Twenty-One

Sarah knew Bianca would come with her to Sean’s house. She loved things that had a hint of adventure. She also knew her way around the different neighborhoods.

“I think this is it,” Bianca said, stopping in front of a narrow, two-story gray house. A buggy was parked near the door with a rag doll hung over its side. “Go ahead, knock on the door.”

“You.”

She gave Sarah a push. “Go!”

Sarah walked up the stairs and knocked lightly on the door.

No answer. She knocked louder and, after a moment, the door opened a crack.

“Who?”

“I’m Fanny Goldman’s sister. I have a note for Sean.”

The door opened a little wider and an old woman thrust a withered hand through the crack and snapped the note up. The door closed.

“It was like being in a fairy tale with an evil witch,” Sarah whispered as they hurried away.

They decided to walk to the Hull House courtyard. It was empty except for a bearded man asleep on one of the benches, a crutch lying across his lap. The water streaming over the tiers of the fountain made a soothing sound not quite drowned out by the street noise. A sparrow perched on the basin of the fountain and bobbed its head in the water spray.

“I love this fountain,” Bianca said. “It’s the only one I’ve ever seen outside of a book.”

“Can you listen to any more bad stuff?” Sarah asked.

Bianca shrugged. “It depends how bad.”

“Very bad.” Sarah drew in a deep breath. “Last night…we were all sleeping… someone threw a rock through our shop window. The rock…it was pretty big…had ‘Kike…go back to Russia’ written on it.” It hurt Sarah just to say the words. “It brought up such bad memories for my father.” Tears wet Sarah’s eyes and she dug for a handkerchief in her book bag.

Bianca threw her arms around Sarah in a quick hug. “That’s awful.”

“The rock might as well have hit my father in the face.” Sarah swatted the tears off her cheeks, put the handkerchief back and sat motionless, her face stony.

“Do you have…bad memories too?” Bianca asked tentatively.

Sarah leaned back against the bench. She kept her eyes on the sparrow still bobbing beneath the spray. “I was scared a lot in Russia, too scared to go to sleep sometimes in case the drunken soldiers would come and burn us all up in our beds.” She stood up. “We’d better go.” Some memories were just too painful.

They walked out of the courtyard. It was a lovely, sunny day with a balmy breeze. Such a day was a gift, but Sarah was not able to enjoy it.

Was this what growing up was about? Knowing that at any time someone could throw a rock with a horrible message through your window and that your sister’s boyfriend had turned out to be a thief?

Bianca put her arm through Sarah’s.

“Bianca, thanks for coming with me today.”

“It was nothing.”

Sarah felt tears again, but she shut her eyes and squeezed them back. “What would I do without you?”

Bianca squeezed her hand. “You‘ve done just fine for fifteen years.”

Sarah looked at her friend solemnly. “I’m not so sure.”