by Andrew Kane
Paul was self conscious, realizing that his getup made him look quite different from the last time she’d seen him. He smiled uneasily.
Loretta stepped up and gave him a hug. “It’s been a long time!” she said.
“It has,” Paul agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner.”
“I see you met Joshua,” she said.
Paul and Joshua simply looked at one another.
“Why don’t we all go sit in the living room,” Loretta suggested, leading the way. “Would you like a cold drink?”
“I’ll have some water,” Paul answered.
Loretta smiled, knowing that Paul chose the water because it was kosher. She got up and went into the kitchen.
Paul and Joshua sat in the living room. The silence was unnerving. He wished he hadn’t come. The animus in Joshua’s eyes didn’t help.
“I’ve heard a lot about you over the years,” Paul said, his voice frail, equivocal.
“Me too,” Joshua answered. Forced civility.
Paul didn’t know what to say next. “I guess you’ve heard that I’m in school just a few blocks from here?”
Joshua nodded.
“I see you around sometimes in shul, I mean synagogue.”
“I know what a shul is.”
Paul nodded apologetically. “I’ll bet you probably know a lot of Yiddish words by now.”
“Some.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like what?
“Working in the shul.”
“It’s okay.”
Loretta’s reentrance seemed a welcome reprieve to both boys. “Here’s some water for you, Paul, and some soda for Joshua.” She placed a serving tray on a frayed oak coffee table.
Paul leaned forward, took his glass, sat back on the couch, and looked around the dimly lit room. He tried to be subtle, but wasn’t doing a very good job. It was obvious that he wanted to see how the “other half” lived.
It was clean, of course; he’d expected no less from the woman who kept his mother’s house. The furniture was worn and rickety, and the paint on the walls was peeling. The dull green vinyl couch on which he sat had seen much use, its torn surfaces covered by a large, hand-knit, rust-colored woolen blanket. The decaying wood floor was covered by a threadbare brown rug to prevent splinters. He concealed his dismay.
“So you boys were talking while I was in the kitchen?”
“Yes, we were,” Paul answered.
Joshua remained silent.
“I’ve actually seen Joshua in the synagogue,” Paul said.
“And you didn’t known it was him?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s funny all right, don’t you think, Joshua?”
“Guess so.” Impassive.
If looks could talk, the one Loretta gave Joshua would have said, Get conversational!
“How are my parents doing?” Paul asked.
“You haven’t talked to them?”
“Once in a while I call, but you see them every day.” He was discomfited by the question; he’d barely spoken with them at all recently. He knew that Loretta had known this, for there was nothing in the Sims’ home that escaped her awareness. She was only trying to drop a hint for him to be more mindful about being in touch with them.
“They’ve been okay,” she said, “but your mother’s been acting a bit strange lately.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at Joshua, wondering if it was appropriate to discuss this in his presence. She knew he was just waiting for an excuse to leave, and didn’t want to give him one. Reluctantly, she responded, “Well, she’s been real quiet, keeping to herself all the time. She hasn’t been going out much, and she doesn’t ask for much either. I think she’s got a touch of melancholy.”
“I think I will call her later,” Paul said, knowing that he wasn’t really going to, and suspecting that Loretta knew it too.
“Can I bring you another drink?” Loretta asked.
“Not really, thank you. I have to get going. I have to be back for lunch and afternoon classes.”
“Oh,” Loretta said, seemingly disappointed that the boys didn’t get time to talk.
Paul rose from the couch. “Well, it was good finally meeting you,” he told Joshua, as he held out his hand.
“Good meeting you,” Joshua replied indifferently.
Loretta led the way to the door, opened it, and embraced Paul. “Now you know where I live,” she said. “Come anytime, whenever you want!” Her eyes welled up, as if she knew it would be a while before she would see him again.
Joshua stood beside his mother, observing her sadness as Paul walked down the hallway to the elevator. He had always been jealous of Paul Sims, for all Paul had, and for the way his mother felt about Paul. But now, it was no longer jealousy that he felt. It was something much more venomous, albeit equally primitive, a feeling with which he was becoming increasingly more familiar as his life progressed: hatred.
CHAPTER 24
Rachel Weissman thought it was a bad idea, but she went along anyway. Not because Esther Mandlebaum had promised it would be the last time—Esther’s promises held little credibility—but for her own adventure. There was no denying it, the boys in the park enticed her.
So there they were, Rachel and Esther, despite their last encounter, en route to the park. It was mid-October, and Indian summer temperatures were well into the seventies: perfect for the occasion. Perhaps this would be their final excursion, for the days would soon grow cold.
It was just after school, and Rachel wasn’t scheduled for the hospital that afternoon. She worked with Doctor Schiffman only two afternoons a week—a compromise she’d arrived at with her parents. She was glad for even that, considering her father’s apprehension. But she had stood her ground, and her mother’s silence on the matter had helped as well. Isaac Weissman was becoming weary of losing such battles, but his love for his daughter seemed to soften the blow.
