Twenty-Six

I wish you wouldn’t sit and watch me dress with that silly look on your face,” Fanny said.

“I like your hair the other way better.”

“Which way?”

“Pulled back, not hanging in your eyes.”

“Why don’t you bury your face in a book?”

“I’d rather watch you.”

“There’s nothing to watch. I’m through.”

“Really? That’s the way you’re going to look?”

Fanny grabbed her pillow and threw it at Sarah, who burst out laughing.

§

Jacob and Rifke were playing chess. Rifke glanced at the clock. “I can’t concentrate, Jacob.”

“Good. I might have a chance to win.”

“Where is that girl?” Rifke got up and looked out the window. The moon, bandaged in gauzy clouds, gave no light to the dark street.

“Rifke, come, sit down, play. You drive yourself crazy.”

“I don’t drive myself crazy. Fanny does.”

A moment later the door opened and Fanny burst in. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Sarah poked her head out of the curtains. Fanny had a rose tucked under the blue ribbon in her hair. If she raised her arms, Sarah thought, she could fly.

“I’ve been worried half to death,” Rifke said.

“I bet Papa wasn’t worried.” Fanny directed a coy smile at Jacob. “Were you, Papa?”

“A half hour late, I don’t worry. But an hour, I worry.”

“Who took you home so late? Frieda’s brother?”

“Yessss…No…” Fanny carefully pulled the rose out of her hair and smelled it.

“Who?” her mother demanded.

“I don’t want to lie so I’m not going to tell you.” She started to walk to her bedroom, but her mother grabbed her arm.

“Then I will tell you! It’s that boy, the Irish one you promised you wouldn’t see any more.”

Fanny broke away and darted between the blue curtains. Her mother followed. “You don’t lie, no! But you cheat!”

Sarah ducked under her blanket.

“I cheat because you make me. And I hate you for it!”

“Enough, Rifkela,” Jacob called.

“Enough, yes, enough!” Rifke shouted. “More than enough.” She strode to her bedroom and slammed the door.

Jacob walked into the cubicle. Fanny’s blue eyes were streaming with tears. He took her into his arms. She permitted him to hold her for a moment, then pulled away.

“It is a heartbreak for your mother and me to think of you with a boy who isn’t Jewish.” He took Fanny’s hand into his. “You, thank God, have not suffered what your mama and I have suffered, just for being Jews. We hide those stories but maybe now is the time to pull them out.”

He paced like an animal in too small a cage. “The czar’s soldiers set our synagogue on fire. Our rabbi tore loose from his brothers, people grabbing him to hold him back. No use. He ran through the flames to save the Torah. The oldest brother ran to pull him from the flames. A wall crumbled and buried him.”

Jacob’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “The mother tore her hair out in clumps. Two sons burnt to ashes in one night.” He sat on Sarah’s bed and buried his face in his hands. When he finally looked at Fanny his eyes seemed like two dark holes. “Suffering for no reason but that you’re a Jew makes you feel safe with no one but your own. A religious Christian man—the mill owner, our neighbor in the shtetl—after Sunday mass he joins a gang of animals and rapes a Jewish wife in front of the husband, then shoots them both… Not all Christians are like him, no, but who can pick out the evil from the good? So you meet an Irish boy, he tells you sweet things, you fall in love and want to marry, but you know nothing about the boy, about his family, his religion, the soil he grew up on. He knows nothing of yours. And maybe the first year is filled with milk and honey, but then the baby comes. The Irish husband cannot stand the tiny necklace with the Jewish star around his baby daughter’s neck. It is foreign, repulsive…and you? The Virgin Mary on the wall above your child’s crib? You cannot do it. Mary is not yours, Moses is not his. All the sweet kisses of young love, where are they now?”

For a moment there was silence. “I’m sorry you suffered, Papa,” Fanny said finally. “But I have to live my life, not yours.”

Jacob sighed, stood up and touched his daughter’s cheek. “Here is the heartbreak, Fanny. The child’s life is her mama’s and papa’s life, her happiness their happiness, her hurts a heavy stone on their hearts. But the child?” He paused. “She sees her life separate from the mama and papa, to live the way she wants. So…how do we keep from heartbreak?”

Fanny’s face softened and she stroked her father’s hand. “I don’t know, Papa. All I know is that I love Sean and want to be with him.”

Jacob got to his feet.

“Good night, Papa.”

The blue curtains closed behind Jacob like broken wings.

Sarah waited until she heard her parents’ bedroom door close. “Fanny, I thought…”

“Sean and I made up. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Sarah watched her sister turn off the light, undress, and bury herself under her covers. Trying to get Fanny to talk would be as useless as banging her own head against a wall. Wrapping her blanket around herself, she climbed out of bed and walked softly into the living room where she huddled on the couch and stared out at the three-quarter moon, so unbalanced it looked as if it would fall out of the black sky. She shivered, chilled by the certainty that their lives in these old, familiar rooms would never again be the same.