The Compass

by Deborah Radwan

  “You did a fine job on that planter. Just a little water and those new flowers will take off in no time. What is that yellow one, yarrow?” Frederick asked.

  Jacob just nodded, still inspecting his work.

  Frederick continued. “Oh, I’ve got a teenage boy coming to help take down this fence. His mother is anxious to fill his summer with something other than the crowd he’s started to hang with, so I offered him a little cash for some honest hard work. His mother is grateful.”

  “You may be asking for trouble, my friend. Teenager? Bad crowd? I don’t like the sound of it.”

  Jacob found himself thinking back to the boys on the bikes; how the taunting and the hostile eyes of those neighborhood boys that gawked at him had reminded him of the young men in Germany so long ago, after it was no longer safe to be Jewish. It didn’t matter that he was ten thousand miles and fifty-five years removed from it. Jew, “Jude,” the way they spit out the word, was the same. Jacob wondered how such young boys then and now could have so much anger and hatred inside them. Too young, too young, Jacob thought shaking his head.

  Jacob knew that this was not Germany in the 1930s and 1940s. It was not that he was old, or a Jew. He could have been anything—Mexican, Puerto Rican, Asian, Black, white, short, tall, fat, skinny, blond, what did they call it… gay?—it didn’t matter. It was that he was not whatever they thought they were. But this wasn’t much consolation. He’d seen too much, knew what could happen, to shrug it off easily. But what could he do? Jacob wondered, feeling as helpless now as he had then. Now he was going to have some troubled teenager working in his Eden? He didn’t like the idea.

  “It’ll be fine, Jacob. His mother is a good woman. The boy’s father left them when he was just three. He just hasn’t had much direction, that’s all. Needs to see what some hard work can get you—a little spending money, the feeling of accomplishment, being part of something. You know.”

  Jacob waved him off. “I think we’ll never get this fence down. But what do I know? Let us try Mr. Teenage Big Shot. When does he start?”

  “This Saturday, bright and early. I’ll be here to help; Yoshito, too, if we need him.”

  “All right, Frederick. I don’t like the idea, but we’ll see if we can give Mr. Know-It-All Teenager something to do, see if he sticks with it.” Jacob handed back his now empty glass to his friend and headed for the hose to wash away the dirt that clung to his hands and spewed out onto the drive from the planter.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday morning came early and Rudy arrived late and begrudgingly. He didn’t want to be there and had told his mother so, but when they’d fought, she’d cried. That was still one thing he couldn’t do, was make his mama cry. He was already thirteen, and the time was coming when he would become a man; and he couldn’t be taking no orders from his mama. What would his friends say if they knew he was doing work for the old Jew man? He’d had to make up a story of how he was spending his time; otherwise he’d have a hard time hanging with the group, being one of them. More than anything else, he wanted to belong to something. He was tired of being a nothing; tired of living in a small box that was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, of being in the world of the have-nots—tired of having bars on the windows at home, of feeling like he was a victim. The group he was with now taught him what it was like to have power over things and people. They told him to take what he wanted, because no one was going to hand it to him—he deserved it. That seemed a whole lot smarter than praying for things in church on Sunday. His mama seemed to think that the answers to her prayers would fall into her hands like manna from heaven. His mother let millions of rosary beads slide through her fingers, each with a prayer up to heaven, and for what? To have nothing, to be nothing? There’d been no answers to any prayers as far as he could tell. All those hours his mother had spent on her knees amounted to nothing. Even now, he was going to have to work like a dog in the heat of the day over how many weeks, and for what, a few measly bucks?

  Just the other day, he shoplifted a pocketknife. It wasn’t the one he wanted, but it was his first time and good practice. The guys told him that he seemed to have a talent—real slick—and that he was better than that stupid store owner who had trouble speaking English. Well, he had lost this battle with his mama, but he would win the war. So help me God, he thought.

  Rudy was just getting ready to knock at the Jew man’s door when a tall, slim, black man waved out to him, calling out his name from next door like they were old friends.

