Too Many Men

by Lily Brett

  Edek put his face in his hands. “The doctor did say to me,” he said,

  “that this baby should not be living in barracks. Especially as it would be soon winter. He said this baby needed to have the best doctors.” Edek stopped. “Ruthie, I did never cry so much in my life. I did cry and cry. And then I did have to tell Mum. Before I did tell Mum, the doctor did say to me that he did know about a couple who did want to adopt a child. He did say that this couple was very rich. He did say the couple was neighbors of his. They did want children for a long time. The doctor did say to go to a couple like this was the only chance for the baby.”

  Edek started weeping again. Ruth felt as though every part of her body was shaking. Her brain, her heart, her fingers, her feet. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Mum did already breast-feed the baby,” Edek said. “She was so happy with him. ‘He is a beautiful baby, Edek,’ she did say to me.” Edek’s voice broke, again.

  “Do you want to have a break, Dad?” Ruth said. “Would you like to go for a walk or get some fresh air?” Edek shook his head.

  “Mum and me we did make the decision together,” Edek said. “Mum did feel that what was wrong with the baby was because of her.”

  “How?” said Ruth.

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  “Because of the things what they did do to her, in the camps,” Edek said. “She did say her insides was not clean.”

  “That is terrible,” Ruth said. Tears ran down her face. “Mum felt it was her fault.”

  “They did terrible things to your mum,” Edek said.

  “I know,” said Ruth.

  “Ruthie, no one, not even me, can know how terrible,” Edek said.

  “I know,” she said.

  “The doctor did tell us he would organize the adoption,” Edek said.

  Edek looked as though he was unable to continue. He looked down at his lap, and swallowed several times. “Your mum, Ruthie,” he said, “did say that we have to give this baby the best chance to have a life. And she did say that the baby’s best chance was not to stay with us.” Tears were running down Edek’s face.

  “The doctor did say it was for the best for the baby if Mum did breast-feed the baby for two weeks,” Edek said. “Mum did say she would do everything what was best for the baby. The doctor did move us to a little house, in the town of Feldafing, for two weeks. Mum did cry for the whole two weeks.” Edek looked at Ruth. “Are you all right, Ruthie?” he said.

  “I’m all right,” she said. Her chest felt tight. She tried to undo her bra through her shirt. It finally opened. Maybe undoing her bra would help her to breathe, she thought.

  “We did organize a circumcision,” Edek said. “There was a mohel in the DP camp who was from Poland. On the night before the circumcision we did have a vachnacht, a night of watching. It was such a custom among some Jews to watch the baby the night before the circumcision. Mum did want this. She did say we did have to do everything what we could. So we did ask people from the camp to come and pray for the baby. All night we did sit around the baby and pray. People did do this to make sure that no evil spirits did get to the baby on the night before the circumcision. My cousin Herschel was there. He did pray all night, too.”

  Edek looked at Ruth. “You do not look so good, Ruthie,” he said.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Do you want me to finish the story?” Edek said. Ruth nodded. “The doctor did bring us all the papers for the adoption,” Edek said. “Mum and me did sign them and Mum did say to the doctor that she would give the

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  baby to him the next day. Mum did want to have one last ceremony for her beautiful baby boy,” Edek said. He stopped speaking and started to weep again.

  “We did have a name-changing ceremony for our little boy,” he said, after a couple of minutes. “Some Jews did believe that it was necessary to change the name of a sick person. They did believe that if you did change the name, any evil spirits what did want to do the sick person harm, would be confused. Herschel did organize a minyan. Ten men to pray for the baby. They did come and pray. They did tell God that this sick baby was no longer called Israel. He was now to be known as Chaim.” Edek paused. “It did make Mum feel better. She did say she did not know if there was a God or not, but it was for the best to do everything possible for the baby. Of course, the German couple would give the baby straightaway another name. I do not think a German couple would want a son what is called Chaim.”

  Edek breathed out deeply. He looked exhausted. Collapsed. “There are some things, Ruthie, it is for the best not to think about,” he said. “I been trying not to think about this, for many years. I been trying not to think about too many things for too many years.”

  “I know, Dad,” she said. “I know.” She felt numb. Numbed by the pain of Edek’s and Rooshka’s lives. Why had it been necessary for them to experience so much pain? She shook her head. That was a stupid question.

  There was no answer to that question.

  “I know Rooshka did never forget,” Edek said. “Every time she did look at me I did know that she was thinking about it. I did ask her once when she was looking very miserable if she think of the baby. She did say that if I did say one word to her about the baby, she would do something that she would regret. This was when we was already in Australia. I did not know what she did mean, but I did never mention it to her again.”

  Ruth looked around her. She was glad that the lobby was empty. This was not a time to be shared with anybody else.

  “I did take a photograph of the baby,” Edek said. “Mum was angry. She did say that if we are going to give him away, he will be out of our lives, so why should we pretend with a photograph that he is part of us.”

  “He would always be part of you,” Ruth said. She picked up the photograph and looked at it. “He is a very beautiful baby,” she said.

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  “He was a very beautiful baby,” Edek said. “Not he is.”

