The Locket

by Evans, Mike

  “Gold!” Hedy chanted. “The Yid has gold. Gold. The Yid has gold.” Suddenly the clasp came open and the locket flew through the air. It struck Hedy on the shoulder and dropped to the floor. I dropped to my knees and groped between them in a desperate attempt to find it.

  Senta held on to the necklace and dangled it over me. “Looking for something? she teased. “You’ll never find it.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes and a feeling of desperation overwhelmed me. Why did I take it? Why did I think this was a good idea? If only I had listened to Papa and left it in the box.

  Then I heard a familiar voice growl, “Give it back.” I looked up to see Stephan Rovina, a boy in our class, holding Senta by the wrist. “Give it back.”

  “Eww!” Hedy squealed. “A Jew touched you. She staggered about in mock distress, clutching her stomach and pretending to be sick, all the while laughing and giggling. Senta laughed, too, but Stephan still held her at the wrist and would not let go. “Give it to me!” he demanded and held out his hand.

  Senta tossed the necklace across his shoulder and jerked her arm free. “Take it,” she snapped. “And don’t ever put your filthy hands on me again.”

  As she stepped back, I saw the locket on the floor where she’d been standing. She’d hid it beneath her foot all the time. I picked it up and checked to make certain it had not been damaged. Then I stood and turned to Stephan.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I sniffed. “I think so.” He handed me the chain. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He held the end of the chain and threaded it through the opening at the top of the locket, then reached around me to put it on my neck. “Lift up your hair.” I held it out of the way as he slid the necklace in place. His fingers were light against my skin and the touch of them sent a tingle down my spine.

  When the locket was in place again I looked at him and smiled. “I suppose we should get to class.”

  He pointed to my neck. “Maybe you should tuck that inside your dress for the day. You don’t want that to happen again.”

  “Good idea,” I nodded, and I slipped it below my collar.

  * * *

  That afternoon while I was walking home from school I saw Adolf at the corner. I ran to catch up with him and met him at the corner. I looked up at him and his eyes seemed sad.

  “What’s the matter?” “Nothing,” he replied glumly. “You look sad. Have a bad day?”

  “Nothing you would know about.” “You mean in school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?” “Math.”

  “Oh.”

  “See. I told you you wouldn’t know.” “Algebra,” I nodded. “I bet it was algebra.” “Something like that.”

  “I could help you.” “I don’t think so.” “Why not? I’m smart.”

  “It’s a little more than your twelve-year-old mind could understand. Besides, you’re a girl.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “One day you will be a woman and you’ll understand, women can’t do this. Only men.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant but I didn’t like it. Still, I liked him and I tagged along beside him. “I had a bad day, too,” I offered. “Oh? What happened to you?”

  I took the necklace from beneath the collar of my dress and laid it on top for him to see. He stopped and stared at it. “That looks like gold.”

  “I think it is gold.” “Where’d you get it?”

  “It was my grandmother’s.” “And it’s really gold?” “Maybe.”

  “Should someone as young as you be wearing something made of gold?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose not, but I wanted my friends to see it.”

  “Are all you Jews that rich—so rich that even their children wear gold?”

  “I don’t know about everyone. I think Mr. Rothstein is rich. And Mr. Edelman. I don’t know about any others.”

  “And you.” “I’m not rich.”

  “I think your father is rich. Getting rich off the high prices he charges in his store.”

  “He doesn’t charge extra.”

  “All Jews charge extra. They’re sucking the life out of the country. It’s happening all over Europe.”

  We continued to talk and I took no notice of time or place. Then suddenly he came to a stop and I saw that we were at the walkway to his house. His father, Karl, was standing on the porch, glaring at us. Adolf stooped down and looked me in the eye. “I have to go inside now,” he said in a low voice. “You must go home.”

  “But I can help you with your schoolwork,” I argued.

  Karl overheard us and burst out in jeering laughter. “You really are stupid. Both of you. A stupid Jew helping a stupid German,” he scoffed. “That is the best joke I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Adolf turned toward his father. “She was only trying to help.”

  Karl’s face turned red and his eyes narrowed. In an instant he charged from the porch, took three long strides to where we stood, and struck Adolf with a fist on the side of the head. “Get in the house!” he shouted. “That Jew has you under her spell and you’re too much of an idiot to recognize it.”

  Adolf looked down at me once more and, with the kindest expression, said quietly, “You should go now.”

  I turned away and started up the sidewalk toward our house. As I did, I looked back over my shoulder and saw Karl holding Adolf by the collar, pushing him toward the porch. With every step, he slapped Adolf on the back of the head, barking at him like an angry dog. Moments later, the front door banged shut and I could hear shouting from inside their house. I returned home with the sound of those voices still in my head, the anger and intensity of it was almost more than I could comprehend. Why was Karl so angry?

  At home I found Mama in the kitchen. David was with her, and as I came to the doorway he gave me a knowing look and made a gesture toward his neck. I touched my neck and felt the necklace. Before Mama noticed, I turned aside, removed the necklace, and placed it in the pocket of my dress. Then I came back to the doorway, crossed the room to where she stood at the sink, and kissed her on the cheek. She looked up at me. “So, how was school today?”

