So Molly had moved out and taken a dingy room in a boarding house, but the job she found in the hat factory paid less than enough to maintain even that meager style of living. With all things considered, she began to have second thoughts about having left Louie. It had become a litany: Louie was kind, comfortable, her loneliness was unbearable, her misery intolerable…The tears flowed as she wrote to him, but this time Molly was too late. He had died of a coronary. Whatever was left from the sale of the hotel would be hers, but at this moment her only worldly possession was a pair of small diamond earrings.
The next morning she pawned them and sent an eiderdown quilt to her daughter Sara as a wedding gift.
It made her feel at least a little more like a mother.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE WEDDING WAS NONE too soon for Jacob. How much could he take with Sara sleeping in the next room, just the other side of the wall.
Esther made the wedding arrangements and the shul was scheduled for the next Saturday night, right after sundown.
It seemed an eternity, but Saturday finally came. They stood under the blue velvet canopy and pledged their everlasting love. He lifted her veil…what a face, such a face. She drank from his cup of wine. He took a sip, then stomped on the glass.
“Mazel tov…mazel tov…” Esther’s restaurant was packed with people from the neighborhood. Such a gorgeous wedding, such a beautiful bride, such a handsome groom, such lucky people…
They honeymooned at Coney Island on Sunday and Monday—Jacob was given the day off with his boss’s blessing and a wedding gift of ten dollars—and after their honeymoon Sara and Jacob stayed with Esther until they could find a flat.
The newlyweds took Esther’s double bed while she shared a room with Shlomo. The arrangement, although temporary, didn’t please her. It didn’t seem quite right for a mother to be sleeping in the same room with a growing son. As she blushed in the dark at the sound of heavy breathing and squeaky bed springs on the other side of the thin wall, she thought how happy she would be when they found a place of their own. That’s where lovers should be. Alone…
Esther said a silent prayer of thanks, when Sara told her, “Mama, we found a place uptown, in Washington Heights. Only two flights up and right near the bathroom. It will be so lovely when we fix it up, and Jacob loves it. Don’t you, Jacob?”
He returned the smile. “It’s real pretty.”
“Where’s Washington Heights?” Esther asked.
“A very nice neighborhood,” Shlomo told her.
“Wait till you see it, Shlomo,” Jacob said. “Sara’s got so many good ideas. I never saw anything so beautiful.”
At first Jacob had been uneasy about the rent. But after all, he wasn’t exactly a poor man, not with six hundred dollars in the bank, in cash…in the vault. He had a good job, his salary was seventeen dollars a week and just recently his boss had said he would get a raise. With all that, why shouldn’t he move up in the world, why not? He had Sara to thank for all this. She had shown him a different world and he could well afford it. If not for her, chances were he eventually would have married some girl whose world was limited to Rivington, Ludlow and Delancey Streets. The right wife showed a man how to live. No question about it.
When young Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Sandsonitsky spent the first night in their home, the smell of fresh paint still remained. Sara was truly amazing, Jacob thought as he surveyed the apartment. The kitchen was lime green with white woodwork and crisscross organdy curtains hung above the sink. On the window ledge were four pots of pink geraniums, and on top of the shiny yellow linoleum stood a round golden-oak pedestal table with heavy claw-and-ball feet. Surrounding the table were five tall chairs with spindle dowels held together by a wide carved panel. Jacob was fascinated with the carving. For a fleeting moment he was taken back to Frankfurt, to the umbrella handles, the ivory and wood chips on the worktable, Lotte…
Quickly, he walked into the bedroom, and the sight erased his memories as his gaze wandered from the imitation lace curtains to the flowered wallpaper they had had so much fun in choosing and hanging, from the dresser to the oval mirror attached by two crescent-shaped arms, to the comb, brush and mirror that lay on the white dresser scarf. Jacob’s heart skipped a beat when he looked at the tall brass bed. He touched the pink satin comforter—so inviting and soft, like Sara’s body, like Sara.
Tonight he would lay his head against the down pillows inside the white eyelet pillow slips. It had been expensive, but what was two hundred dollars compared to what he had received. In Jacob’s wildest dreams, he’d never imagined living in such style. Sara had not only lifted him to unbelievable heights of passion, but had provided a world he had never before known existed.
Jacob’s delight was only exceeded by Sara’s. Her chief thought when he had asked her to marry him was that she needed to have a home and to be loved. But she had thought Jacob was a poor young man, and now that she had acquired what she had so longed for all these years, her devotion to him was even greater. If only mama could see the way she was living…
The first Friday night they were settled in their new home the family came to dinner.
Sara brought the boiled carp to the table on a large blue willow-patterned platter. It looked delicious, with sliced carrots layered on top and parsley surrounding the edge. But when Sara started to serve them their portions no one could look at her. She had forgotten to gut the fish. Mortified, she quickly removed the platter and brought out the chicken soup. But it was watery and the matzo balls were hard as rocks. Then the chicken, but it was underdone. The kugel was like glue, and the tsimmes…Oh God, the whole thing was a complete disaster. She had worked from early in the morning, thinking how proud Jacob would be. The only salvation was the sponge cake and that must have been an accident.