  “He had a lot of hair,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Edek. “Like you, he did have a lot of hair.”

  Her own birth, Ruth thought, must have been a nightmare for her mother. Another baby. Another baby to lose. She wished Rooshka was here, so she could tell her that she understood. Understood how difficult Rooshka’s life had been. She wanted her mother to know that she, Ruth, held nothing against Rooskha. Not the haircut, not the diets, not anything.

  “Mum did say it would be harder if we did have a photograph of the baby,” Edek said. “Mum did tell me to throw away the photograph. But I did not want to throw it away. I had nowhere, in the barracks, to hide it from Mum, so I did give it to Herschel. Herschel did want to go back to Kamedulska Street. He did live there, too, on the top floor.”

  “So, he went back?” Ruth said.

  “Herschel did say Kamedulska Street was still more his home than the barracks. When he did get there, he did see it was no more his home. He did not know what to do with the photograph, so he did bury it there. He did tell me when he did get back to Feldafing.” Edek started to cry again.

  Ruth put her arm around him. She had stopped trembling. She was still numb. Still in a daze. She hugged Edek.

  “I’m sorry you had to relive all of this, for me,” she said.

  “It did live with me all the time anyway, Ruthie,” Edek said. “This is not something what a person does forget.” He took another deep breath.

  “Mum did blame me,” he said. “I always did feel this. She did blame me.

  We all do need to blame someone. Mum had no one to blame for so many things. So, she did blame me for this.” He put his head in his hands. “I did understand,” he said. “She did have too many people to blame for too many things. But it is too hard to blame hundreds of people. It is impossible to blame hundreds of people, so she did blame me for this one thing.

  That we did give our baby away. And to
tell you the truth, I did blame myself, too.” Tears ran down his face.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Dad,” Ruth said.

  “I think we did make the wrong decision,” Edek said. “I did feel ashamed my whole life.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Ruth said. “You were trying to do your best for a child who would require a lot of care. You did nothing wrong. You

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  gave him a chance. You couldn’t look after him. You and Mum were so battered, so powerless, so bereaved, so homeless. You loved the baby. You wanted to do the best for him.”

  “Me and Rooshka did cry for a long time for this baby,” Edek said. “In a way this decision to give the baby away did build such a brick between us.

  Do you understand what I mean?”

  “You mean the decision created a wedge between you,” Ruth said.

  “That is it,” Edek said. “A wedge. It did build a wedge between us. We did know always that we did do this. And it was not a good feeling. Mum did see the love she did have for me as a good thing, the only good thing in her life, before this. After that, the love she did feel for me was mixed up with the decision about the baby. Her love for me did never look so good to Mum again.”

  Edek and Ruth were both weeping now. “But Mum loved you,” Ruth said.

  “She did love me,” Edek said. “But it was never again in the same way.”

  Edek stopped for a moment. “I did know, Ruthie,” he said, “that when I did sign the adoption papers, I did sign away part of the rest of all of my time on this earth. And I did know,” he said through his tears, “that for Mum it was the same.”

  “You did nothing wrong, Dad,” Ruth said. “And neither did Mum.

  Nothing wrong at all.”

  “I did read many years later that there was an operation to fix up this thing in the heart,” Edek said. “In the newspapers they did call it a hole-in-the-heart operation. But I think this operation came too late for our baby.”

  “Maybe he managed to grow up, and then have the operation,” Ruth said.

  “I do not think so,” said Edek.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?” Ruth said. “It would have been good for me to know.”

  “If I could not speak even with your mum about the baby,” Edek said,

  “it would have been too hard to speak with you. Some things are too much.”

  “I understand,” Ruth said. “But so much of what happened in your life became part of my life. It was impossible to grow up unaffected. The things T O O M A N Y M E N

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  that happened to you and to Mum became part of my life. Not the original experiences, but the effects of the experiences.”

  “I understand, Ruthie,” Edek said.

  “It’s easier for people to think that children born after the war were not affected,” Ruth said. “But they were. They had to be affected. Enormously affected. No matter how much everyone wanted to protect them from what happened, and to separate them from what happened, they couldn’t. It was impossible.”

  “I can see this now,” said Edek.

  “You said that what was buried had nothing to do with me,” Ruth said.

  “You said that in Kraków.”

  “This did happen years before you was born,” Edek said.

  “But it does have something to do with me,” she said.

  “It is just a picture,” Edek said. “A photograph.”

  “It is still a brother,” she said. “My brother.” Saying those two words made her feel breathless. “My brother.” What extraordinary words. She started gasping for air.

  “Are you okay, Ruthie?” Edek said.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “It was just saying those words, ‘my brother,’ made me very tense. Made me unable to breathe.” She took a deep breath.

  “This is not your brother,” Edek said. “This is a picture of your brother.

  You have to column down, Ruthie. This is a picture of a person what is probably not alive.”

  “I think he is,” Ruth said. As soon as she said the words, a sense of calm descended on her. Her heart stopped pounding. She felt curiously still.

  Edek looked shocked.

