“Not here.”
Despite everything, there were little pleasures. When the tale-bearing janitors were soundly asleep, Blanca and Sonia would take out the pot of compote and serve anyone who was hungry.
44
THUS PASSED THE WINTER. In the spring Sonia got into another fight with Elsa and she was fired, just as Elsa had threatened. Sonia stuck to her guns and didn’t mince words.
“This isn’t a home for people,” she said, “it’s a prison. I’m going to walk through the streets of Blumenthal and tell everyone that there’s a jail in the middle of their city where they torture old people.” Before she left, she addressed the residents.
“People are born in the image of God,” she said, “and they have to preserve His image.” She was about to say more, but the two janitors took hold of her and dragged her outside. Even after she was outside, she didn’t hold her tongue.
“A jailer, not a woman!” she shouted. “That’s what she is.”
In the evening Blanca sneaked out to the Lilac Café, where she used to sit between shifts. Sonia was waiting for her. It was the Sonia she knew so well, but somehow different. A storm raged in her eyes, and every gesture throbbed with anger. Sonia told Blanca that she intended to leave for Galicia on the very next train. She spoke about Galicia with fervor, like someone speaking about his beloved native city.
They sipped brandy and drank coffee, and Sonia talked about outer freedom and inner freedom, and about the obligation to destroy institutions like Elsa’s old age home, to set the tormented old people free. Blanca was alarmed. Sonia’s face was firm with the resolve of believers who had removed all fear from their hearts. Blanca tried to get her to delay her departure, but Sonia said that Austria was a prison and that she must reach Kolomyja as soon as possible to purify herself from this contamination.
They sat for a while in silence, and then Blanca saw Sonia to the railroad station. The station was dark and enveloped in a damp fog. The train soon arrived, and Sonia said, “Blanca, you also have to free yourself from the bonds that they put on your hands and feet, and go forth from bondage to freedom, to the place where your ancestors worshipped God.” Fire burned in her face, but her words were serene, rising from a tranquil heart. The train rushed away, and for quite a while Blanca stood where she was in silence. It was hard for her to drag her feet back to the old age home and start the long night shift.
Now the days proceeded heavily, as though stuck in heavy batter. Week after week Blanca would take the train home, sometimes two or three times a week. The nights became a journey of longing for freedom, but with no way out. Kirtzl entrenched herself in the house. Her limbs broadened, and an animal-like satisfaction filled her face. When Blanca asked her why Otto’s skin was so chapped, she answered, “You worry too much. I raised three children, and they’re alive and healthy. Your worries won’t bring him health.”
Adolf would grab Blanca’s wages from her hands and ignore her. She noticed that he also ignored Otto, as though he were a bastard and not his son. Otto grew taller, but his body didn’t fill out. His scrawniness was evident in his exposed ribs and in his face, which became long and thin.
“He has no appetite,” said Kirtzl.
Sometimes in church Adolf would remember Blanca’s presence and stand next to her. In the flat shoes she wore now, she came to just below his shoulder. If he wanted to crush her, he could do it with one shove.
Why am I so frightened? she kept asking herself. She drank more and more. Drinking filled her with waves of warmth, but not with words. How strange, she thought as she spoke to Sonia in her mind. There are no words in my mouth. Once I knew how to talk, how to express things in detail and with precision, but now, when I stand next to Adolf, my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth and I can’t think of a single sentence with which to answer him.
A change was also taking place in her body. She had already observed that now, when she picked up heavy things, the burden didn’t hurt her. And during that imaginary conversation with Sonia she noticed something else: an arm motion, a reaching upward that didn’t seem to come from within her own body, a gesture that Grandma Carole used to make while she stood at the entrance to the synagogue.
Blanca said to Otto, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll watch over you with all my soul and all my might.” Hearing her voice, Otto opened his eyes wide and laughed, but Blanca was dejected, and in her dejection she began to sob.
On the train one Monday morning Blanca had a few drinks, and she returned to the old age home in a blur. Elsa smelled it on her right away.
“What you do outside isn’t my business,” she said, “but you can’t come here reeking of alcohol. I don’t intend to reprimand you again.”
“I’ll try,” Blanca replied in the tones of a maidservant.
“I’m not talking about trying,” said Elsa.
Now, too, Blanca felt the muteness that blocked her mouth. She rushed to her room, changed clothes, and without delay went to clean the stairs.
The alcohol that Blanca had drunk in the buffet car seeped into her and strengthened her. After cleaning the stairs, she made the beds and mopped the floor. She did all the chores without thinking, and at the end of the day she reported to the dining room and brought trays to those who were eating. The strength of youth, such as she had not even felt in high school, flowed in her arms. One of the old people observed her and said, “What’s happened to you, Blanca?”
“Nothing. Why are you asking, sir?”
“You look different today.”
She soon learned how right the man was. On laundry day she found a diamond ring in one of the smocks. In the past, whenever she had found anything valuable, she quickly returned it to its owner. This time she looked at the ring for a moment and then slipped it into her pocket. After finishing the laundry she thrust the ring into a cleft in the wall.
