad.”

  Real or not, he now felt her closer at his side.

  They reached the square, where the trees showed a moment of wind. Stepping across the road, they found a bench and sat. They both looked out at the park and watched as a young mother placed her baby in its pram. The woman’s maid stood at her side. Goldah set the envelope between them.

  Eva said, “One of the articles is about you. I hope that’s all right?”