  “Hey, Rudy! Wait up.” The boy looked at the old black man approaching with dislike knowing he was the one who had gotten him this stupid job. It was all his fault that he was there instead of having fun with his friends. Well, he may have picked cotton in the fields, Rudy thought, but no one is going to push me down. No one. Rudy said nothing.

  Extending his hand, Frederick said, “Hi, Rudy. I’m Frederick. I know your mother. I want to thank you for helping Jacob with his fence. I’m afraid we’re just too old to tackle a big job like this. A big strong boy like you shouldn’t have much trouble though. You’ll have it out in no time.”

  Rudy reluctantly shook Frederick’s hand, but he didn’t like it, especially when Frederick slapped him lightly on the shoulder, like they were old friends who had just shared the punch line to a joke that amused them both. He didn’t say anything in return, just stared through narrow, black shark eyes. Frederick appeared to ignore, accept, or be oblivious to Rudy’s coldness. Rudy couldn’t figure out which.

  “Let’s see if we can get Jacob out here,” Frederick said as he banged on the front screen door.

  Slowly, the heavy wood door on the other side of the security screen opened. The house was dark inside, and Rudy couldn’t make out anything except the dark bulky figures of heavy furniture until the shape of a stocky man blocked his view. The Jew man, Rudy thought.

  “Ah, here is our helper. I am Jacob. And what is your name?” a voice inquired as the heavy metal screen door swung open and Jacob stepped out onto the porch.

  Frederick answered for him. “Jacob, this is Rudy. He’s here to give us a hand.” Rudy said nothing as Jacob looked him up and down, knowing he recognized him as the boy on the bike, the boy with the stare.

  “Well, let’s see if you are willing to work hard.” The three of them walked off the porch and turned around the corner of the house up the driveway to the back yard. For a moment, the expression on Rudy’s face softened; his eyes widened as he was unable to hide his surprise. He had no idea what beauty lay behind that small, rundown house. In fact, he had never seen anything so beautiful in his short life; he didn’t know that beauty like this could coexist with the shabbiness of this neighborhood that he had begun to hate. Not only was Jacob’s garden lush and green and full of colors, but he could see through the chain link fence that it was the same in Frederick’s yard next door, as well as the one owned by the old Jap. Rudy noticed there was no fence separating their properties and wondered why. He was suddenly aware of birds singing and that the temperature seemed nearly ten degrees cooler than the front yard where he had just been. Rudy was moved in a way he had never known but tried to hide his astonishment and approval.

  Frederick’s strong arm around his shoulder steered him toward the fence that needed to be pulled out. Now he understood that Jacob’s yard would no longer be separate from the other two yards, but he still didn’t understand why.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Jacob inquired. Rudy shook his head and looked down. Impatiently, Jacob continued. “Look me in the eye when we talk, young man, and we’ll get along much better. I know you can do that.” Rudy looked up and held his gaze, more in defiance than in a conciliatory gesture, understanding that Jacob was making a reference to the other day. Jacob went on. “You can never trust a man who won’t look you in the eye. Remember that.” Rudy nodded, making a point to look at Jacob.

  “
Jacob, give the boy a chance. Maybe he takes a bit of time to warm to strangers.” Excusing himself, Frederick smiled and said he would be back later to check up on the progress.

  Jacob led Rudy over to the fence. “This is where your work begins. I will help you as much as I can, but I am an old man. You will need to dig a trench on either side in order to pull out the fence. Frederick, Yoshito, and I will help you when you get to that point. And try not to step on any plants or flowers while you’re working. Any questions?”

  Rudy just shook his head.

  “Okay, Mr. Talkative. Let’s get started.”

  Rudy followed Jacob to a shed where Jacob kept some shovels, thinking with resignation that the sooner he started, the sooner this would be over and he could get the hell out of there. What a way to spend his summer, he thought.