The theft seemed to have passed unnoticed. But then two weeks later, Mrs. Hubermann discovered that her ring had disappeared, and she burst into tears. All the old people demanded that a worker named Paulina be fired, because stolen jewelry had already been found in her possession. Paulina was summoned to Elsa’s office, and she swore by everything dear to her that she hadn’t stolen a thing. But her oath didn’t help her this time, and she was dismissed. Before leaving, she cursed the residence and the Jews who had plotted against her. The two janitors took hold of her the way they had gripped Sonia and threw her out.
From then on Blanca stole money and jewels, quickly slipping them into her hiding place. Sometimes at night she would go downstairs and fondle them. “I’m not stealing for myself, but for Otto,” she murmured like a slave woman. Contact with the stolen jewels restored to her a moment of joy.
45
BLANCA’S LIFE WAS now submerged in a rigid, impermeable schedule. Shadows clung to all her steps. Once she saw two gendarmes at the entrance of the old age home, and she was sure they had come to arrest her. She was also afraid of the janitors, and of bringing compote to the old people at night. Since Sonia’s departure, Blanca was apprehensive about breaking any of Elsa’s rules. In the past she had sat with the old people, helped them, and stolen food for them. Now she did her duty and departed. A feeling of uncleanliness, similar to what she had felt after her marriage to Adolf, stained her again. She bathed immediately upon finishing a shift, but the feeling didn’t fade away.
Elsa grumbled and threatened to bring the police to make a search and interrogate the staff. Aside from Paulina, who had been fired, there was another worker who had once been caught stealing cheese, and suspicion was now directed at her. No one knew what Elsa would do. After her shift, Blanca would flee to her room and curl up under the blanket.
On the weekends Blanca would return home and surrender her wages to Adolf. Then she would rush to bathe Otto and dress him. Blanca tried to do in one day what a mother does in a week: she washed his clothes, took care of him, and amused him, and on Monday morning she bathed him again and hurried to the railway
station. Because of a change in the schedule, there were no more night trains, and so Blanca was no longer able to return home for a few hours during the week. On Saturdays they let her leave at eleven, and she saw Otto by the late afternoon.
So the summer passed. In the autumn Otto began to cough a lot, and Blanca brought syrup for him from Blumenthal, but the cough didn’t go away. When she wanted to take him to Dr. Nussbaum, Adolf commented, “You’re going to doctors again.”
“Otto’s coughing a lot.”
“We all cough, and nobody dies.”
Blanca spirited Otto out to Dr. Nussbaum. He examined Otto and determined that the cough was serious and that if it wasn’t treated, he was liable to catch pneumonia. Blanca raced straight to the church from the doctor’s office. After the service, a lot of guests came to the house, and she served them sandwiches and drinks. Eventually they all dispersed, and Blanca remained with Otto.
“Mama,” Otto called out clearly.
“What, dear?”
“Sit next to me.”
“I’m sitting.”
“Don’t go away.”
“I’m not going away.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what, dear?”
“Do you have anything nice to give me?”
“I have pudding.”
“Don’t go away.”
“I’m not going.”
Blanca sat and looked at him. A golden light poured onto his face, and he looked like the baby Jesus in the long painting above the altar in church. His face was pure, and his lips were closed tightly in concentration.
“Otto.” The word slipped out of her mouth.
“What, Mama?”
“Nothing.”
Just then the sun went down, and shadows were cast on the walls. Blanca hid her face in her hands, as she had done in her childhood when the fear of death assailed her.
46
A WINTER WITHOUT snow blew over the vacant lots near the old age home. The janitors were busy chopping wood most of the day, and their tight faces grew darker. Aside from their work in the courtyard, they did Elsa’s other bidding: they informed on the other workers and on the residents. But Elsa still didn’t trust them fully, either, and she punished them more than once. The janitors took it in stride. “Life isn’t worth a penny,” they would declare.
Several times Blanca was about to go down to the laundry, remove the jewels from their hiding place, and free herself from the nightmare. In her sleep she saw herself dragged off in handcuffs. Since Sonia had left for the east, Blanca’s life had no horizon or words. She worked from morning till night and was afraid of every shadow.
Sometimes, in the railway station, Blanca would meet a friend from high school or an acquaintance from the past. Those brief encounters left scratches on her heart. On her last trip she had met a friend from elementary school, a girl from a simple family who hadn’t excelled in anything and who also stuttered. The boys used to pick on her, and she would crouch in the hallway and cry. It was a muted, broken sobbing that sounded like a stifled whimper.
“Mina!” Blanca called out. She ran to her and hugged her. Mina hadn’t changed much. Her face was narrow, and her lips trembled a little. Now, too, speech cost her much effort.
“Surely you’re continuing your studies,” said Mina.
“No.”
“But you did so well.”
“I got married.”
“The teachers were so proud of you, and they always used you as an example.”
“They were exaggerating.”
“In my eyes you were a symbol of perfection,” said Mina, hanging her head.
They sat in the station café, and Blanca told her that since her wedding she hadn’t opened a book. She was working in the old age home in Blumenthal, and a woman from the country was taking care of her son.