  “It was fine.”

  “I heard there was trouble with one of the girls.”

  I shot a look at David but he just shrugged. “Not much.” I did my best to avoid the subject.

  “You must not antagonize them.” “I don’t.”

  “If there is trouble,” Mama continued, “you will be blamed for it.” “I know, but I don’t like it. It’s just not fair. They get to say whatever they want and if I reply, then I am the one who gets into trouble.” “That is the way it is.” Mama set aside the dish she was holding

  and dried her hands on a towel. “You know that is how it is, so why struggle against it?” She pointed to a head of cabbage that sat on the counter. “Chop that cabbage for me.”

  I washed my hands at the sink and took a knife from the drawer. Outer leaves of the cabbage felt smooth and waxy against the palm of my hand as I steadied it against the countertop. Then, with careful aim, I pressed the blade of the knife against it and pushed down. The leaves made a crunching sound as the blade sliced it into chunks.

  While I focused my eyes on the cabbage and the knife, my mind revisited the scene a few minutes earlier outside Adolf ’s house. Images from that moment filled my mind—the kindness in Adolf ’s eyes as he told me I should go home, the fear on his face when his father grabbed him, the pain and anger as his father’s fist struck his head. “Mama?” I said finally, in as disarming a voice as I could muster.

  “What is it now?” she sighed.

  “Why is Karl Eichmann always mad?”

  “You have been to their house again?” She was not pleased.

  A sense of guilt swept over me. I had forgotten all about her earlier warning not to go there. “I walked home with Adolf.” I was trying to diffuse the situation with my explanation.

  “I told you to leave them alone. Those peo
ple are not good for us.” “We were going in the same direction. He is our neighbor. I couldn’t ignore him.”

  “Just the same,” she grumbled. “You should leave him alone.”

  From the tone of her voice I could tell she was not angry with me, so I pressed on for an answer to my question. “But why is his father always mad?”

  “Karl Eichmann is trouble for us,” she repeated.

  Still, I would not give up. “He’s not just mad at me. He gets mad at Adolf, too.”

  “Are you chopping the cabbage? All this talk is slowing us down.”

  “I saw you walking home with him,” David added. “What were you talking about?”

  “Math.”

  “Math?” David laughed. “You were talking to Adolf about math?” “He’s doing poorly in school and we were talking about it.”

  “That is what this is about?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “His father overheard us and got mad.”

  Mama set a pot of potatoes on the stove and glanced in my direction. “That is all he was mad about?”

  “I guess. I offered to help and he got mad.”

  “You offered to help?” David laughed even louder than before. “Adolf is far ahead of you in school. He’s even ahead of me—studying algebra, geometry, and who knows what. What do you know about that?”

  “Ahh,” Mama nodded. “Now I see why he got mad. What did he say?”

  I kept my eyes on the cabbage and lowered my voice. “I don’t know.” I was trying to avoid the question.

  “Tell me,” Mama insisted. “What did he say?”

  “It wasn’t anything,” I shrugged. “Really. It’s okay.”

  She stepped away from the stove. “Sarah, tell me what he said.” From the tone of her voice I knew there would be no peace until

  I answered so, reluctantly, I told her, “He said, ‘A stupid Jew helping a stupid German, what a joke.’ Or something like that.”

  “See. That’s what I mean.” Mama’s voice was loud, her words emphatic. “He wasn’t mad because of the math. He was mad because you are a Jew. And Karl Eichmann hates all Jews.”

  David spoke up again. “Adolf would do better in math if he studied more.”

  “It’s not that,” Mama dismissed the comment with a wag of her finger. “Some people have trouble with math. Alois was not so good at math when he was a boy.” She came and stood beside me, then she spoke to me in a calm, even tone. “This was not about math or school or anything like that. This was about the fact that you are a Jew.” I felt her hand on my shoulder. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “And it bothers you.” “Yes, Mama.”

  “But I want you to remember this day. Because this is the way life is for us. If you accept it and live within the limitations, you can have a good life. If you try to get beyond it, you will only have trouble.”

  When I finished chopping the cabbage, Mama put it in a pot to boil on the stove. Then she went to the front room for a rest. While she rested, I slipped away from the kitchen to Grandma’s bedroom. Walking as quietly as possible, I made my way to the dresser and opened the jewelry box, being careful not to make a sound. I took the locket and necklace from my pocket, held it up for one last look, then lowered it into its place at the corner of the tray.

  A feeling of satisfaction came over me as I closed the lid. In spite of all that had transpired that day, no one would ever know what had happened. Taking the locket from the box, wearing it to school, losing it on the floor and finding it again—all of that would be a secret I could keep to myself. In only a few seconds the sense of satisfaction turned to smug self-confidence. I was a clever girl.

  As I turned to leave the room, feeling warm inside and sure of myself, I found Mama standing behind me. My heart sank as her eyes bore in on me.

  “Your father told you to leave that necklace alone.” When I didn’t respond she pressed the issue. “Didn’t he tell you to leave it in that jewelry box?”

