Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  When the two women returned, Gittel went to Jacob’s room. Closing the door behind her, Gittel sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. He almost frightened her. He hadn’t shaved or washed. His hair was unkempt, his eyes were flat, haunting. She took his hand gently and, trying to keep her voice even, said, “Jacob, I wish I had known. I would have been here sooner. You know that, don’t you, Jacob?”

  No answer.

  “Jacob, mama told me everything. You must listen to me. I know how terribly hurt you are. To love someone as you did and not have it returned is very painful. But when you met Lotte you were so young. It was the first time a girl came into your life. Please try to understand, you knew each other a very short time. In fact, you didn’t know each other at all. Maybe if you’d been able to stay and allow your friendship to grow this wouldn’t have happened. But you left, and even one year makes a very big difference, especially in a girl’s life. Lotte grew into a woman. I think what she did was very cruel, but you mustn’t let this ruin your life. She really wasn’t for you. If it had been meant to be, this wouldn’t have happened. Please, please, don’t let this make you so bitter. You’re very young and I know you will meet someone worthwhile…”

  For the first time in five days, Jacob spoke. The anger in his eyes was not for Gittel. “I will never love or trust any woman again. I will never get married…never.” His voice was a monotone but his intensity was beyond doubt.

  Kissing his hand, then holding it to her cheek, Gittel said, “What you feel now is very deep hurt, but time will heal it. You mustn’t think every woman is like Lotte.”

  He flinched at the sound of her name. “I’m not going to find out. You’re the only good woman I know.”

  “Thank you, but mama’s a good woman too.”

  She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten.

  “She did the best she could for us, Jacob. You mustn’t blame her for what you feel she did when you were a little boy. You must forget, Jacob. If you try to punish her you only hurt yourself. Let the past go, Jacob. Forget that, and forget Lotte. For your own sake.”

  Nothing had changed in his expression, but she prayed something of what she’d said would get through. She waited as the long silence hung between them. All that could be said had been said. It would take time for Jacob. Still, in her heart, she knew nothing lasted forever. The threats he made today would change when he met the right girl. She tried very hard to convince herself of that.

  Finally Gittel said, “Jacob, would you do me a favor?” She waited. When he did not answer she continued. “Please get out of bed, take a bath and eat something. You’ll feel better. Will you do it for me, Jacob? Please.” Slowly she pulled back the covers and waited.

  He looked at her. She was right, he decided. I’m damn well not going to let any of them beat me down—no more. Getting out of bed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Like a bum on the docks, he looked.

  Gittel shut her eyes and, in her innocence, thanked God as Jacob opened the door.

  As the months passed, his acute bitterness took another form. Jacob retreated into himself. He stopped going to shul and spoke as little as possible to his mother. He had, in fact, become like a boarder. Each week he paid for his room and board. When Esther tried to refuse it, Jacob told her in no uncertain terms that he would not live on her charity and that if she didn’t stop objecting he would take a room somewhere else.

  Even with Shlomo there was not the closeness they’d once had. And although his love and admiration for Gittel remained, even with her he was remote and withdrawn.

  He had no desire for women, sex was something he now totally rejected.

  The only salvation in his life was his new job. He found employment in a glass factory in New Jersey.

  In spite of the distance, he was the first to arrive and the last to leave. The work was hard, but that was what he needed—to work hard for himself. He was going to go into business, be somebody, his own boss. Not dependent on anybody, on any of them…

  In the next year, Jacob’s salary was raised from nine dollars a week to sixteen. His loyalty as a worker had not gone unnoticed. He had never been late, never grumbled about working overtime, never complained about conditions, did his work, kept to himself and refused to join the men who wanted to organize…Although he was only seventeen he was promoted to foreman.

  When he returned from work at night Jacob used the back door, avoiding Esther and her customers. This evening as he was taking off his coat, he looked across the inner hall to the kitchen and saw a young girl standing at the sink washing dishes. For a moment he was surprised. Was business so good that his mother needed help? He shrugged his shoulders and went to his room where he found Shlomo studying.

  The boy looked up from his book. “You’re home early tonight How come?”

  “Things were a little slow. Where’s mama?”

  “Why do you ask? She’s waiting on customers, didn’t you see her?”

  “No, I came through the back,” he answered, taking off his shirt.

  “Why didn’t you say hello? It wouldn’t hurt, you know.”

  “I was all sweaty. I want to get washed up.”

  “Oh…well…Mama got a girl to help.”

  “I saw,” he answered. Sarcastically he added, “Now, she won’t have to work so hard.”

  “She didn’t do it for that reason,” Shlomo snapped back.

  “No? Then why?”

  “Because the girl had no place to live. And she’s not just a girl, her name is Sara Edelstein.”

  “What does that have to do with her working here?”

  “I just told you, she has no place to live.”

  “Where’s she gonna sleep, in the kitchen?”

  “No, in mama’s room, until she can get a job. In the meantime she’ll help.”

  “So she’s going to live here?”

  “Yes, mama got a cot for her.”

  “In that case, I’m leaving.”

