Too Many Men

by Lily Brett

  They had bought the roses at an open-air market. The market had had a life force that was scarce in Lódz. Rows and rows of brown eggs had suggested a fecundity, a fertility that appeared at odds with the matte gray sky and flat air. Mounds of big round brown onions and bright red potatoes seemed to be bursting with life. The carrots looked strong and orange. Not pale like most city carrots. And the cabbages as big as beach balls seemed almost carnal. The street market had buoyed Ruth’s spirits. The people shopping at the market had looked less grim than most of the other residents of Lódz. They had seemed more robust. Almost cheerful.

  Ruth and Edek had planned to catch a tram to Kamedulska Street. But all the trams were crowded. And Ruth didn’t want to stand in the middle of a crowd of Poles. All of the yellow and white trams in Lódz, were always packed. Packed with dour passengers. All immobile. All frowning. Jammed in on their way to somewhere. Ruth wondered why the trams were always packed. The buses were always crowded, too. Where were all of these Poles going?

  “Shall we go inside?” she said to her father.

  “We got the flowers and the chocolates,” he said. “Why not?”

  In the hallway, Ruth was distracted by the ceiling. The ceiling was patched in several places. Large rough patches of brown concrete had been

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  smeared over what must have been cracks and leaks. It was a particularly unpalatable shade of brown. The ceiling looked shit-stained. Patched and repaired with excrement.

  “I’m sorry I made you come to Poland,” she said to Edek.

  “You did not make me,” Edek said.

  “It was my idea,” said Ruth.

  “Maybe it was not such a bad idea to see how it looks now,” Edek said.

  “You’re just being nice to me,” Ruth said. “I don’t feel at all good, in Poland.”

  “Who would feel good in such a place?” Edek said.

  “Looks like not even the Poles,” Ruth said. “They don’t look like the happiest people on earth, do they?”

  “Shoosh,” he said to her. “Do not speak like this.”

  “Nobody in this building understands English, I’m sure,” she said.

  “Anyway, why do we care about offending them? I don’t care if I offend them.” Edek shook his head and walked up the stairs. “Sorry, Dad,” she said. “I know this is not easy for you.”

  Ruth and Edek stood outside the door of the apartment. Edek must have stood in this very spot so many times in his life, Ruth thought. He was still living there with his mother and father when he was twenty-one and twenty-two. He was there for part of his twenty-third year. Ruth looked at the door of the apartment. She felt a sense of dread. She wished she was back in New York. Back in New York, where the unfamiliar was more familiar than anything here.

  “Come on,” said Edek. “Let us go in.” He knocked loudly on the door.

  Ruth was surprised by the vehemence in his knock. She thought that she herself wouldn’t have had so much boldness in her knock. Her knock would probably have been timid. A timidity designed to hide her rage.

  A woman opened the door. At first glance, it appeared as though the woman had an exceptionally large head. Then Ruth realized it was the woman’s hair that was huge. Some of this oversized hair was held in place by a scarf. The hair was bright red. The scarf that was attempting to restrain the hair was green. Ruth was disconcerted by both the color coor-dination and the volume of hair. Elderly women didn’t usually possess such unruly hair. And the red and green looked terrible together. Of course, Ruth realized, this red expanse of hair was not growing on the T O O M A N Y M E N

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  woman’s head. It was a wig. It was somebody else’s hair. Or maybe it was nylon.

  The woman’s face was lined and hard. She smiled at them. Her features rearranged themselves for the smile. Her face remained hard. “Come in, come in,” she said. Her lips stayed almost fixed while she mouthed a series of obsequious welcome greetings. Ruth felt frightened. She walked behind Edek into the apartment. The old woman looked carefully at the gifts of roses and chocolates, and then handed them to her husband. “Sit down, sit down,” she said. She took the rocking chair for herself. Ruth and Edek sat, facing her, on the sofa. It was warm in the apartment. Ruth was shivering.

  She moved closer to her father. Edek looked at her. “I’m just a bit cold,”

  she said.

