Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  “No problem…Listen, Gittel, I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

  “What’s the matter, Hershel? Here, let me get you a cup of tea.”

  “No. Listen, Gittel, I have something very sad to tell you.”

  Her heart pounded. Was it mama? “Sad, Hershel? What…”

  “Mr. Abrams died. When I went to pick up the jewelry this morning, I found the poor man gone.”

  “Oh, my God, he was such a nice person. Poor man, there’s no one to even say Kaddish for him. Too bad when you have no sons. How lucky we are—”

  Her words reminded him of the night Avrum was born, when Jacob had loomed over him on the steps and said, “You have a son. When you die there’ll be someone to say Kaddish for you.” But he looked at Gittel and quickly continued, “It’s sad, but he lived a good life. If he didn’t make arrangements, I’ll take care of it. Now, of course, Gittel, I have to get a new job.”

  She hadn’t thought of that and suddenly she panicked. “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry, Gittel, I’ll make a living. Trust me, we won’t starve.”

  “Whatever happens, Hershel, it doesn’t matter so long as we’re all together.”

  He nodded. “I have to go and take care of Mr. Abrams. God should only rest his soul in peace, such a nice man.” …

  After Hershel let himself into the store, he ran out and frantically summoned a policeman.

  “My God,” he said, “I can hardly believe it. Yesterday he was fine…”

  “Well, that’s life,” said the policeman, “that’s what people die from…living.”

  “What’s going to happen now, what should I do?”

  “Don’t do nothing…don’t touch anything. You know his family?”

  “He has none. I was like a son, though, I loved him.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of tough, but we all got to go.”

  “What’s going to happen to the store?”

  “I suppose the sheriff will padlock it, but first I have to notify the chief to call the coroner.”

  “Mr. Abrams and I never talked about it, but I don’t even know if he took care of—”

  “Funeral arrangements, yeah. I been around you people enough to know you have to make certain arrangements. Now give me your address in case we have to get in touch with you.” …

  Hershel saw Mr. Abrams buried, then waited out the next few days in fear and anxiety.

  The amount of jewelry Mr. Abrams had stashed away boggled the minds of the police who inventoried it. The gold pieces alone were worth a fortune, they told Hershel. He could have killed himself for being so honest, but his reprieve had finally come. He was not interrogated nor under any suspicion. Why should he be? There was certainly no foul play. It was a heart attack.

  When Mr. Abrams’ case was closed, Hershel felt it was safe to take his merchandise to a fence and convert it into cash. He was shocked at the amount—fifty-seven hundred dollars, not including the cash he’d taken. He felt like a millionaire.

  That evening at dinner he said, “Gittel, I’ve saved a little money. I was always worried about losing my job and the only time you don’t have to worry is when you’re your own boss.”

  She sighed. “How true that is.”

  “Well, I’m going to be my own boss.”

  “You are? Oh, Hershel, I’m so happy, tell me—”

  “Calm down, I’ll tell you. I’m going to start a small business and we’re going to move.”

  “You mean to a cheaper place until—”

  “No, I mean away from New York.”

  “Away from New York? Why, Hershel?”

  “What kind of business could I start here, another delicatessen? I haven’t got a trade and I can’t—”

  “But my family…your family, Hershel. How can we pick up and leave them?”

  “I thought about it, of course I did. But our future’s not here.”

  Silence. She was afraid to ask, afraid to hear the answer…“Where, then?”

  “To Cleveland.”

  While she recovered from the shock, Hershel thought about the decision he had made. If he went into business here, people would wonder how he had acquired so much money, and that he couldn’t risk. He still woke up in the night, drenched with perspiration, thinking the police would discover the missing loot…“Listen, Gittel, I’m thinking of the children. This is no place to raise them. They’ll grow up without ever seeing a tree. What chance do we have here? None. I thought of Cleveland because it isn’t too far for your mother to take a train. At least we can live like human beings there.”

  Biting her lip, she asked, “What made you think of Cleveland?”

  “I know a man who moved there. I happened to meet him the other day when he came to visit his parents, and he said Cleveland was the best decision of his life. It’s a wonderful city and his wife loves it there too.”

  Oh God, Gittel thought. She would be having to leave mama, her brothers, Sara and little Rachel…Why was life so complicated? “When will we be going?”

  “I’m going first. I can’t have you come till I find a place and a business.”

  “When are you going?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Gittel sat with Esther in the restaurant as the children played at a nearby table. “I’m not complaining, mama, but I can’t get over Hershel moving us to Cleveland. Don’t you think there’s something he could have done to get into a little business here, mama?”

  “He could have, yes, but in my heart I know Hershel is right. I don’t think there’s a worse place than this. When I came from the old country I hated it. For the bums, the East Side is good…but I hated having to bring up Shlomo here. That he turned out so good is only by the grace of God—”

  “There are good children and families here, too, mama.”

  “True, but they’d be better off somewhere else. Listen to me, Gittel, this one time I give Hershel a lot of credit. His concern about his wife and family is wonderful. He’s turned out to be a good husband, Gittel—a very good man. Go with an easy heart, Hershel is right.”

