Against My Will

by Benjamin Berkley

  The air was thick as I joined the growing crowd of fans moving toward the stadium entrance. As I walked, I noticed that my watch, which usually flopped around my wrist, felt tight. I felt swollen from wrist to toe.

  It was still a few minutes before six as I walked up to the box office where we had agreed to meet, hoping that Jacob would be a no show. But, to my chagrin, deep in a sea of Yankee fans adorned in blue and white, he spotted me. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and tie and his fingers appeared mustard free.

  “Were you waiting long?”

  “No, I just got here,” I said with a wry smile, feeling a trickle of perspiration running down my back.

  “Good. Your dad arranged for the tickets to be at Will Call. I’ll get in line.”

  “Ok.”

  I used the time while Jacob waited to check my face and reapply my lipstick.

  A few minutes later, I was following Jacob through the stadium gate and into the ball park. But, with the crowd pouring in, I had difficulty keeping pace with him as he walked several steps ahead of me and increased his pace before I finally lost him in the crowd. And now, with no ticket in hand, beads of sweat pouring from my forehead and upset with myself that I had agreed to go, I stopped to catch my breath before reversing my direction to leave.

  “Danielle,” a voice called from behind me.

  “Danielle.” The voice sounded closer.

  “Danielle.” The voice was now in my face.

  “Yes,” I answered upset and out of breath.

  “I thought you were behind me?”

  “Well, if you even bothered to look, you would know that I was not. Anyway, this was a mistake. So I am going to go. Enjoy the game.” I started to walk away.

  “Wait. Are you hungry?”

  I did not answer.

  “Let’s get something to eat.”

  Having sprinted for what seemed like a mile and dripping from perspiration, what I really wanted was a shower.

  “Please, let’s get something to eat.”

  I am always hungry and I thought I should at least get something to eat for all of my effort so I accepted his offer.

  “Ok,” I answered reluctantly.

  “Great. Let’s get some hot dogs.” Hot dogs was not my first choice but I followed him to the concession stand a few steps, feeling confident that I would not lose him again.

  “Three Hebrew Nationals,” he shouted to the lady behind the counter. “A bag of peanuts and two Cokes.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, poking my head so that the food server could hear me. “Could you make mine a Diet Coke? Thank you.”

  “Diet?” he questioned.

  “Yeah, something wrong with that?”

  “No, I just did not figure you to be a diet type of girl.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, you know. You don’t look like you diet.”

  “Excuse me. That is the rudest.”

  “I did not mean it like that. I take it back.”

  “You can’t. You already said it.”

  “Well, what I meant to say is that you’re just going to gain more weight once you have babies.”

  “Are you for real? I am out of here.”

  I had always been very sensitive about my weight as it had been a struggle.

  “I am sorry. Truly sorry. That was tactless. Again, poor choice of words.”

  “You make it sound like I am going to have a litter. Anyway, I am not having babies that quickly,” I said as I took my hot dog and Diet Coke and walked over to the table of condiments.

  “Whatever,” I answered as I pumped out a fine line of ketchup onto my dog while Jacob drowned his hot dog in mustard.

  “You sure like mustard,” I said.

  “One of God’s greatest creations,” Jacob proudly responded.

  Jacob was right about one thing. My dad must have paid a lot of money to get these seats as they were four rows behind the Yankee dugout.

  “I don’t think I have ever had seats these good,” I commented.

  “Well, it’s a special occasion,” he smiled.

  “And what is that?”

  “Let’s watch the game and I will tell you later.”

  With that cryptic message dancing in my mind, I ate my hot dog, shared the peanuts and sipped on my Diet Coke as the Yankees were cruising to a crushing defeat of their arch rivals.

  By the seventh inning stretch, as we stood to our feet and sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” all I could think about was taking me out of the ball park and heading home for a shower. But as I was about to say my good night, Jacob startled me with his announcement.

  “Well, you seem to check out. So I think we should make a commitment.”

  Commitment! At first, I thought he had used the wrong word.

  “Could you repeat what you said?”

  “You know. Commitment.”

  I did hear right. “Commitment for what?” I asked, settling back into my seat.

  “Well, I am not going to see anyone else and I don’t want you to. And we’ll continue seeing each other for a few months and see where it goes.”

  “Are you fucking out of your mind?”

  Jacob looked startled that I used the F word, as did the guy sitting next to him.

  “I came here tonight because of my dad. I respect him and I know he spent a lot of money. But I am not into arranged marriages or anything that you are suggesting! You are really messed up. You need help.”

  I got up from my seat and walked toward the exit as Jacob followed me and yelled my name to stop me. But I ignored his pleas and walked faster and faster, finally arriving at the sign that pointed to the subway when I felt a sweaty hand on my shoulder.

  “Danielle.”

  I pulled his hand away.

  “Please, this was a mistake. I am tired, I am hot and I want to go home.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “You had seven innings. And all you did was inhale your food, burp, and check your Blackberry. I don’t even think you knew I was sitting next to you.”

  As I yelled, a very cute college age girl wearing a Yankee jacket and matching baseball cap heard what I said and flashed me a thumbs up in approval.