Frustrated and embarrassed, she barely heard the conversation around her as the family sat drinking tea.
“I knew you were beautiful, Sara, but I didn’t know you had such talent. The flat is so pretty, like you,” Gittel said.
Sara smiled thinly.
“Well, Jacob, how does it feel to live in such a mansion?” Shlomo asked.
He beamed. “How does it feel? Wonderful.”
“Sara, you’re such a good housekeeper, everything is neat as a pin. That I should live to see my son so well off and happy, makes my heart really overflow,” Esther said. Somehow, the past was very close tonight. She well remembered Jacob’s troubles and she was deeply, sincerely happy for him.
Hershel said nothing. He wished them what they wished him. Jacob was a smug upstart and he, Hershel, was green with envy. Imagine how Gittel must feel, he thought, living in two rooms with two babies…
Sara cried as she lay in Jacob’s arms that night. “I’m so embarrassed. The dinner was terrible and I wanted it to be so wonderful.”
He wiped away her tears. “It wasn’t that bad…”
“It was terrible.”
“And if it was? So, it’s only a meal. You did the best you could and—”
“I’ll bet your mother thinks I starve you.”
“My mother doesn’t think anything like, that…you know her better.”
“All the same, our first dinner—”
“From where should you know how to cook?”
“Well, I’m going to learn. And I’ll be as good as your mother, you wait and see.”
“And if you don’t, I’ll still feel the same about you.”
“Just the same, I will learn. You’re never ever going to say your mother’s cooking is better than mine.”
“Would I ever compare—”
“Yes, husbands have a habit of—”
“That’s enough already, Sara…”
Soon the tears were gone…All was forgotten as the satin comforter slid to the floor unheeded…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SARA NOT ONLY LEARNED to cook, but to grasp the edge of the bed when she tried to turn over. In her sixth month her belly was larger than Gittel�
��s had been at her ninth. Her legs were swollen and she had gained thirty pounds. She was so ill from the pregnancy and the oppressive September heat that she had to stay in bed most of the time.
All in all, impending motherhood left Sara so disenchanted that she wrote and asked her mother to come. Jacob was alarmed by her condition and helped all he could, and yes, she loved Jacob’s family. But no matter what, a mother was still a mother.
The answer Sara received did nothing to lift her depression.
My darling Sara,
Nothing would keep me away if I could come, believe me. But I opened a secondhand store with the money I finally received from the sale of the hotel and have no one to take over. Darling, if I don’t work, I don’t eat. Please God, if things begin to get better and I make a little money, the first thing I’ll do is come to see you and my new grandchild.
I pray you are feeling better by the time you get this letter. Give my love to your wonderful husband. I keep looking at the wedding pictures. They are my greatest happiness. May God continue to be good to you. I always miss you and love you. You are all I have now.
Your mother
You are all I have now…When did she, Sara, ever have Molly? Sara cried now for the same reasons she had cried in her childhood. Mama was never there…never. Still, poor mama—living alone must be hard, especially since Louie had really been her whole life. Sara had confused feelings of wanting and guilt. Mama’s life, she reminded herself, was sadder than hers. She at least had a home. She had Jacob.
November came and with it a bitter cold that even penetrated their warm little apartment. Sara was bundled in Jacob’s heavy flannel robe when she heard the door open. Awkwardly, she managed to get out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to greet him. He took off his coat and hung it in the tiny closet. She reached up and kissed him, then saw the expression on his face.
“Jacob?” Sara asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Jacob, you’re tired. Come, sit down, I’ll get supper.”
He stood holding onto the edge of the sink.
“Did you have a hard day?”
“Hard? They let me go. I’m out of work—”
She sat down heavily before she asked, “Why?”
“Why? Because my boss has a nephew who came from some damn place and he was given my job.”
“But you’ve been working there so long.”
“So what does that mean? Blood is thicker than water. He didn’t even give me a day’s notice.”
“Couldn’t you have taken a job for a little less pay in the meanwhile?”
“Don’t you think I asked? My boss said very apologetically that, no, business wasn’t good enough to put on an extra man. You know what he had the chutzpah to do? Give me a written recommendation. I told him he could wipe his rear with it. In a sweatshop I don’t need a recommendation.”
Oh God, their beautiful home. “You’ll find another job…”
“For what kind of money?”
“So it will be a little less.”
“Much less…we can’t live here, Sara.”
She wasn’t listening. This apartment was their first home, her first home. Jacob felt much the same, but there was more bitterness as he recalled how he had lost his grandparents’ home, how he had struggled for so long when nobody gave a damn. His experience of injustice had not hardened him to it. On the contrary…
“Jacob, please don’t be hasty. Let’s stay here and see if—
The answer was a flat no…
He found a two-room flat on Rivington Street for nine dollars a month. Sure, the flat on the Heights was beautiful, and he could afford it when he was earning a large salary. But now it was a luxury and he could no longer indulge Sara. He only had three hundred dollars between his family and starvation. No one knew the misery he felt when he helped Sara up the three flights of stairs. His pride had been so shredded he could hardly meet her eyes.
