Little Shayna was now standing in front of Vic, who was holding both her hands and clapping them together. Her blonde curls shook as she bobbed up and down in time with the clapping.
“She”s beautiful,” he said. “She looks just like her Mama.”
Shayna squealed again.
“Is Shayna her name, or do you just call her that?” he asked, knowing that Shayna in Yiddish meant “pretty.”
With a little smile, the woman answered, “That’s her name,”
“I like that; it suits her. She really is Shayna.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m Victor Wayne,” he said, cracking a smile. “Do you live around here?”
“We just moved here. My in-laws own the building over there,” she said motioning with her head toward the street. “We live in the basement apartment. My husband is overseas and he wanted me to be close to his folks while he was away.”
Vic nodded and made a little clicking sound with his mouth, while still playing with Shayna’s hands. The wide eyed baby giggled some more.
“By the way, my name is Mitzi Rubin.”
“What about you, don’t you have any family here?” he asked without looking up.
“My family was in Germany. I was the only one who got out in 1938,” she replied quietly.
He looked up, not knowing what to say.
“They sent me to live with a Jewish family in England, until the war was over.”
“Oh, I see,” he stammered, still not knowing what to say.
The story interested him. He had never met anyone from Germany or England. The part about the war also was something he didn’t know much about.
“I met my husband in England two years ago,” she said almost in a whisper. “We were married six months later.” Pausing for a moment, she went on. “When I got pregnant, he was able to send me here to wait for him. He’s never seen Shayna.”
Vic could feel his face turning red as she discussed her personal life with him. “Oh, that’s too bad. It must be very lonesome for you.”
She stood very quiet and lowered her head. “I’m grateful to be here.”
He concentrated on Shayna, who was pulling on one of his fingers; fearing that if he looked at her mother, she might see him flustered. “You look so young to have a baby. How old are you?”
She brightened and flashed a smile. “I was twenty just last month; that’s not so young. In Germany a lot of girls have babies by twenty.”
Still looking only at the baby, he responded. “That’s true here, too. I didn’t mean to get personal.”
“And how old are you, Mr, Victor?”
“Me, I’m fourteen. Mrs. Rubin,” he answered looking up, returning her mockery.
“Oh, I’m surprised; I thought you were older. You act older. Most American boys seem younger to me.”
“Well I guess I got a lot of mileage on me.”
“What do you mean, ‘mileage?’”
“It’s a saying; like an old car, I have a lot of mileage on me,”
“Oh, I see, mileage.”
Her smile spread as he continued to play with the baby.
He hummed a little of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and clapped softly. The little girl began climbing the stairs.
“C’mon Shayna, let’s go,” Mitzi finally said, seeing the youngster twisting around. “Victor probably has things to do. We don’t want to keep him from something important.”
“Hey, you aren’t keeping me from anything. I like talking to you and Shayna, Mrs. Rubin.”
“Thank you, but please call me Mitzi. Maybe we will see you again,”
Taking Shayna’s hand, she started walking away. The little girl kept turning to watch Vic.
Mitzi struggled to pull her along; then stopped to pick her up. She turned back.
“Victor, you look nice and strong, maybe you can do something for me. I have some heavy boxes I want to put on a shelf in my apartment, Could you help me? We live at the second building just off the schoolyard.”
“Sure, no problem; I’ll be glad to help.”
Vic got up from the steps and caught up to the two of them. “Why don’t you let me carry Shayna? She looks like a load for you.” he said, taking the little girl.
The apartment was small and dark with sparse furnishings, but very neat. There was a pleasant scent of something sweet like a freshly baked cake that hung in the air. A small baby bed was visible alongside the larger bed in the one bedroom. As soon as he put her down, Shayna walked shakily on the light gray linoleum-covered floor to a straight-backed chair in front of a sewing machine in one corner. From there, she dropped to her knees and crawled across a beige-patterned carpet to the couch. Standing up, she smiled at Vic.
Off to the side, he saw three cardboard boxes taped neatly with twine tied around them to keep them secure.
Pointing, he looked at Mitzi. “Are these the ones?”
She nodded, pointed at the shelf above and ran over to help.
“Don’t worry, I can handle them; this one’s only about fifty pounds. My family moves a lot and I know how to lift boxes by now,” he said, motioning with his head for her to step aside. With a quick move, he put the box in place and followed with the other two.
Clasping her hands and smiling at him like a little girl, she said, “Thank you so much, Victor, those boxes have been sitting there for two weeks. Now, can I at least get you a cold drink and some cake for helping me?”
“A drink sounds good to me, but no cake,” he said sitting down and pulling Shayna onto his lap.
“All I have is orange pop, is that okay,” she said putting the glass on the table in front of him.
Shayna went to be near her mother as they talked. When he finished the drink and refused another, he got up to leave. Mitzi followed him to the door.