  “I am sorry,” he said, feebly looking at the pavement.

  “Ok, well if that is all you can come up with, it was nice meeting you but I am going to go now.”

  “Wait. I really want to get to know you.”

  “Hello, did you not hear me? I am going home.”

  “I heard you,” he said but this time looking squarely into my face. “But I would like, if possible, another chance. Can we start over?” Jacob asked followed by one of those uncomfortable pauses. “Hello, my name is Jacob.” Jacob offered his hand his hand which I loosely grabbed. “What is your name?”

  “I don’t like games.”

  “Please. And what is your name.”

  “It is Danielle,” I responded robotically as the stadium crowd inside roared. “Perhaps you should go back to watch the end of the game.”

  “No, I’d rather be here,” Jacob said as a passing fan shouted that A-Rod had just hit his second home run of the night.

  I stood quietly.

  “Well, Danielle, do you like gelato? Because I know the best place in all of New York. And if you would so honor me, I would like to take you there.”

  Against my better judgment, but not wanting to upset my father, I agreed, but thirty minutes and eight subway stops later, there I was having the most amazing butter pecan and chocolate mint gelato I had ever had. And the conversation tasted a lot better than an hour ago.

  “I did have a nice time. Thank you. But I should go.”

  I was drained from the heat and was still looking forward to that shower.

  “So, no go on that commitment?

  “I don’t think so but…”

  “Well, do I at least get a second chance?”

  Jacob got his second and many more chances, which pleased my father. And with
the Yankees in the playoffs, my father had a new best friend to watch the games with while I tried to figure out if there was a relationship worth pursuing. Regardless, Jacob was no longer a stranger in our home but a welcomed guest. And my father could not have been happier.

  Rose’s Fourth Diary Entry

  My eyes were bigger than my stomach and I ate too much over the last few days. Just as the doctors had warned, I had a horrible stomach ache accompanied by bouts of diarrhea that left me dehydrated. Now, five days later, I am finally feeling oriented as to night and day and have the strength to write my story.

  Reports had been circulating that Jews of Poland were being taken from their homes to internment camps or worse. With the little money that my Poppa had saved up, he arranged for my older sister to go with this couple he knew. The husband was an industrialist and had owned several milling factories near town. Poppa had done several favors for him and he promised my father that his daughter would be safe. But for two days after Hannah left, my mother cried and cried, worried for her safety. I remember how my father would hold her hand trying to reassure her that Hannah would be all right.

  The third night after Hannah left, it snowed and the temperature dropped to bitter cold. Sometime in the early morning, we were awakened by several loud knocks on the door. The pounding at first went unanswered but quickly grew louder and the sound echoed to the marrow of my bones. I heard my father open the door, and there was yelling. I ran into my mother’s arms. Three men in dark brown uniforms walked into our home and we were told to gather all of our things; we had to leave now. Within minutes, we were walking in the snow covered street under a somber, moonless sky. As we passed each home, our neighbors joined us. It started to snow again as I looked up the angry sky.

  We continued to walk but no one knew where we were going or what our destiny would be. It was freezing cold and we stood for hours in this terrible weather in an open field waiting for everyone to assemble while the Germans went from house to house to make sure no Jew remained. They also warned the non-Jews in the town that if they hid any Jews, they would be killed.

  After a few more hours, a long caravan of open bed trucks arrived and the Germans started to beat us on our backs with their rifle butts to hurry us into the vehicles. Everyone scrambled to stay with their family members and no one knew what would be done with us. After we all entered the trucks, they began to move but we had no idea in which direction.

  After what seemed like hours, the trucks stopped suddenly as other trucks joined. Traveling together, we proceeded again as more snow and darkness fell and the night grew blacker and blacker. It was freezing cold but we did not utter a word.

  Finally, in the middle of the night or perhaps it was morning, we arrived at a place no one recognized. The Germans began to shout and shoot their rifles in the air so we would get out of the trucks. There was an empty school with big rooms and we were herded in there with shouts and beatings. Later they threw some stale bread at us which was to be our nutrition.

  We slept on the floor and those that had brought blankets from home could cover up with them; the others just froze. The next day, under guard of German soldiers whose rifles were always pointed at us, we were allowed to wash our faces in the nearby lake. But the water was freezing and my mother was upset that we even made the trek. Walking back, we passed a large fire over which the Germans were cooking soup, drinking, and appeared to be telling jokes. But as our cold and hungry faces passed them, there was no offer to share their meal.

  That night, two male friends of mine from my village escaped through an open window. But we were told that they were caught after a few hours, and since we didn’t see them again, we were sure that the Germans had shot them. Before they escaped, they had offered for me to come with them. But despite my strong desire to join, I couldn’t leave my family.

  On the third day, we were lined up and ordered to remove any jewelry that we had and place it on a long table. The once empty table now grew full with rings, necklaces, bracelets, brooches and watches. An old woman fumbled with her wedding band. I also watched as a little girl, no more than five or six, was told to remove her tiny gold earrings. When she started to cry, the soldier yanked the rings through her ears, tearing and bloodying her tiny ear lobes. Her mother screamed and the solder hit her in the face and dragged her by her hair outside. A murmur of fear filled the room, quickly followed by the sound of a gunshot. Then there was silence.