  “I know, but I still love you, my family, and to think you won’t see the children breaks my heart.”

  Esther had thought about this too and had come to a decision. “You know what? When you get settled, I’m going to sell the restaurant. The great riches I have here I can have in Cleveland. I saved a few dollars through the years. And when we get settled then Jacob can move—why not? The whole family will be together. You know something, Gittel?”

  “What, mama?”

  “I suddenly got a lot of hope.” And to think Hershel should be the one to make such a great change in all our lives, she thought…

  Three weeks later, Hershel sent for Gittel and the children.

  When they arrived they stood on the sidewalk in front of the new store as Hershel pointed up to the sign above the door—HAROLD’S DRY GOODS.

  Gittel wept happily and asked, “Why Harold’s?”

  “Why not? A new life, a new name…this is America.”

  Harold Jablon had emerged and Hershel Jablonsky had vanished.

  Gittel hugged her husband as he put the key in the latch and marched ahead of his family toward the back of the store to the five-room apartment.

  Two years later Esther sold the restaurant. From the moment the sale was finalized until the time of her departure she continued to tell Shlomo that his opportunities were in Cleveland. Look what a good living Hershel was making. The children were living in fresh air and they and the new baby girl, Bertha, were going to grow up among civilized people. Wasn’t Shlomo eager to see Gittel’s children?

  Yes, but if Jacob couldn’t go then neither would he.

  “Jacob’s going to come eventually. Why are you being so stubborn, Shlomo?”

  “Because Jacob needs some family too. With everyone leaving he’ll feel very alone.”

  Esther nodded her head slowly. As usual, Shlomo was right. Poor Jacob would be alone. At this mo
ment it seemed to her that the children were smarter than she’d ever been…

  Before getting on the train at Pennsylvania Station, Esther looked from one face to the other. She felt torn apart and suddenly remembered the first time she’d left her children. Had Jacob really forgiven her? Sometimes she wondered. But she couldn’t be in two places at the same time. Once again life had taken her by the hand…

  In spite of himself, Jacob too remembered that first parting. Gittel always came first.

  Sara’s thoughts were with Hershel, the one they’d always criticized. Hershel was making a home and a good living for his family, but Jacob, strong as an ox, was still carving umbrella handles and earning nine dollars a week. There was no justice in the world. For all her cultured background Sara lived in poverty, and Gittel, who had never gone to school, had it very good indeed. Sara and her mother had something in common—they seemed to know how to pick the wrong men.

  Three weeks later they received a letter from Esther in which she enclosed a snapshot of a storefront and the sign above the door. ESTHER SANDERS DRY GOODS.

  Where else but in America?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE DAY SARA DISCOVERED she was pregnant was the same day Jacob told her Germany was at war with France and England. When she cried it was not because of the war but because she didn’t want this child. She’d been so careful not to conceive and had in fact discouraged Jacob’s advances. But something was wrong. Well, the whole thing had been wrong from the day she was born, so why should anything be so different now…When she wrote to her mother about her situation and Molly wrote back that children brought luck, Sara wanted to scream out. If they brought so much luck why had Molly resisted being so blessed? Then she admonished herself. Molly had sent her some money although she was barely making a living out of the junk store she ran, and it hurt Sara to think of her mama living in the back of a store.

  Sara gave birth to a second girl on January 10, 1915. No matter how she tried, she simply could not accept the fact that she was only twenty-two years old and burdened with two children and a husband with no future. She had become so fat after bearing the children that she swore she’d never have another. She had nothing in common with the mothers who sat on the stoops and discussed everybody’s business but their own. She had to get away. So from time to time, out of desperation, she took the subway with Rachel and the baby and went uptown although she had barely enough for the fare.

  As she walked along Fifth Avenue she wondered how God could single out certain people to have the riches and good things in this life and others to be deprived and unloved. Her excursions only increased her longings, making it almost impossible for her to return home. The contrast between her dingy flat and her memories of Central Park, the governesses tending children who wore organdy dresses with wide pink satin sashes, the smartly dressed women who lived in mansions—it all brought back the promises Louie and Molly had made and the hopes she had felt in the early days of her marriage. But her marriage was just another broken promise.

  Jacob couldn’t help but be aware of her resentment, but it made him feel betrayed. She should have been his comfort and helped him to shut out the mean world. Instead she made him feel less than a man, made him feel impotent. Was it his fault things had turned against them? Had he denied her anything he was able to give her? No, but all she had done was make life harder for him.

  One night their resentment exploded into an argument. Sara had brought up Hershel’s success just once too often.

  “I’m sick and tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.” He shoved his plate away and got up from the table. Standing over her, he said, “You should have married a millionaire. A lot you have to complain about. When I married you, what was the dowry you brought me? I even bought you the dress. What did your mother ever do for you—”

  “Don’t talk about my mother.”

  “Why, does the truth hurt?”

  “You know as well as I do that she doesn’t have anything.”