  Rudy kept his eyes down through the morning, saying nothing, and with every dig into the dirt, he begrudged what his friends were doing. He also found out quickly that this was harder work than he had expected. Very soon, sweat was pouring off of him. It didn’t help that every time he wiped the sweat from his eyes, dirt got in them. Before long, his shirt tail was filthy and wet from wiping his face. Around eleven o’clock, Jacob told him that if he used a different shovel and wore gloves, the work might go faster. Rudy stopped, clearly frustrated and angry. Back off, old man, he thought, but he said, “I thought you hired me to do the job? Do you want me to do this or not? What makes you think your way is better than mine, huh?” Jacob appeared to cringe and said nothing. Rudy felt good about that. “Stupid, old man,” Rudy muttered under his breath, unsure if Jacob heard as he went back to work with more determination.

  The morning crawled by, as did the early afternoon. It was now moving toward the hottest part of the day. Jacob offered him a pastrami sandwich around one o’clock. Rudy didn’t want to take anything from Jacob; it might look like a sign of weakness. However, he was famished. Still, he could not bring himself to say yes, particularly after their confrontation that morning. Jacob sat down on some nearby rickety wooden chairs under the broad limbs of a nearby tree. Rudy couldn’t remember ever eating pastrami before, and as he watched Jacob take a bite, he wondered what it might taste like. It looked really good, or maybe he was just really hungry. Jacob watched him from cautious eyes.

  “Here, at least have some iced tea.” Smiling to himself, Jacob said, “Frederick calls this the nectar of the gods. I will admit that it does taste good and can kill a thirst, but you must not tell him I said so.”

  Rudy watched Jacob fill the glass, his mouth feeling gritty and dry from working in the dirt. He was already salivating as the amber liquid poured into the glass. Rudy did not meet Jacob’s eyes when he held out the already sweating glass, but instead, he fixated on a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. It was a number. Jacob saw him looking at it. Rudy wondered if Jacob could read the question in his eyes: What does that number mean? Jacob’s expression seemed to soften toward him, but he said nothing.

  Rudy finished out the day around four o’clock. He had made some progress digging the trench a few feet, but he had a long way to go. The yards were at least one hundred and fifty feet long. Who would have thought there was so much room behind these small houses? This was not going to be a short summer job—this would take all of his vacation time.

  “We will see you Monday,” said Jacob to Rudy’s back as he walked down the drive.

  A minute or two later, Frederick walked up the driveway saying, “I saw Rudy leave. How’d it go?”

  Jacob told him, “We won’t see him again,” then turned around to put the shovels away.

  Rudy did not come back on Monday or the three days after that. That Monday night, Frederick and Yoshito were sitting in their Eden with Jacob, watching the sky darken and the stars appear.

  “Just as well,” said Jacob. “Nothing but trouble anyway.” The others didn’t say anything in response.

  Jacob had felt very old these past few days. He was mad that he did not stand up to Rudy when he smarted off, but Rudy had reminded him of the unspoken madness of the past that had chased him for decades. It jumped out in front of him like a ghost scaring him with its clarity. He wanted to wipe it away like the soil from his brow but couldn’t—especially when Rudy rang his doorbell that Friday.

  Jacob controlled his surprise. “Well, Mr. Talkative; decided to come back, did you?” Rudy shrugged as Jacob walked out the front door to escort him to the back. “Okay, you know where the shovels are. But let’s get something clear. This is not a come-if-you-feel-like-it job. No doubt you don’t want to be here; I think that’s pretty clear. But you are either here or you aren’t. You choose. We can tell that you do not like spending your time with us old men. Well, that’s the job. But I do expect respect and no talking back or complaining. If you can’t do that, then you may as well go home. Understood?” Rudy nodded in defeat, relinquishing the last of the rope in this tug of war. Jacob and his mama had won. Jacob turned away, shaken but victorious at having taken a stand against this lone angry boy. He had done it; he had done it.

  Chapter 3

  Rudy didn’t like being at Jacob’s house, but he was determined not to be a quitter. Besides, he could use the money. God knows his mother didn’t have any to spare. He would just stick it out, do the work, and get out of there. At least, that is what he was telling himself.