  “There was nothing in this building,” the old woman said. “When I moved here, the whole building was empty.” Ruth was startled. How could the woman lie like that? Ruth knew she had understood what the woman had said. “She moved in in early 1940,” Ruth said to Edek. “Everything was still here.” Edek asked the woman if the building had other tenants when she had arrived. “No one else was here,” she said. “The building was empty.” The old woman had said this facing Ruth. Ruth tried to hide her expression of disbelief.

  “We have a lot of trouble with this building,” the woman said. “Nobody will fix anything, as you can see. It is a broken-down building and not worth any money at all.”

  “I am not at all interested in reclaiming the building, kind madam,”

  Edek said. “What do I want to trouble myself with a building in Lódz for?

  Please, kind madam, I live in Australia, on the other side of the world.

  What use would I have for this building?”

  “Nobody pays their rents,” the old woman said. “So you would not make any money from this building.”

  “Of course not, madam,” Edek said.

  “The tenants would pay rent, of course, if someone looked after the repairs needed,” she said.

  “Of course,” Edek said.

  “It would not be easy to get this building from the current owner,” the old woman said with a sigh. She rolled her eyes. “The owner is a very difficult man.”

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  “Please, please, please,” Edek said. “I did not come here to try to reclaim the building.” Edek looked at Ruth. “Do you understand what she is saying?” he said.

  “I can understand what she’s saying,” Ruth said.

  What were they terrified of? Ruth wondered. If the current landlord was so mean wouldn’t anyone else be preferable? Even a Jew? Probably not, she thought. Not if the Jew was around, in person. Maybe that prospect was what was frightening them. The thought of Jews returning was clearly not a palatable thought.

  “Tell her this is the last place on earth you’d want to live in,” Ruth said to Edek. He ignored her. “I meant, tell her you’re committed to your life in Australia. You wouldn’t possibly be in a position to move back to Lódz.”

  Edek looked puzzled. “I just want her to know that there’s no chance she’s going to be surrounded by Jews again.”

  Edek explained that he was not planning to return. The old woman looked relieved. “Ask her if there wasn’t anything small left behind,” Ruth said. “Like mezuzahs, or candles or photographs. Tell her you’re only interested in those things of no value other than their sentimental value to you.”

  “There was nothing here,” the old woman said. “Nothing?” Ruth said to Edek. “That is impossible. No one cleared the apartments out of all of the inconsequential stuff or anything else. A few Gestapo officers might have looked for valuables, but everything else was left just as it was.”

  “There was not one thing in any of the apartments in this building,” the woman said. She was still wearing her scarf. She must keep it on all the time, to contain that wild wig, Ruth thought.

  “There were no books, no photographs?” Edek said.

  “I have said to you,” the woman said, “there was nothing.” The old man came out of the kitchen.

  “I can vouch for that,” he said. “I came not too long after her and the place was completely empty.”

  Edek winced. Ruth looked at him. His face was contorted.

  “Are you all right?” she said.
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  “I am fine, fine,” he said. But he didn’t look fine. “I did see, in the corner, a bowl which did belong to my mother,” Edek said to her. Ruth looked shocked. “Please,” Edek said. “Do not let her see that I saw this.”

  Ruth looked in the corner. On top of a small chest of drawers was an T O O M A N Y M E N

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  ornate, engraved oval silver serving dish. She started trembling. “Do not look at it, she will see,” Edek said. Ruth tried not to stare at the oval silver bowl.

  “There was nothing in this building,” the woman said. “The Jews took everything with them.”

  “So she knew that it was Jews who lived here?” Ruth said. “At least she’s admitting something.”

  As though she had understood what Ruth had just said the old woman said, “Everybody knew this was the Jewish area,” to Edek. Ruth thought that her tone must have alerted the old woman to what she was saying.

  “Of course, of course,” Edek said to the old woman.

  “Ask her where all the Jews went.” Ruth said. Edek asked.

  “The Jews moved to bigger apartments,” the woman said.