  “She had enough to support a pimp—”

  Sara slapped Jacob in the face.

  He took hold of her wrist as he tried to calm himself. After a long tense moment he said, “You listen to me and listen carefully. Don’t ever do that again. I warn you, Sara, and don’t push me too hard…As for your mother, it’s funny how you tell me how bad your life was, that you didn’t have a mother when you were a little girl, and then you defend her to me—”

  “She’s my mother no matter what she did. You don’t have a right to talk against her…”

  “But I’m your husband. What about your loyalties to me?”

  “I’m as loyal as any wife. I live with you and make a home and—”

  “And also make my life hell.”

  “Then why don’t you leave me.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.”

  “What’s keeping you?”

  “My children…” He ran from the room, down the stairs and into the street. When he got to the river he sat on a bench and thought about his so-called marriage…

  Meanwhile Sara started to pack. Enough was enough, and if this was what she could look forward to the rest of her life…she’d go to California to her mother.

  Suddenly she sat heavily on the bed and began to cry. She must have gone mad. Where would she get the money to go to California and how would she support herself and two children? And then a further sobering thought came…She’d been selfish. Jacob was, after all, suffering as much as she was; his life had been nothing but hardship from the day he was born, and he was doing the best he could. If she could think a little less about herself and a little bit more about him maybe life would be a little more endurable. But she’d spent so much of her life vacillating between love and resentment. She prayed that if God could help her with anything, it would be to change her nature…

  When Jacob came back she was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him. He walked toward the bedroom without a word.

  She called after him but he slammed the door.

  She went to him and watched as he let his shoe drop to the floor. “Jacob, I’m sorry…really I am.”

  No reply. The trousers were tossed onto the chair.

  “I’ve been wrong, taking my feelings out on you.”

  He laid his shirt on top of the trousers. In his union suit he got into bed.

  Sara went to the bed. “I know I’ve been wrong.” It wasn’t easy for her to say that, but Jacob didn’t make up easily. “I apologize, Jacob…”

  No answer.

  “Jacob, for God’s sake, what can I say except that I’m very sorry I—”

  “You can leave me alone,” he answered, turning toward the wall.

  She hadn’t felt so abandoned or alone since she had been a little girl, begging her mother to let her come with her, and she cried now, softly, through the night as she lay alongside Jacob.

  The greatest joy in Rachel’s life was meeting papa at the subway every summer evening. How proud she was now that she was six and could go alone. Everyone said she looked like papa, same blonde hair and blue eyes…and papa was so wonderful. He took her to a place in a basement that sold charlotte russe. Papa always smiled and watched as she ate hers, but he never had one. Hand in hand, they walked home through the crowded streets. Rachel was very happy that Doris was still a baby and that she didn’t have to share these precious times with papa, and sometimes it was even good to get away from mama. She didn’t know why mama often made her feel so bad, like she’d done something wrong. “The reason you don’t eat your supper,” mama would say, “is because you always eat sweets before.” But Rachel didn’t care, she liked charlotte russe more than supper. More important was meeting papa; that was the nicest thing in her life and she wouldn’t stop even if mama got mad. And mama could get mad. The things she said to papa…although things had been better since Doris came into the family. She really didn’t like Doris at all. The only people she really loved were papa
and her Uncle Shlomo…

  Fortunately, Rachel couldn’t see what was happening between Jacob and Shlomo. For the first time in their lives there was a breach between them, and Jacob suffered badly for it.

  The day America declared war on Germany, Shlomo went to Jacob to tell him he was joining the marines.

  After the first shock Jacob said, “Oh, no, you’re not going to join anything. You’re only nineteen.”

  “Jacob, I didn’t come to ask you but to tell you.”

  “And I’m telling you no.”

  “Jacob, there’s a war going on—”

  “Don’t tell me about the war. I read the papers.”

  “Then if you read the papers you know I’ll be drafted anyway. I don’t want to go into the army.”

  “Damn it, I say no. You hear?”

  “How could I help, you’re yelling so loud. But it doesn’t change a thing.”

  Jacob went wild. Grabbing Shlomo, he punched him in the stomach, then slapped him in the face. Shlomo staggered and fell to the floor.

  When Jacob saw the blood dripping from Shlomo’s split lip he was on his knees in a second, holding Shlomo to him like a child and wiping away the blood. “My God, Shlomo, I don’t want anything to happen to you. It would kill mama…me too if anything—don’t do it.”

  Shlomo rallied himself and stood up unsteadily. He looked at Jacob, then put his arms around his brother. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” …

  The day Shlomo left, Jacob was as bereft as the day his father had died. When Jacob cried for Shlomo, and prayed he would come back safely, he was also, of course, crying for his father…for his father who had never come back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in Molly’s life she happened to be in the right place at the right time. With the outbreak of the war, defense plants in Oakland were booming and the influx of people needed what Molly sold—secondhand furniture.

  Six months after the declaration of war she had enough money to buy two flats in East Oakland. She no sooner had the deeds in hand than she sent off a letter to Sara and enclosed tickets and money…