At the end of the winter, Otto came down with a high fever, and Blanca took him to Dr. Nussbaum. Dr. Nussbaum examined him and directed her to have him hospitalized immediately, so Blanca went to Blumenthal to ask Elsa for leave without pay. To Blanca’s surprise, Elsa was generous this time and authorized her leave without saying a word. She even wished Otto a full recovery. Blanca was so moved that she stood up and said, “Thank God that good and generous people help me.” Then she went to take leave of the old people. They also rose to the occasion, collecting a tidy sum and including some dried fruit and a box of candy. Blanca was so embarrassed she could only say, “I can’t find words to thank you.” Then she left. In the buffet car on the train she drank two brandies and fell asleep. She dreamed that she heard Mina saying, “Nothing can help us, sister, unless we overcome our muteness. Muteness is what paralyzes us.”
Otto was burning with fever, and from day to day his condition worsened. Dr. Nussbaum didn’t leave his bedside, and at night Blanca would sleep next to him and dampen his lips. In her nightmares she saw her mother sitting in a wicker armchair. She was young and was wearing a poplin dress. That was how Blanca would sometimes find her when she came home from school. Blanca usually brought good news, and her mother would say with restraint, “If only the good angels would stay at your side.” It was as though she were suspicious of happiness. At the time Blanca wondered why her mother couldn’t just be happy. Now her meaning had become clear to Blanca: all those years ago she had been anxious about her daughter’s fate.
47
THE FEVER WEAKENED Otto, and his face was as pale as chalk. Dr. Nussbaum didn’t conceal his opinion: “For the moment, he mustn’t be removed from the hospital and you must be at his side, watching over him.”
“And what about my job?”
“They’ll have to extend your leave. I’ll give you a medical certificate.”
Blanca set out for Blumenthal right away to ask Elsa for additional leave. At that cold, clear afternoon hour the tranquillity of the winter’s end wafted from the low neighboring houses. She remembered that time of day from years gone by, and the memory seared her.
When Blanca reached Blumenthal and asked for an extension of her leave, Elsa’s face soured and she said, “We can’t extend your leave, and the choice is up to you.”
“Please, show mercy.”
“Mercy isn’t the issue. It’s order.”
“I’m lost,” Blanca whispered to herself.
Elsa rose from her seat and said, “Don’t pity yourself too much. No one owes you anything. You chose what you chose. We have to suffer in silence without making a fuss.”
Good God, Blanca said to herself. There’s some justice in her meanness.
Blanca went to her room to pack her clothes. The room was in darkness and still full of Sonia’s presence, as if she had left behind some of her essence. It was palpable, spread over the table and the two chairs.
What should I do now? she asked herself.
You have to go downstairs and take the jewels. Blanca heard Sonia’s voice, plainspoken and without a trace of sanctimony. Blanca was fearful, and Sonia spoke again. You have to go downstairs without hesitation. Otto’s life is more important than the Ten Commandments.
Blanca knelt and bowed her head. She felt for the first time that she was in the hands of forces more powerful than she was. Then she went downstairs to the laundry room. The darkness struck her in the face, but she easily found the hiding place. She shoved the jewels into her coat pocket and went upstairs to say good-bye to the old people.
Finally she went over to Tsirl. Tsirl put her hands on Blanca’s head and blessed her. Blanca didn’t understand a word of what she whispered. After the blessing, Blanca kissed her hands and walked to the door.
Tsirl stopped her. “Where are you going, dear?”
“My son is very sick, and I’m going to him.”
“You have nothing to worry about, daughter. You have good protectors above, and God who cures the Jews will also cure your son. What is his name?”
“Otto.”
“The good Lord will w
atch over all the Jews and over him.”
Blanca didn’t move. The wings of the blessing hovered over her, and afterward, too, on her way to the train, she still felt the soft touch of the words. But later, when she was close to Heimland and felt the weight of the jewels in her pocket, she got up and stood next to the window, exactly the way her late father had done when all hope was lost and despair had gripped him.
When Adolf heard that Blanca had been dismissed, he seethed with rage and slapped her face. Blanca burst into tears. Her weeping inflamed his fury, and he heaped words on her: “Just not to work, just to sit in the house, just to feed your weakness.”
“I’ll keep working,” she said, trying to mollify him, but it didn’t work. He stamped his feet.
Blanca worked in the hospital now. On Sundays she would come home, hand her wages over to Adolf, and prepare refreshments for the guests. Her mother-in-law, who came to visit Otto, said, “Otto’s sick again. What will be with him? There’s something out of order in him. He’s sick all the time.”
Blanca looked her right in the eyes and said, “Dr. Nussbaum says he’ll be a sturdy young man.”
“Let’s hope so. But I can’t see it. Doctors always make promises and never keep them. By the way, Blanca, you should change your name. A name like yours is an obstacle.”
“Father Daniel already gave me a name.”
“When?”
“After the baptism.”
“So why don’t you use it?”
“It’s strange to change your given name.”
“What’s strange about it? If the name is harmful, you have to change it. In two or three years Otto will be going to school. Everyone will know right away that his mother’s name is Blanca. You don’t have to display your defects. By the way, what name did Father Daniel give you?”
“Hilda.”
“A nice old name. In the village where I was born, that was a common name.”
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