They sat on a bench, pretending—however poorly—not to ogle. They teased one another, trying to enhance the pleasure of this final performance, masking their embarrassment at the thought that the boys might be on to them. And then it was over. The sun had fallen behind the buildings bordering the west end of the park, and the coolness of the night began to settle in. The crowd on the courts was thinning, and for Rachel and Esther it was time to go home. They looked at each other with sadness.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” Esther said.
Rachel knew how important all this was to Esther—not only because of the boys, but because of their strengthening bond and mutual act of defiance. She knew it because she felt it too. “Yes, I suppose so,” she sighed. “I’m glad we did this today.”
They stood up. Rachel picked her sweater up from the bench, and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s getting chilly,” she said.
“Yeah, I know.”
They walked slowly to the park’s exit, and as they came out, Rachel said, “Do you think we should take a different route this time.”
They looked at one another—the sort of look that only the closest of friends understand. They would return home the same way they always had. They weren’t going to be intimidated. One last act of defiance.
Determined yet cautious, they started down Crown Street. All was quiet for a short while, till they reached the middle of the block and heard familiar voices up behind them. It was too late to turn back.
“Well, look what we got here,” one of the boys said while the others chuckled.
“Hey Tim, ain’t these those kike bitches we run into a few weeks ago,” another added.
Rachel took Esther’s hand as they hastened their pace. But the boys closed in quickly and jumped in front of them.
Rachel scrutinized the four faces, trying to get a good look at each one, hiding her terror. Esther was starting to quiver. One of the boys looked at Esther with a snide grin, and said, “You afraid of something, honey?”
Rachel tugged Esther’
s hand. “No,” she answered, “she’s not afraid of anything, so why don’t you go on and find someone who is!”
“Ooh, nice voice, sexy,” the one named Tim said, stepping forward and moving into Rachel’s face. Rachel figured him for the leader of the pack by the way the others stepped aside. She wondered if she should act scared, let them get their laughs, and maybe they would be on their way. She didn’t know what was best, she just did what came naturally. She didn’t retreat.
The one who was looking at Esther said, “I bet you are scared, real scared,” as he reached over and put his arm around her. Rachel grabbed her friend and pulled her away from him, as Esther let out the loudest scream Rachel had ever heard.
Joshua kept his summer job after school started, working four afternoons each week. His probation officer liked the fact that he had somewhere to go; his mother liked it that her son was being responsible; he liked seeing Rachel Weissman. Everyone was satisfied.
Calvin had let him off a few hours early this evening to study for a test. Loretta had suggested Joshua skip work altogether, but he had been keeping up nicely with his schoolwork, and he was confident he would ace the test. Loretta reluctantly agreed.
Joshua was strolling down Crown Street, taking his time getting home, thinking about Rachel. Since school had begun, he’d been seeing less of her. Her appearances in the synagogue were rare, and she seemed rather inattentive to him. It was always on him to initiate conversation, and he felt silly, especially knowing she was nothing more than a fantasy. But he just couldn’t help himself.
He considered the possibility that this was all nothing more than a distraction from Celeste. Celeste was forever in his thoughts, as was his determination to free her from Big Bob. He needed a plan, but was sidetracked with Rachel. From one impossibility to another.
Suddenly, he heard a loud scream, a girl’s voice. He looked down the block, and saw a bunch of boys surrounding two girls. For a second he thought they were playing some sort of game. Until he recognized the girls.
He didn’t see anyone else around. He counted four boys. Bad odds. He considered getting help, but heard another shriek, this one coming from Rachel. There was no time.
One of the boys was grabbing at Rachel’s breasts, while another held her. Joshua came up behind the one holding her, pulled him off her by his hair, while Rachel broke free from the other one.
Still holding the hair of the first one, Joshua wrapped his free arm around the neck of the second one, and brought them both down with him. They rolled around on the ground, Joshua kicking and punching with all his might. He landed a punch, hard into the nose of one of the boys, who cried out in pain.
The girls were screaming for help. They were free because all the boys were on top of Joshua. He tried squirming out from underneath, without success.
“Dirty little nigger!”
“We’re gonna kill your black ass!”
They overpowered him and began beating him. The girls kept yelling as he struggled. Suddenly, he felt a piercing, sharp sensation in his lower back, a harsh burning unlike anything he’d ever known. He screamed, his agony nullifying everything else around him. Then, silence and darkness.
He awoke in a strange bed, his arms attached to tubes and a beeping sound coming from a machine close by. He looked around and saw his mother in a chair next to the door, asleep. He called to her, but his voice was weak. He called again, this time straining to be heard. She jolted to consciousness.
“Joshua,” she said, hurrying to the bed. “Joshua, are you okay?”
“What happened? Where am I?”
She brushed his face with her hand. “Everything’s all right, don’t worry.”
“Where am I?” He could barely get the words out.
“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been hurt, but you’re okay.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’re tired, so rest now. We’ll talk later.”
He was tired. His entire body ached, except for his left leg, which he couldn’t feel at all. It was as if the leg wasn’t there.
“Mama, I can’t feel my leg.”