  “Yes. He did.”

  “And you disobeyed him.” “Yes, Mama.”

  “And that is what the trouble was about in school.” “How did you know?”

  “People talk.”

  “David told you.”

  “No. Your brother did not tell me. He did not have to. I already knew before he got home.”

  An awful sense of guilt and shame came over me. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Listen to me.” I had expected to hear her fuss at me in an angry voice, but instead she spoke to me in a kind and tender way. “This is what I was telling you about in the kitchen just now. Life imposes limitations on us. I don’t know why, but we must accept them as something God uses to teach us a lesson. You must learn to live within those limitations. If you do not, they will take more from you than your grandmother’s necklace.”

  Tears streamed down my face as she spoke. I could only nod in reply. She put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “But all is well for now. Things worked out. And this will be a matter between us. There is no need for anyone else to know.” I wrapped my arms around her and held on to her with all my might.

  * * *

  Late that afternoon, not long before twilight, Mama sent me to the grocery store. It was located down the street about three blocks. I had to walk past the Eichmann’s house to get there. Unlike earlier in the day, this time I remembered what she told me and stayed away from their house, walking on the opposite side of the street to avoid the possibility of any temptation to stop and talk. The trip didn’t take long. Mama only needed three or four items. I’ve often wondered if she didn’t send me there to give me a chance to practice what she’d said.

  Walking past the Eichmanns’ from the opposite side of the street seemed like more than merely avoiding trouble. It seemed like a statement, like I was shunning them and it made me uncomfortable to do it. So, on my way back home, I cut over to an alley that ran behind the houses on our block and came up that way, to avoid going past the front of their house where someone might see me and wonder why I was walking on the opposite side.

  As I came behind the Eichmanns’ house I heard Karl shouting again. The shades were partway up and I could see him standing in one of the back bedrooms. He was wearing his trousers and just an undershirt with the thin straps that go over the shoulders. Between the shouts I saw him raise his arm in the air and then come down with something in his hand. When he did it a second time I could see he was holding a leather belt. And I heard his voice. “You want to hang around young Jew girls? Is that it? You’d rather do that than schoolwork? Well, think about this!” And then he swung the belt again. From the things he said, I knew he was talking to Adolf, and from the way he stood and the angle of his head, I was certain Adolf was on the floor.

  All thought of my conversation with Mama flew from my head. I crept up to the house and peeked through the window. Sure enough, Karl was standing over Adolf, berating him with his words and beating him with the belt. Large red welts showed on his arms and legs.

  “How could anyone be so stupid?!” Karl shouted. “Haven’t I taught you better?”

  A door to the room opened and Maria, Adolf ’s stepmother, appeared. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “This is between me and my son,” Karl retorted.

  “No, this is too much.” She strode across the room and snatched the belt from his hand. “You cannot do this to him.” She reached down and helped Adolf from the floor. “I will not allow it. Next you’ll be beating me.”

  Frustrated and angry, Karl pushed his way past them and stormed from the room. I stood there at the window, mesmerized by what I’d just witnessed. Then I noticed Maria looking in my direction. She wagged her finger at me and waved with her hand in a shooing gesture. Moments later, the back door flew open and Karl appeared on the screened porch.

  I backed away from the window, hoping he didn’t see me and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but
it was all to no avail. His voice boomed out loud and rough. “Stupid Jews!” he shouted. His face was red and the veins in his neck throbbed. “You’ve ruined our country and now you think you can ruin my family?”

  I backed away quickly, but when he started toward door I broke into a run. “You better run!” he yelled. “And don’t come around here again!” A rock flew past my head and another struck the ground beside me, but I didn’t look back. I kept my head down and ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

  The following afternoon, I did not see Adolf as I walked home from school. The day after that, I stationed myself along the route home and waited for him a few blocks from our street. Still, he did not appear nor was he seen throughout the week. When he wasn’t there on Friday, I was worried. Something was wrong.

  Yes, Mama had told me not to go to the Eichmann residence and to leave him alone, and his father had warned me never to come back there again, but I had to find out what had happened to Adolf. I felt responsible and he was my friend. So, Friday afternoon, when he still wasn’t there, I walked around to the café where I had seen Karl the day when we were coming from Grandma’s funeral, and I checked to see if he was there. Sure enough, Karl was seated at a table near the window with five or six of his friends, laughing and having a good time. From the number of steins and empty glasses on the table it looked as though they’d consumed several beers already.

  With Karl away, I ran back to our street and down to Adolf ’s house. I stepped quickly onto the porch and without hesitation knocked on the door. In a few moments, the door opened and Maria appeared. “What are you doing here?” She sounded startled and looked past me to glance up and down the street. Seeing no one to notice us, she looked down at me, trying to make her face seem stern and unyielding, but I knew she liked me. “You heard what my husband said. If he finds you here, you’ll be in trouble. You and all of your family.”

  “I came to see about Adolf.”

  “Adolf?” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “What about him?”

  “I haven’t seen him on the way home from school this week. He’s always walking this way when I come home and he hasn’t been there at all this week. I wanted to know if he’s all right.”