  Afterwards, the soldiers made us go on another long walk at the end of which we saw trains. We were thrown into the railcars and everyone tried to hold onto their family. The Germans squeezed so many people into the cars as if we were animals, with no place to sit or stand.

  In one corner there was a tin can and above it was a tiny window. The can was the train’s toilet. The next day the train door opened briefly and the Germans haphazardly placed a bucket of tepid cabbage soup that was leaking from its sides inside, with no spoons. The doors then quickly closed and locked and the cattle cars continued on their journey.

  After a few more days the doors opened again to let in some air and the Germans watched like hawks so that no one would get away. A guard had also discovered that a woman had given birth on the train and he took her and the baby away. Moments later we heard gun shots.

  At each subsequent stop, as impossible as it was, more people were stuffed into the trains. By this point there were many dead bodies in the train as it was so difficult to sustain life in these squalid conditions.

  At one stop, I peered through the tiny window and I saw a family. The mother was pretty; her hair was pulled back and held by a fancy clip. There was also a young girl, probably my age. She was wearing a heavy coat and gloves and her shoes were shiny. We gazed at each other from the platform. As the train’s wheels started to clang and groan, I never stopped looking at the young girl until she completely disappeared. And I hoped, my God, there is still civilization; the world has not come to an end. But hope can be paralyzing.

  Chapter Six

  The Yankees did not make it past the first round of the post season. For my father, that also marked the end of his baseball season as he couldn’t care who went on to the World Series; his mind was already on spring training.

  But for Jacob and me, after a picnic and boat ride in Central Park, a birthday dinner and concert tickets at Madison Square Garden, and a stroll under the moon at Jones Beach, we had entered our own post season and I agreed to Jacob’s “commitment.” Of course, it was an easy choice for me to make as there was no “someone else” that I could call up to play. But if “someone else” came along, I would not turn down a late season trade from another team.

  Jacob and my father were also both pleased with my decision to stay with the current lineup. However, except for a kiss good night, Jacob did not make any overtures to becoming intimate, which I found a little strange. But I rationalized that perhaps he was very old fashioned that way and wanted to move slowly. I was fine with this as I did not have much sexual experience and felt a little shy about sharing that kind of intimacy. I equated sex with love and wanted to share it with someone special.

  Work also took on a new dimension as my boss in the DA’s office allowed me to interview witnesses and prep the cases that were going to trial. And though the bar results were still a few weeks away, except for actually going into court and trying cases, I was for the most part acting like a real attorney.

  By the beginning of November, and after flirting with the calendar for several weeks, fall had finally arrived with a vengeance, sending the daytime temperatures into the low 50s. With the sudden change in seasons, tank tops and tees were exchanged for sweaters and coats, which I preferred wearing anyway as they better covered up my body.

  November also meant that we would soon be celebrating my favorite holiday. Enjoying Thanksgiving dinner at my Nana’s house was just a given in my life. As a little girl, I fondly remember how much fun I had helping Nana stuff the turkey, make the cranberry mold, and
glaze the sweet potatoes. Of course, no traditional Thanksgiving dinner was complete without homemade pumpkin and pecan pie. And the validation for all of Nana’s hard work came when she presented her perfectly roasted golden brown turkey to our beautifully set table and my father would make a toast, choosing the loveliest and kindest of words to profess his appreciation.

  But this year would be very different. My brother invited Nana to spend the long weekend with his family. My dad and I were also invited to my brother’s for dinner but Jacob’s parents extended an invitation and he really wanted us to go. And though I had been to Jacob’s parents’ home for a Labor Day barbeque and his sister’s birthday party, Thanksgiving dinner would be the first time that both of our families would sit down at the table together.

  Earlier in the week I called Jacob’s mother to ask what I could bring. She insisted that we “just come and enjoy” though she finally accepted my offer to bake my favorite pumpkin and apple spice muffins. But with my euphoria on learning only a few days earlier that I had passed the bar examination, I wished I had not volunteered as I was having difficulty focusing on anything.

  I only wished that Jacob would have shared my excitement. Instead, he lectured me on his very strong opinions on how difficult it was for working mothers to balance raising a family and furthering their career. Not wanting to engage in a subject that I thought was too premature for our relationship, I elected not to respond. This only angered Jacob as he expressed how important it was for his wife to be “home with the kids,” just like his mother was. Realizing that I could not remain mute, I voiced my counter points to his position.

  After I rested my case, it was clearly evident that we had had our first major fight and I was sensing that Thanksgiving at Jacob’s parents might not happen. But the next day, Jacob again surprised me. He texted an apology which he sent seconds before he knocked on my apartment door holding an arrangement of flowers with a card that invited me to a “make up, I am sorry, may I take you out for dinner” dinner. With no other plans for the evening, and turning to see my father wearing a Yankees cap and a big smile, I said yes.