  “Jews are always moving on to bigger and better things,” Ruth said to Edek.

  “I wasn’t here when the Jews moved out,” the old man said.

  No one appeared to have been there when the Jews moved out, Ruth thought. No Poles at all. Where had they all been when that endless strag-gling procession of Jews, carting whatever possessions they could, had walked through Lódz? Were the Poles out celebrating? Did they know they would soon be relocating to the dwellings that the Jews were forced to leave? For the poorer Poles, it must have been quite a bonanza, quite a bonus. It must have seemed like Christmas.

  “Could we offer to buy the silver serving dish?” Ruth said to Edek.

  “Please,” Edek said. “Do not look at it. She will see you.”

  “I’d really like to buy it,” Ruth said.

  “What for?” said Edek.

  “I’d just like to keep it with me,” Ruth said. “To hold it and look at it.”

  “It is not a person,” Edek said. “It is just a dish.”

  “It’s probably solid silver,” Ruth said.

  “My father liked to buy silver for the table for Shabbes, ” Edek said.

  They were both quiet.

  “I didn’t know anything about what was happening to the Jews,” the old woman said. “I knew nothing myself,” the old man said. “I was in Cze˛stochowa.”

  “It wasn’t happening to the Jews of Cze˛stochowa?” Edek said to the old

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  man. Edek looked uncomfortable as soon as he had said this, as though the sentence had propelled itself out of its own accord. Edek shifted uneasily on the sofa. Ruth could see he was distressed at what he had blurted out. She could see that it was far more accusative than he had intended. Ruth smiled at the old man, in an effort to dilute the discomfort.

  No one spoke.

  Ruth diverted her desire to stare at the silver dish by gazing at the front door. A stand was filled with an assortment of hats and something furry.

  Ruth thought it could have been a large cat. She looked more closely. It was an assortment of wigs. Different colored wigs. Worn-out wigs. One wig slumped on top of the other. Why did anyone need so many wigs? And why leave them on display near the front door? They were so unsightly. A mot-ley moth-eaten collection of wigs. Was the old woman bald? Ruth wondered. Did she grab a wig on her way out of the door in the way that other people picked up a hat? The wigs made Ruth feel a bit sick. The old woman saw Ruth staring at the wigs. Ruth looked away. She didn’t want to offend her yet.

  “Ask her if there is anyone else in the building who might know of any photographs or other articles left behind,” Ruth said to Edek.

  “There is nobody else who was there at the time,” the old woman said when Edek asked.

  “Nobody else,” her husband added.

  “Jengelef Boleswaf died ten years ago,” the woman said.

  “Jengelef Boleswaf?” said Edek. “He was our caretaker.”

  “He lived on the third floor,” said the woman.

  “He did live in the basement before,” Edek said to Ruth.

  “So there were no documents, nothing?” Ruth said. Edek talked to the woman for several minutes.

  “She does say that every single apartment was empty when she came,”

  he said.

  “Oh, well,” Ruth said to Edek. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here for us.”

  She moved and went to stand up.

  The old man beckoned her to stay put.

  “He is bringing us a cup of tea,” Edek said to Ruth.

  “Can’t we say we don’t want it?” she said. She felt exhausted.

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  Exhausted by the woman’s intransigence. Exhausted by the decrepit, depressing, disintegration all around them.

  “How do you live in Australia?” the old woman asked Edek.

  “Tell her every Jew has a swimming pool, a yacht, and a Mercedes in Australia,” Ruth said. Edek laughed despite himself. Edek’s laugh reassured Ruth. She calmed down.

  It was naive of her, she thought, to think that she would be given anything by these Poles, even a fragment of seemingly inconsequential information.

  Ruth could see that Edek was depressed by these surroundings, too. “Don’t be depressed by this, Dad,” she said. “This is not your home. Your home vanished along with all of its occupants. A home is made up of who is in it.”

  “You are right,” Edek said.