“I know,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.” More tears. “It’s the middle of the night, go back to sleep. I’ll be right here. We’ll talk about everything in the morning.”
He was freaking over the leg; it was obvious she knew something and wasn’t telling him. He tried to move it, and couldn’t, so he reached down to touch it. His arm and shoulder ached, every movement was tormenting. He finally had his hand on his leg, confirming it was still there. He was relieved, somewhat.
Loretta stood over him, coaxing him back to sleep. The drugs were strong, and he was finding it difficult to stay awake. He wanted to know more about the leg. She kept telling him to stop worrying and get some rest. Against his will, he found himself obeying her, drifting off into the darkness from which he’d emerged. It was a safe place, so it seemed.
The next time he came to, the room was bright and crowded. His vision was blurred, his eyes stinging from the light. He was still too groggy to make out the various voices. It took a few minutes, but gradually everything became clearer. He remembered where he was, and saw his mother, beside the bed, standing next to a strange woman in a white coat.
At the foot of the bed was someone else he knew: Rabbi Weissman. Next to the rabbi was Rachel and another girl. He thought for a moment, then recognized the girl as Rachel’s friend. He was beginning to remember some aspects of the incident—a good sign. But he still couldn’t feel his leg—a bad sign.
“Joshua, you’re awake!” Loretta said. Her enthusiasm made him worry even more.
“Mama.” He looked only at her, as if no one else was in the room.
“Yes, Joshua.”
“I still can’t feel my leg.”
Loretta was about to say something, when the woman in the white coat interrupted, “Joshua, I’m Doctor Schiffman. I’m the doctor who admitted you.”
He turned to her and asked, “Why can’t I feel my left leg?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” she answered.
She was about to remove the bed sheet to start her examination, when the Rabbi signaled her to wait. “Joshua,” he said, “you have done a great mitzvah, a great deed. You have saved my daughter, Rachel, and her friend Esther from harm, and I vant you should know that you are a hero. Ve vill not forget this, never.” The rabbi began to weep.
Rachel put her arms around her father. “Don’t worry, Papa,” she said, “everything’s all right, we’re okay.” She wiped his tears with her hand.
“Yes,” the rabbi said, “you are, thanks to Joshua.”
“Excuse me,” the doctor interjected, “but I really must examine Joshua now. I think it would be best if everybody left the room except for Mrs. Eubanks.”
“Miss. Eubanks,” Loretta corrected. It was just like her to make sure folks got things straight, even at a time like this.
“Yes, ve vill leave,” the rabbi said as he stepped closer to Joshua, reached out, and put his hand on Joshua’s forehead. “But ve vill be back to visit our hero, and ve vill be here for anything you need. He turned to Loretta, took her hand with both of his, and added, “Anything you need!”
With that, the rabbi walked out, Rachel and Esther following. As she was about to exit, Rachel turned her head to Joshua and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
No one else seemed to notice this private exchange between them. He was pleased by it, but his mind was really on his leg and the doctor’s examination.
“Let’s see what we have here,” she stated, lifting the sheet. “Now, Joshua, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’m also going to ask you to do some things for me. Just try to do your best.”
He nodded. Loretta stood by, watching closely. Her expression made him nervous.
“First,” Doctor Schiffman said, “has anyone told you what happened to you?”
“No!”
Schiffman looked at Loretta with surprise. “He just woke up,
” Loretta said defensively. “You see that for yourself.”
“But you told me that he also awoke during the evening,” the doctor stated.
“I couldn’t tell him then,” Loretta answered.
“Tell me what?”
“Joshua, when you were fighting with those boys in the street, one of them stabbed you,” the doctor said.
“Stabbed me! Where?”
“In the back, I’m afraid. That’s why you’re having that problem with your left leg. You see, there are nerves that run from your back into your legs, and it seems that the knife went into one of these nerves and damaged it.”
“What does that mean? I’ll get better, won’t I?”
“I hope so, but it’s too early to tell.”
Loretta ran her hand through his hair. “Of course you’re gonna get better, Joshua. You’re a strong young man, and you’ll be just fine.”
In the past, he would have found her words soothing, but now he wasn’t sure. Doctor Schiffman looked at his legs, and said, “Okay Joshua, I want you to wiggle the toes on your left foot.”
His head was propped up and he could see his toes. They weren’t moving.
Doctor Schiffman tried reassuring him. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll do better tomorrow.”
He found her unconvincing.
“Now try to move your foot around by rotating your ankle,” she said.
Nothing.
“Try to lift your whole leg up in the air.”
This time he struggled, turned, and pushed down from inside his gut. He created some interesting contortions, but produced no movement in the leg. Schiffman took a pin out from her pocket, and touched it to his big toe. “Do you feel a prick or anything?” she asked.
“No.”
She proceeded with his other toes.
“No.” Each and every time.
She worked her way up his leg, and as she got above his knee, he began to respond. The higher she got, the more he felt. “A good sign,” she stated, noting her findings in his chart. Neither he nor Loretta asked just how good.