  Truth is that something had happened in the last couple of days that had scared him. He had been with his friends hanging out in the park just as darkness was settling. Some kids from school were playing basketball nearby. They were the smart kids, the good kids. As darkness fell, the game broke up and they started heading for home. One of the kids who was always studying and getting good grades was walking alone. Rudy and his friends started to follow him, tease him, and give him a bad time. At first it was funny, but before long, Rudy’s friends were shoving the boy. Next thing Rudy knew, they were hitting him—hard. The boy was lying on the ground crying, defenseless, blood dripping from his nose. It was the oldest of Rudy’s friends doing most of the punching, and the rest of the guys were cheering him on, wishing they could get in a good punch. Rudy saw a crazed look in his friend’s eyes as he told the boy on the ground that if he told anyone, next time he wouldn’t survive what they had in store for him. Rudy was stunned. All he could do was watch in the background and then run away with the rest of them, afraid of being caught. Truth be told, the hatred in his friend’s eyes and the look on his face scared Rudy. It was one thing to steal a pocket knife from a store; it was something else to physically hurt and scare someone who was just minding his own business. It made Rudy stop and wonder what he was getting into. He wanted to be someone, but this, this seemed wrong. Inside, he was ashamed he had just stood by and done nothing. Rudy should have said something or tried to pull his friend off that kid, but he didn’t. He was too afraid.

  Not knowing what to do, Rudy decided to go back to Jacob’s. It would give him time to think and provide an excuse for not being around his friends. Besides, he hadn’t told his mama that he’d ditched the job. Maybe now she would never have to know.

  Rudy rarely spoke at Jacob’s house—just a question here or there, a comment on the heat, and to ask for a glass of water. Jacob seemed to respect his silence, and that was just fine with him. From all that he could see, these three old men really liked each other and got along. It was kind of funny to be around them, different than what he was used to. Every now and again, they would talk about something from the past that piqued his interest, but he would never ask a question. Didn’t want to give the impression that he cared. He didn’t. “Was just curious—that’s all.

  The tattoo on Jacob’s arm had a story, and he wanted to hear it, but Jacob never mentioned it. Finally, one day while they were all eating lunch, he found himself staring at it again as Jacob reached for a pitcher of tea that Frederick had made. Jacob caught him again in his st
are and finally said, “Do you know what this is?” Jacob was pointing to the number emblazoned on the inside of his forearm. Rudy, embarrassed, shook his head no. “Sometime, maybe, I will tell you a very terrible story, but not today.” Rudy was disappointed but just shrugged like it was no big deal. Inside, his hunger grew to hear the story. Frederick picked up on it but said nothing. Yoshito just watched the boy, wondering if he could be saved from the life he was tumbling toward.

  Now Rudy had a reason to show up each day. Each day that he strolled up the driveway, he thought that maybe today he would hear Jacob’s story. Sometime before the fence was down, he would get the old man to tell it to him.

  Chapter 4

  Rudy showed up on a Wednesday a couple weeks into the job only to find that Jacob was not feeling well.

  As he had resigned himself to working for the summer, Rudy’s anger at being there lessened. When he asked Frederick if Jacob was okay, Rudy surprised himself at his own genuine concern.

  “He just had a rough night. Didn’t get much sleep. Just needs some rest. I’ll be helping you today,” Frederick said, greeting him as he walked up the driveway.

  “Let’s go over to my side of the fence so as not to disturb Jacob.” Rudy followed dutifully around the front of Jacob’s house and up the driveway to the back of Frederick’s house. It was odd to see it from the other side of the fence. It was the same, but different too. It was the difference of looking at a picture and being in the picture.

  Still, Rudy was disappointed about this turn of events. And though Frederick was nice enough, he knew it was going to be a long day, and now it would not be the day he would learn Jacob’s story. For some reason, he couldn’t get that tattoo out of his head. Maybe Frederick knew the story.