  “You do not know what you are saying, Ruthie,” he said. “You are too upset. You do need a rest.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe.”

  She shouldn’t have said that, she thought. The words had flown out of her. Propelled by a strange force. A force that seemed separate from the rest of her. She had uttered the words without knowing where they had come from. Suddenly she thought about Gerhard Schmidt, Martina’s husband. Could it be possible that Gerhard was the baby Edek and Rooshka gave away? That was absurd, she thought. She was clutching at straws. She remembered Martina saying that Gerhard had written a play about Ger-

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  man parents who adopt a Jewish baby. Adoption was a common enough fantasy, Ruth thought. Many children had fantasies about being adopted.

  And Gerhard was a writer. Writers wrote out their fantasies. She thought of Martina saying that Gerhard’s mother had cried at the play. Any mother would cry at that theme, Ruth thought. Gerhard couldn’t possibly be the baby. It was too far-fetched.

  Gerhard tapped his foot, she thought. That was a ridiculous link, Ruth thought. Foot tapping couldn’t possibly be hereditary. “His parents treated him like glass,” Martina had said. That could be a clue. A clue to what? she thought. A clue to something that was not possible. In order to placate herself, she decided, she would call Martina Schmidt. With a start, she remembered she didn’t have Martina’s phone number or her address. She would ring the Lódz Film School, she thought. Surely the Lódz Film School would have a forwarding address.

  “What date was the baby born?” Ruth said to Edek.

  “He was born on the seventh day of September, 1946,” Edek said. Ruth added up the dates. They came to eight. Gerhard Schmidt was told by a numerologist that he was looking for a number eight, she remembered Martina Schmidt saying. But was Gerhard himself an eight? Why was she even thinking about this? Ruth thought. She didn’t believe in numerology.

  “So my birthday was a day before the baby’s birthday, a decade later,”

  she said.

  “Yes,” said Edek. “Rooshka did not want to have you born on the same day. She did walk up and down the house all day. All day, she did say, ‘This baby will be born today.’ Finally, five minutes before twelve o’clock at night, you was born. Mum was so happy. She did think it would bring you bad luck to be born on the same day. I did say to her, ‘Rooshka, days and numbers do not bring bad luck.’ But she would not listen.”

  “I’m tired, Dad,” Ruth said. “I’m going to go to my room for a while.”

  “Me, too,” said Edek. “Maybe I will read a book.”

  “Is As Blood Goes By good?” Ruth said.

  “It was not bad,” Edek said. “I did finish it last night.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve already finished it,” Ruth said.

  “I got a new one,” Edek said. “It is my last one what I brought with me to Poland.”

  “What is it called?” said Ruth.

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  “The Cross-Eyed Stranger,” Edek said.

  “I hope it’s good,” Ruth said.

  “It does look good, already,” Edek said. “It is lucky that we are going to New York, I can buy some more books.”

  “You’ll be able to buy plenty more in New York,” Ruth said.

  Ruth sat in her room. She felt worn out. She had to stop thinking about numbers and babies and heart operations. She thought about the fortune-teller at the circus. The one who had told her, when she was sixteen, that a man with a scar would play a large part in her life. She shook her head. She had to stop thinking like this. She didn’t believe in fortune-tellers. She didn’t believe in predictions of any sort. Anywa
y, if that fortune-teller was so good, Ruth thought, why had she had to sell soft drinks as well as predict the future?

  The scar was large, the fortune-teller had said. A large scar that ran vertically from the top of the rib cage to the waist. Ruth was suddenly seized with a need to know what sort of scar a hole-in-the-heart operation would leave. She wanted to ring a doctor. She looked at her watch. It was already after office hours in New York.

  Of course cardiac surgery would leave a chest scar. Any layperson could work that out. What did it prove? Nothing. It proved nothing. It suggested that there were many coincidences in life, Ruth thought. And this was something that she already knew. And even if some people had the ability to predict things, it still didn’t mean much. It didn’t mean that the baby had survived. It certainly didn’t mean that the baby was Martina’s husband.

  It probably meant very little.

  Ruth felt frightened. What did it all mean? she thought. Did it mean there was a destiny? A guiding force? There couldn’t be a guiding force. If there was a guiding force, all of the Jews who suffered and died wouldn’t have died and suffered like that. Did some people know what the future held? Did they know bits and pieces of the future? Was there a grand plan?

  She didn’t think so.

  She decided to write herself a list. Writing a list would help her to calm down. She would list the avenues that she could investigate when she was safely at home in New York. When she was back on familiar territory,

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  familiar terrain. Back in a place where not everything seemed tilted. She got out a pen and paper. She headed the list “Things to Investigate in New York.” Underneath the heading she wrote:

  Doctors who worked with DPs in Feldafing.

  Midwives who worked in the Feldafing area.

  Adoption agencies in southern Germany.

  Ring Lódz Film School.

  Place ads in German papers.

  The list made her feel much better. There was a knock on her door. She answered the door. It was Edek.

  “I did just want to see if you was all right,” he said.

  “Come in, Dad,” she said. “I’m okay. I actually feel better than I did before.”