  The old man brought in the tea. “We’ll drink some of the tea and leave,”

  Ruth said to her father. The old man smiled at Ruth. He put the tea and some biscuits on a small table next to Ruth. Six, horseshoe-shaped biscuits were placed on a white plate with a gold, fluted edge. There was a matching teapot, sugar bowl, and milk jug. They had clearly brought out their best china, Ruth thought. The man came back with four matching cups and saucers.

  He poured Ruth a cup of tea. It was very strong tea. Almost black. Ruth wasn’t sure she could stomach such strong tea. She decided that she needed a drink. She turned to Edek to ask him if he could ask for some hot water.

  She could see straightaway that something was wrong. Edek looked very pale. Ruth’s heart started to pound. “Are you all right, Dad?” she said.

  He didn’t answer her. “Dad,” she said, “Are you all right?” A bolt of fear ran through her. How would she get her father to a hospital if he was not well? What was the Polish word for ambulance?

  “I am all right,” Edek said weakly.

  “Are you in pain?” Ruth said. Edek shook his head. He didn’t look well.

  “You sure? You’ve got no chest pain, no shortness of breath?” Ruth said.

  Edek shook his head. “No shooting pains in the arms?” Ruth said.

  “I am all right,” Edek said.

  “Let’s take you to a doctor,” Ruth said.

  “I do not need a doctor,” said Edek. “I just did get a shock.”

  “Of course this has been a shock for you,” Ruth said. “It’s a big shock to be in your own home and see so starkly how everything is gone.”

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  “I knew it was all gone,” Edek said. He sounded a bit more like his old self.

  “We shouldn’t have come,” Ruth said. “We knew there was nothing here.”

  “The teapot and the milk and sugar things did belong to my mother,”

  Edek said. “The spoons, too.”

  “Oh, no,” Ruth said. No wonder Edek had looked ill. She started to cry.

  “Do not cry,” Edek said. “It is too late to cry.”

  “My daughter is very emotional,” Edek said to the couple. “She gets upset easily.”

  “Can we leave, Dad?” Ruth said.

  “We have not finished the
tea,” said Edek. He drank his tea while Ruth sat next to him and wept.

  “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Edek said to the old man and woman as they were leaving. The old man took Ruth’s hand and went to kiss it. She squirmed as his stained brown teeth moved closer to her hand.

  She pulled her hand away. She tried to smile at the man, but she couldn’t stop crying. She wiped her hand on the side of her coat. She wanted to wipe away the man’s touch.

  Edek and Ruth walked down the stairs. Ruth tried to pull herself together. She shouldn’t fall apart like this. She should be looking after her father.

  “Do you think she thought you wouldn’t recognize the china?” Ruth said to Edek.

  “Who knows?” said Edek. “To tell you the truth it did give me a big shock. I remember my mother pouring tea from this teapot many many times.”

  “It was a beautiful teapot,” Ruth said. “The old couple obviously keep it for important occasions.”

  “We did use this every day,” Edek said. “My mother had two sets with twelve cups and plates so that sometimes if the whole family was there, we could all have a cup of tea.”

  “I can’t believe that the old woman served us tea in that service,” Ruth said. “Maybe she’s had it for so long she really thinks it was always hers.

  Maybe she’s forgotten where she got it from.”

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  “Maybe,” said Edek. “It is not worth it to try to think about what she thinks.”

  They walked down the rest of the stairs. Ruth looked at the backyard. It was barren. Cracked concrete with weeds growing in the cracks. A row of four outhouses were at the back of the yard.

  “They was the toilets for the whole building,” Edek said. Ruth could smell the toilets.

  “Judging by the smell,” she said, “they are still being used.”

  “We did have an inside toilet,” Edek said. “Not many people did have an inside toilet.” Edek walked over to a corner of the yard. Ruth didn’t follow him. She thought she should allow him some time on his own. She walked away from the toilets.

  A large brown dog wandered into the yard. Ruth moved away from the dog. The dog followed her.

  “There’s a dog in the yard,” Ruth called out to Edek. “Don’t let him get too close to you,” she said. Edek turned to look at the dog.