“It was nice meeting you,” Vic said as he approached the door. Turning, he started to say good bye. She moved closer and stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. A soft “thank you” followed.
He put his hands on her arms and looked directly at her. She looked back into his eyes, then reached up to kiss him on the mouth, gently parting her lips so their tongues touched.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling away.
“I’m not,” he answered as he blushed and turned to leave.
“Good night, Mitzi, and you too, Shayna,” he said, blowing the little girl a kiss.
On the way home, Vic kept licking his lips and thinking of Mitzi Rubin. She didn’t seem old. He wondered about how it would feel to really hold and touch her.
The next day on his way home from work at Joe Fishman’s Clothing store, he got off the streetcar on Springfield and walked toward the school. He had checked the way he looked in the three way mirror before leaving work. His gray slacks and long sleeved blue shirt looked much better than the baseball pants and tee shirt that he had been wearing the night before. From the edge of the schoolyard, he watched Mitzi’s apartment. Debating with himself whether to knock on the door, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he explain why he was there and what would he say? After twenty minutes, he left.
Saturday, after work, he went back to the school. It was deserted, so he sat on the steps again, hoping she would come out. After about an hour, he saw what he thought was a light go on in the apartment. He walked very slowly on the opposite side of the street, trying to look into the window. He saw her moving around but couldn’t make out anything else. Slowly, he kept walking and then crossed over in the middle of the block until he was on her side and turned back. As he approached the building, he saw a small crack in the entrance doorway. Moving closer, he saw the door open slightly and there she was motioning him to come in.
“I thought it was you,” she said, smiling when
he pushed the building entrance door open. Quickly, she opened the door to her apartment and beckoned him to come down the four stairs.
“Hi,” was all he could manage. “How’s Shayna?
“She’s fine, but don’t make any noise; I just put her down to sleep.”
“Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” was playing softly on the radio as he strained to see into the barely lit room.
“I see you like the ‘Hit Parade,’” he said, trying to make conversation.
“Oh yes, I love the music. Every week I listen; it’s my favorite.”
He looked around the apartment as his eyes adjusted. Laundry was piled on the couch and tables. An ironing board was set up and freshly pressed shirts were hanging on a clothes line stretched high across the room.
Mitzi was wearing an apron over a washed-out dress and had a pair of men’s slippers on her bare feet. Her hair was pinned up to keep it off her neck. Her eyes, which he hadn’t noticed before, were light grey, and they brightened when she looked at him.
Shyly, she spoke. “You caught me working.”
He smiled, noticing again her accent, and how she softly pronounced her W’s like V’s.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is it okay? Maybe I should leave.”
“No, don’t leave” she said as she moved a pile of clothes to make room for him to sit on the couch.
“I do laundry and dressmaking,” she volunteered, moving to an ironing board near the sewing machine. “That way I can work from here and not leave Shayna. My Mother-in law got me started. She sent me some customers from where she lives.”
Feeling a little self conscious, Vic said, “Oh, that’s good. Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
She sprinkled some water on a shirt while he watched the rhythmic motion of her ironing. With head down, she appeared to be concentrating on her work as she spoke. Putting the water bottle down, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and kept working.
“No, don’t worry. I can use some company. I just want to finish ironing this shirt and then I’ll make some tea and we can visit.”
Vic stood and walked over to look at a picture on the wall. It was Mitzi and a stocky looking older man in uniform. She was holding a bouquet and wearing a hat.
“That was our wedding day. We met at a Shabbos service one Friday night. I was only seventeen. He was twenty-nine.”
Vic nodded and watched her as she continued to work the iron carefully over the white shirt. The dress she was wearing was sleeveless and her thin arms looked so appealing. He wondered what she would do if he walked behind her and put his arms around her waist. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“He is a nice man and very good to me. I worry, though, about his mother and father. I don’t think they like me. If it weren’t for Shayna, I don’t think they would have anything to do with me.”
Vic continued to look at other things in the small apartment. He picked up an older-looking picture with a decorative silver frame from atop the small bookcase. In it was a man in a dark suit and hat. Next to him was a slim woman in a big hat and dark print dress. In front of them was a light-haired girl about ten and two younger children. They were standing in front of a tree in a garden.
Mitzi stopped ironing and looked up. “That is my mother and father and my brother and sister. I’m the skinny blonde. It was taken in our backyard on my ninth birthday. My father was a doctor.”
“A doctor; I bet that was nice,” Vic said, thinking she must have been rich to live in what looked like such a nice house. He sat on the couch and turned so he could watch her.
“We lived in Frankfurt, where my father was a surgeon at the largest hospital in the city. I was the oldest and was in ninth grade when they expelled all the Jews from the preparatory school. It was shortly after Kristal Nacht .”
“Kristal Nacht, what is that?”