  “Wait a minute, Jacob.” Shlomo jumped up from his chair. “You should be happy mama’s got someone to help her. Besides, what do you care if she stays here?”

  “But I do care. I don’t want a girl…a stranger living—”

  “She’s not a stranger. She’s a distant relative of Hershel’s and her father just died.”

  “But we’re not her relatives…”

  “She doesn’t have anyone else and Gittel likes her, feels sorry for her—which is something that it wouldn’t hurt you to do.”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes on Shlomo. He was about to answer when Shlomo went quickly on. “You know what your problem is? You think no one in the world has suffered quite as much as you. You’re the only one who had a terrible childhood, who ever had a girl turn him down. Everyone else had a great life—”

  “Well, your life was just a little bit easier than mine—”

  “Yes, a whole lot. And mama’s too and Gittel’s—we had all the luxuries.”

  “What’s that got to do with this girl living here? Why doesn’t she live with Gittel?”

  “Because Gittel’s living in two rooms and she’s going to have another baby.”

  Jacob was stunned. “Another baby? When did you find out?”

  “Couple of days ago.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Because you’ve been feeling so sorry for yourself, you’ve kept as far away from all of us as possible.”

  “Okay, all right, I think you told me enough. So I’m a louse, right?”

  “Wrong. Underneath that suit of armor is a very nice person with a good heart. You’re a mensch, Jacob, and being a mensch is the most important thing a person can be.”

  Jacob stood studying Shlomo. The truth hurt, but it was indeed the truth. He had acted like a louse—to his mother, to Gittel, to his own brother.

  Jacob shook his head in wonderment and smiled for the first time in months. Putting his arm around Shlomo’s shoulder, he said, “Remember I once said you’re the smart
est one in your class? I also said you were smarter than me. You are, Shlomo…you are.”

  “I’m not. You’re still the smartest and the best.”

  As Jacob left to clean up, Shlomo said, “And Jacob, it wouldn’t hurt if you went to shul with me.”

  “On Saturday.” Jacob nodded.

  Not that Jacob gave a damn about Sara or any other girl, but he couldn’t help noticing that she was different from anyone he’d ever met—so educated, so…He couldn’t quite fathom how or why she had come to be living in a place like the lower East Side of New York. Of course, Shlomo had told him the reasons, about her father dying and all, but in spite of himself she was a source of curiosity. At night he lay awake in the dark, wondering about the life that had given Sara her elegance and her aura of breeding and culture, but the life he envisioned was quite far from the truth. Jacob would have been shocked had he known that Sara Edelstein’s beginnings were in many ways quite similar to his own. They were just variations on the same theme.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AS HAPPENS WITH A great many people, she knew only the apparent facts of her mother’s and father’s life. And what she knew, she had pieced together. Her mother, then Molly Pollack, was a young girl from Warsaw who worked in a millinery shop. Molly’s family were all dead, except for one brother who had migrated to the United States, to Oakland, California. Sara knew her father had come from a distinguished family that lived in Zurich, but that her parents had married against the vehement protests of his family and were disinherited. It seemed Harry Edelstein was married when he met Molly Pollack. Divorce was unheard of in those times, but nonetheless his wife divorced him. Now he found himself not only disgraced but without any money.

  During his first marriage he had been taken into his father-in-law’s established jewelry business—not as a salesman, but as an elegant manager. Harry knew nothing whatsoever about gems or jewels, but in his case, it wasn’t necessary. His charm and polish, his ability to greet and handle the elite trade on an equal footing was his prime function. He had been raised in an affluent family who felt that a young man had to have a knowledge of art, be well-traveled and accomplished in literature to be suited to take his place in society. If Harry hadn’t been such an impulsive young man, these accomplishments might have secured his life’s future. As it was, after leaving his father-in-law’s business he was completely unprepared to make a living.

  Harry and Molly went to Brussels, where Sara was born a little less than nine months later. Her father had relatives in Brussels who were in the business of manufacturing fine linens, and Harry prevailed on them to give him a job. While they didn’t condone what he had done they were people of compassion and they gave him a job. However, Harry was unaccustomed to menial labor and he lasted in the position for only a very short time. Then he went from one thing to another, barely making ends meet. As the larder grew bare, love and passion began to diminish, and both Molly and Harry found themselves greatly disappointed. Molly had only been a milliner and was surely not his equal intellectually, but she was more than equal when it came to the things she wanted out of life—and what she wanted was not to be poor. Harry, in his turn, had been captivated by Molly’s great beauty and thought she would give him the love and passion he’d never had in his previous marriage. Both were mistaken. Sara could still remember the violent argument that had ended with Molly shouting that she was through, that he’d ruined her life and her chances of meeting and marrying a rich man. She wanted a Jewish get; a divorce.

  Since they had been married by an Orthodox rabbi, they did not have to concern themselves with the civil courts; rabbinical laws considered and ruled on divorce. After careful examination of every possible course, Molly and Harry’s marriage was terminated and they went their separate ways, Molly taking her belongings and her child and moving to a small hotel.