The kitchen was gray, food stains and grease clung to the walls. The bedroom was small and faced an alley. Their furnishings looked ludicrous in these surroundings, especially the satin comforter and the lace-trimmed pillow slips. The toilet was at the far end of a narrow hall. A building like this should only burn to the ground, Jacob thought. The millionaires uptown were getting rich on the misery of people like him.
On November 30, 1910, Sara gave birth to a blonde blue-eyed baby girl after eighteen hours of excruciating pain that made her swear she’d never have another.
Jacob had never doubted that a man of his virility could have anything but a boy. Even Hershel could make sons. But when he held the little girl in his arms, any such feelings vanished—she was his, and his love was greater than anything he’d known. Much to Sara’s irritation, the baby was named Rachel after Jacob’s grandmother. She argued with Jacob that the child should be called Denise, but his objections had overruled hers. When she looked at the child at her breast, she felt almost envious of the affection that Jacob showed the child. Even at the height of his passion he never gave her the tenderness he gave to his child. Sara felt left out, rejected. She had endured the long pregnancy and the labor pains because of Jacob, but now he seemed lost to her in the pleasure of fatherhood…
In the weeks to come, Jacob spent every weekday looking for a job. One late afternoon he came home to find Sara, in the usual heavy sweater, standing at the sink as she prepared their dinner. She glanced up. “So how did it go…you found a job?”
“I found a job.”
“Mazel tov. Where?”
“At a factory, making umbrella handles.” Mr. Mendlebaum’s presence was vivid in Jacob’s memory.
“I guess you’re pleased…since it used to be your trade. How much does it pay?”
“Nine dollars a week.”
“You like the job?”
“Like it? It’s a job…what do we have for supper?”
“Meatballs. Where is the job…I mean is it—”
“Uptown.”
Where they once lived.
They went their separate ways, she to the stove, Jacob to see the baby…
The next two years passed slowly for Sara and Jacob, but if they hardly noticed the passage of time it was not because life had improved. Sara’s unhappiness resulted in arguments, then utter silence. Jacob became sullen and withdrawn. His hopes, dreams diminished, as did Sara’s. Both felt their situations would never improve, and somehow they blamed each other.
Sara even began to punish Jacob—she would not have recognized it as that—by depriving him of herself. At night, she turned her back to him and stared at the wall. And he reached out more, and more, to his child for solace.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HERSHEL AND GITTEL’S LIFE had, surprisingly, prospered. Hershel now had a fine job working for a pawnshop on Ludlow Street. Each day he set off with a small case filled with diamond-studded earrings, wedding rings and gold watches, and he proved to be quite effective at selling.
Gittel gave birth to another son and they moved to a three-room flat. Gittel was more than content. Hershel was making a steady living. In fact, they had even saved a little money. These were the best years Gittel had ever known.
Esther was both happy and unhappy. She was pleased for Gittel, but she wept for Jacob and Sara. She well knew her son’s fierce pride and Sara’s needs. If business were better she would have given them some money. Added to her concern, Shlomo quit school in his junior year and went to work at the Fulton Fish Market. Esther tried to convince him to finish school, but he said he felt obliged to help support the family.
Jacob was furious that Shlomo would insult him by offering his help. But when he bought things for Rachel, whom they both adored, Jacob looked the other way.
It was an unexpected opportunity that fell into Hershel’s lap. And once again coincident with someone else’s disaster.
One morning he walked into Abrams’ Pawnshop to replenish his case, and found his boss slumped over the counter. The man’s eyes were open,
but Hershel knew from the way his head lay that Mr. Abrams was dead. He felt the pulse to be sure…but no beat. As Hershel stood looking at the dead man his thoughts were all on the living…Mr. Abrams had no family, no one at all. So who would fall heir to the fruits of his labor? The government, but Uncle Sam could hardly be called a relative.
Hershel went to the front of the store, locked the door and pulled down the shade. Then he began stuffing his pockets and his case with rings, earrings, watches, brooches—whatever he could put his hands on. He opened the metal strongbox, took whatever cash was there and laid it on top of the jewelry in his case. Nervously, he locked the case and hurried home.
In spite of the cold day, he was drenched in perspiration when he reached his flat.
Gittel was so busy with the children that she didn’t hear him walk in. He hurried into the bedroom, where he could be alone. He had too many pressing questions to answer. What should he do with the loot? Where could he hide it? Would the police suspect him? Question him? Hershel admonished himself…why was he so upset about all this? Who knew how much merchandise Abrams had? He didn’t even know, and he’d worked for Abrams. Abrams didn’t keep any inventories and Hershel was positive that he had taken only jewelry that was years overdue. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty, but done was done. Now, where should he hide it? In the closet, under the pile of dirty clothes? It wasn’t safe, but for the time being it would have to do. Hershel went into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table. Benjamin climbed onto his father’s lap and put his head against Hershel’s chest.
“When are you going to wash the clothes in the closet, Gittel?” he asked.
“When I have the time. To tell the truth, I’ve been so busy I almost forgot but I’ll do it tomorrow. You have enough—”
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