“You know, when the Nazis broke all the windows in the Jewish-owned stores and synagogues.”
“Oh, yeah, I’d heard about that,” he said softly, feeling embarrassed at appearing stupid.
“After that, storm troopers began chasing and beating Jews in the streets. That’s when I was sent to England.”
Stopping and looking down, she said softly, “The last I heard, my family was arrested and sent to Auschwitz.”
Vic listened quietly, recognizing the horrible name, but not saying anything.
“That was 1940; since then, I haven’t heard from them or any of my family. As far as I know, I am the only survivor.”
“I’m sorry,” Vic mumbled. He watched as she gulped and then resumed arranging the shirt and ironing.
He had a sudden urge to hold her like a baby and let her cry.
“There, that’s done,” she announced, positioning the shirt on a hanger. Removing the apron, she set about clearing the table of laundry and putting the kettle on to boil. “Come sit here, Victor,” she said, going to the cupboard and removing a small, covered dish. “Try some homemade coffee cake. “
Vic felt uncomfortable, hearing about her life and especially her husband. He noticed she mentioned how nice he was, but didn’t say she loved him. Moving to the table, he remained standing while she placed the cake in front of his chair. Reaching out, he took her wrist gently and pulled her toward him. She resisted slightly and then turned toward him as he kissed her cheek.
He waited for her reaction, fearing she might be angry or frightened. Instead, she pulled her head away and looked directly into his eyes.
He let go of her wrist.
Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him; gently at first and then passionately. His arms encircled her waist and he immediately could feel a stirring as he forced his hips into hers.
The light fragrance of her skin and hair and the pressure of her lips and tongue excited him.
“Oh, Victor, it’s been so long since anyone held me,” she sighed. Her arms reached under his shirt as she pulled him closer. “I love the way you feel,” she whispered, grinding her hips into his,
Vic put his right hand lightly on her small breast and could immediately feel her response and soft moan. His other hand cupped her behind. She was not wearing anything under her dress, which excited him even more. He could feel little beads of perspiration on his forehead as he felt the hardness growing in his crotch. Reaching inside her dress, he brushed his hand over her breasts and bent to kiss them.
Slipping to the floor, he raised her dress and lightly ran his fingers over her legs, feeling goose pimples as he reached higher. She busied herself stripping his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. His hand reached between her legs and she guided him whispering, “Easy, gently, oh, right there.” She let out a soft purring sound.
His heart was pounding as she fondled him through his under shorts until he felt himself groan softly as he released his pent up fluid in her hand.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered hoarsely. Seconds later, she let out a soft shriek, which got louder and then she gasped and pulled him to her tightly.
They continued kissing until Mitzi tensed up and pulled away. “Don’t say a word, please, don’t say anything.”
“Are you upset?”
“No, I’m not upset; just hold me.”
Slowly, he felt her relax as he loosened his hold on her but stayed close.
In the other room, they could hear Shayna stirring in her crib.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
Lifting herself on one elbow, she smiled. “She’s fine, just moving around in her sleep.” With her free hand she arranged the dress to cover her breast.
“Victor, I don’t know how to say this, but I feel better than I have felt since I came to this country over a year ago. I have been scared to death. I know my in-laws don’t like me and my husband is a good man who I married for
the wrong reasons. He loves me, but I don’t think I love him.”
Vic was uncomfortable as he listened to her confession, frightened that she was telling him these things. It was the first time in his life he experienced anything this sexual and he still desired her, but she was older and married with a child. He wanted to escape, but still wanted to do more with her.
Fortunately, Mitzi gave him a graceful out. Getting up, she smoothed her dress and turned away from him as he straightened his clothing and put on his shirt.
“It’s getting late, maybe you should go,” she said. She took his hand and helped him up. Walking to the door in the dimly lit apartment, she stopped and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you Victor, this has been a lovely evening. I hope you are alright.”
Vic hugged her and turned. “Yeah, I liked it, too.”
Out on the street, Vic walked away quickly. Passing the school, he walked to the steps and sat down. His heart was pounding as he reviewed the previous hour. He was elated in a way that he had never known but frightened because he knew it was wrong. He wanted to tell someone but Mitzi was not some dirty girl like a few he’d heard stories about; she was someone he loved. He wondered what his friends would think it they knew what happened to him tonight but he knew that his friendship with her had to remain a secret.
He got up and headed for home. As he walked, he thought about what it was like for her and all the other Jews whose lives had been forever disrupted by the war.
Ma greeted him as he entered the apartment. Looking up from her newspaper, she peered over glasses. “Oh, it’s you. Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I had something earlier. Don’t worry, I’ll check the icebox. I’m sure I’ll find something.”
“Some girl, Shirley something, called you.”
“Oh, what did she want?”
“She didn’t say; she just said to tell you she called.”
“Thanks, anything else going on?”
Albany Park Page 5