  In the months that followed, Molly met a dapper, handsome man who wined and dined her, gave her extravagant gifts and was enormously fond of little Sara. Louie Carr was everything Molly wanted in a man, and especially in a husband. The only thing she found herself debating was Louie’s profession. He was a gambler. Very high-class, to be sure, but still it could be the Savoy today and the next day…Well, why worry about that? Louie was a master, a genius at his craft.

  Soon they were married and lived luxuriously in the finest hotels, dined at the finest restaurants, bought the most expensive clothes and enjoyed the finest in theater. Louie indulged Molly and Sara shamefully and adored doing so. To Louie, money was good only for one thing—to spend…

  After three months of wedded bliss, quite early one morning Louie entered their suite, put his pearl-gray felt fedora in the hall closet, walked into the small salon and poured a large brandy into the snifter. As he settled himself into the satin brocade chair, the mantel clock chimed. It was three in the morning.

  A yawning Molly slipped out of bed and walked into the sittingroom. Louie looked up and smiled that roguish smile she found so irresistible. He got up and put his arms around her slim waist as she reached up to kiss him. He nibbled on her ear and whispered, “Did you miss me?”

  “Of course. How did it go tonight, Louie?”

  “Well, to be honest…I took a heavy loss at chemin de fer. But there are winning streaks and losing streaks.”

  “I know tomorrow will be better.”

  Taking her hand he led her to the settee. “Would you like a brandy?”

  She tilted her head to one side and asked, “Why…do you think I need it?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, but he filled a glass for her, refilled his own and sat down next to her. Lifting his glass he said, “L’chayim.”

  “What are we drinking to?”

  “To taking a trip.”

  “Where and why?”

  “The where is South Africa—Johannesburg to be exact—and the why is there’s a casino I can buy into. It also has an added bit of revenue…girls.”

  “You mean a whorehouse?”

  “Oh, Molly, that’s shameful,” Louie answered, shaking his head.

  “So what would you call it?”

  “A whorehouse with a gambling casino,” he answered with a laugh. “But very elegant, very exclusive.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You surprise me, Molly. I thought you were more worldly than that.”

  “Worldly I am, but I’m not taking my child to a whorehouse.”

  “I’ve thought about that too.”

  “Really? You seem to have thought about a great many things.”

  “Believe me, Molly, I have. Gambling isn’t a very secure way of living and there’s no real future in it. You see, it’s our future I’m concerned about. Here we have the opportunity to get into something—”

  “What about Sara?”

  “As I said before, I thought about it—a great deal, I might add.”

  “And?”

  “I think she should have the best. You know how much I love her…as though she were my own child.”

  “Come to the point.”

  “The point is, I think she should be put into the best boarding school money can buy.”

  “I’m not putting my child into a boarding school. The answer is no.”

  Her anger didn’t bother him a bit. Taking the glass from her hand, he took her in his arms, kissed her and held her close, as he explained his reasoning to her.

  Molly thought seriously about it and somehow what he said did make sense. It wasn’t forever, Louie said. Girls from the best homes—rich homes—went to fine boarding schools, and she’d become a lady. If you loved your child, you made sacrifices. Besides, there was one other rather disturbing thing to consider; Louie told her he’d go without her, and then where would she and Sara be? He was trying the only way he knew to secure their future. With great reluctance she finally answered, “All right, Louie.” …

  Sara was enrolled in one of the best schools, but for all the “advantages” she was terribly lonely and missed
her mother and Louie. She often cried herself to sleep at night and her frequent letters to Molly always asked when they were coming to visit. It had already been two years since they’d promised, but unfortunately Louie’s plans had not matched his prophecies.

  When Louie and Molly arrived in Johannesburg they had found that the casino was shabby and rundown, and it had taken a large chunk of Louie’s limited capital to refurbish the casino. By the time Louie was making a profit, the local constabulary had put a padlock on the door; gambling was one thing, but prostitution was another. Now without the added revenue of his voluptuous hostesses, Louie could barely survive—which left Molly sitting on the edge of the bed asking, “What are we going to do now?”

  He sat in the chair opposite her with his hand cupped under his chin. When the answer was not forthcoming, Molly continued, “There’s nothing here for us, Louie. And besides, I haven’t seen Sara for two years. I can’t stand the pathetic letters, they tear me apart. Soon we won’t be able to keep sending money for the school anyway, so while we can still salvage something—sell. I want to go back.”

  “I’ll raise the money to pay off the police…everyone can be bought off.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Louie. Even if you could, they’d milk you for all you’ve got. Listen to me, sell the casino for whatever you can get.”

  What the hell, Louie thought, she was right. Besides, owning a casino was not all it was cracked up to be. He still had his skill; that was something no one would take away from him. They could always go to Monte Carlo and he’d have no problem getting a job as a croupier. Dealers made money if they knew how—and Louie knew how. “All right, Molly, start packing.”

  A smile broke across her face. It was the first time she had smiled with honesty in a long time. “When will we leave? I want to write Sara.”

  “As soon as the casino is sold. As a matter of fact, I have someone who wants to buy. We won’t get what we put into it, but what the hell. I’ll make it up in no time at all.”