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Raizy Waxman limped around the bed on Thursday, tucking in the top sheet. Her leg hurt more than usual today. She attributed that to all the stair climbing. This was her first day working as the Grossman’s housekeeper.
The Sopoynik Rebbe arranged this job for her. She tried finding her own job, but when people saw how slowly she hobbled around they didn’t want her.
The Rebbe discussed her situation with the Grossmans, and they assured him she’d be welcome, and could take her time with her chores. They even bought her a recliner, and a little table in the basement near the laundry room where she could rest when she felt the need.
Insinuating themselves into Jewish communities like the Sopoynik Chassidim by posing as a poor Jewish widow and her son served them well. Aside from the help these communities offered without question, it hampered the ability for the authorities to track them down.
Before choosing to pose as secular Jews who recently adopted Ultra-Orthodox traditions, she researched this type of community. She finalized her choice when learning they handled issues internally, and rarely involved outside authorities.
She fluffed the pillows, smoothed the quilt, then headed downstairs to rest her leg before tackling the next bedroom.
She settled into her plush recliner, felt and heard the leather rubbing as she lowered the back, then heard the springs creak as she raised the footrest. She was thankful to have this job, but never forgave Frank for putting them in this position.
Things were great when she married Frank. They weren’t rich, but they were happy. They both worked—he as a factory custodian, and she as a housekeeper. They paid their bills, and got by.
After learning she was barren, Frank agreed to adopt, but she sensed he resented her for it.
After months of waiting, they adopted a two-year-old boy whose parents died in a car accident. She nurtured and loved him as her own, but Frank remained distant, and began drinking—heavily.
He stayed out past midnight, and came home reeking of alcohol.
It began with verbal assaults ending with Frank wearing himself out, and falling asleep. But when their son entered his teen years he began eating through the fridge faster than she could restock it. Frank’s rants turned to their exploding grocery bills, and the verbal tantrums morphed into an occasional slap. Eventually, slaps escalated into punches that left welts on her torso, arms, and face.
She was thankful that her son was deep asleep by the time Frank came home. At least she could shield him from the abuse.
When her son reached adulthood, he became a night watchman at the mall. He usually got home shortly after Frank dozed off, so she was able to continue shielding him from the abuse.
One night Frank came home later than usual. She could smell him even before she opened the door. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him.
Between his mumbling and grumbling she gathered he’d been fired.
It was nearly time for her son to arrive.
She tried coaxing Frank upstairs to bed, but that seemed to fuel his anger. He swung wildly at her while growling obscenities and accusations.
“Everyone tells me what to do!” he yelled in a slurred tongue. “I’m not gonna let my own wife do it too!”
Frank grabbed a baseball bat, and swung at her.
She sidestepped his first attempt, but he cracked a few ribs on his second swing.
She let out a loud wail of pain.
Frank wound up for a third swing just as her son burst through the front door. “Ma! What’s wrong?”
He grabbed at the bat, but Frank was too quick.
This time he nailed her knee with such force she crumpled to the ground screaming in pain.
Frank turned and wound up to swing at her son’s head.
“It’s your fault you little leech,” he said.
Her son blocked the blow with his arms, but Frank flung himself around, and hit him full-strength squarely on his ear.
She could see her son’s mangled ear bleeding, and watched as he wrestled the bat away from Frank.
He beat Frank with the bat relentlessly, and with a fury she’d never seen in him.
He continued beating Frank’s lifeless body until brains oozed from his skull.
She remembered how her son’s fury made her feel safe and afraid. She instantly knew it was something she’d have to help him manage.
The first thing they needed to do was disappear. There was no telling how the police would treat her son, even with her testimony about what happened. She doubted his actions would be seen as self-defense after he had control of the bat.
That’s when they started relocating every few years, and Raizy discovered the magic of Ultra-Orthodox Jewish communities.
The first time they tried it she saw how easy it was to fit in as ba’alei teshuva—newly religious Jews.
It was the perfect cover.
It explained why they didn’t know the rules and customs, or even how to read Hebrew.
As long as they dressed and acted the part no one questioned their authenticity. The community was warm, and well-connected. Someone always invited them for Shabbos and holiday meals, found them housing, and helped them find income.
At first, she tried to stay hidden in one community.
But after that night something wild unleashed within her son.
His lust for non-kosher food, and women eventually threatened to blow their cover, forcing them to move, and start over.
She realized they’d eventually exhaust all the domestic Jewish communities. They needed to escape to a country where they couldn’t be extradited, but that took the kind of money they just didn’t have.
Just as she was drifting off in the recliner, the chirping of her cell phone startled her.
“Hi Ma!” her son said. “How’s the new job?”
“You know,” she said. “It’s hard to get around, but these folks are amazing—so accommodating.”
“Well, I got really good news,” her son assured her. “I got something so valuable we can go wherever we want.”
“Oh?” she replied. “Something valuable? What mess have you gotten into this time?”
“Don’t worry Ma,” he said. “I found some diamonds nobody even knows exists.”
For the first time since that awful day Raizy was cautiously optimistic. If nobody knew about their existence nobody would come after him.
“Even so,” she warned, “be careful not to draw too much attention. You’ll need to sell them. My new employer, Reuven Grossman, is a diamond dealer. Take one diamond to him—just one. Do not take them all. Tell him you bought it for an engagement ring, but the girl broke it off. Tell him you need the money, and want his opinion on its value. Based on what he says we’ll know the real value, and can sell them one at a time to different people.”
She gave him Reuven Grossman’s number, then said, “I’ll tell him to expect your call.”