Part Five
Dev, 1917
Chapter 11

Sunday breakfast was silent and cold. My father had won the argument that lasted until dawn. He was adamant that if his son was in trouble, God would send word to us. We would not look for him. In the meantime, we were to assume his disappearance was voluntary. My body, lying rigid on the couch, had finally succumbed to exhaustion and the desire to blot out my parents’ voices. I fell into such a deep sleep that I didn’t wake up during the night to feed the stove. It was another reminder, as we shivered around the table, that Shmuel, who never failed in this task, was gone.

My father went to work but my mother didn’t want to leave the apartment in case there was news of my brother, so she sent me to United’s for a package of Lister’s Towels. Before Shmuel started acting weird, he used to take me there once a month for a cola. Soda was another thing Papa didn’t allow in the house, even though it wasn’t trayf. He gave the usual excuse, that you couldn’t be sure what was in the bottles or on the hands of the people who delivered them, but I think it was the cost. Onkel Gershon bought Hires by the case and he was as kosher as Papa.

The druggist raised his eyebrows when I put the money in the special box on the counter.

“My mother sent me.” I should have stopped there, but I added, “She’s not feeling well,” which implied there was more I wasn’t telling. The druggist waited, but when I simply stared at him, he handed me the package. I slipped it under my arm, regretting I hadn’t brought a satchel.

It was still early in the morning, so my chances of getting home unobserved were good. The Catholics in the neighbourhood wouldn’t be going to church for an hour, and Jews were at work or catching up on the errands they were forbidden to do yesterday. I took a chance that the street would remain deserted and lingered outside to look at the Navy poster in the window.

The last time we got sodas, Shmuel stopped to read the poster too. I’d been impatient, hoping to get in a game of potsy with Leah before it got dark, but today I looked more closely. Against an image of a sailor and a flag were the words: “Be Ready! A U.S. Party will visit the Navy Recruiting Station to examine and enlist men for the Naval Service on these dates.” The last two dates on the list were coming up; the one before had taken place Tuesday of this week.

“Thinking of disguising yourself as a boy and enlisting? Or just looking at the cute sailor in the picture?”

I knew before I saw his reflection in the window that it was Yaakov. My brother’s friend thinks he’s an egg, a big person destined for a big life, but the only thing big in his future is his mouth. I knew Bernie would be right behind him. He was cuter than the sailor on the poster, but he wasn’t stuck on himself. He was self-conscious about his skin, which was a little blemished.

“Just having perturbations about our brave men fighting overseas. There’s a war going on, if you hadn’t noticed.” I tried to brush past them, but the package knocked against Yaakov’s jutting elbow and fell to the pavement. When I blushed and bent to retrieve it, he snatched it up.

“What’s in here?” He held the parcel to his ear and shook it.

“Give it back. It’s for my mother.” Once more I’d said too much. Yaakov tossed the pads to Bernie. I was ready to run home without them, but Bernie held the plainly-wrapped box out to me. “Here, Dev. Whatever it is, I’m sure Mrs. Levinson needs it.”

“Thank you, Bernie.” The skin on his lightly-pimpled cheeks turned red when I said his name. He looked like he wanted to run home too.

“Shmuel wasn’t in shul,” said Yaakov. “You hiding him in another mystery package?”

Wisdom told me to keep my mouth shut and escape, but again I opened it. “Maybe you’re the one hiding Shmuel.” I tried to sound flippant, but my voice cracked at my brother’s name.

“What do you mean?” Bernie stepped closer to me.

“He’s been missing since Friday morning.” I’d sassed Yaakov just for fun, but suddenly the words of my taunt rang true. My mother’s first instinct had been right. If anyone had a clue about where Shmuel was, it would be his two best friends.

The boys looked at each other and then back at the recruiting poster. “We thought it was just a lot of talk,” Yaakov said. “It never occurred to us that he’d go through with it.”

Bernie paled, making his pimples more prominent. “If I’d known he was serious, I would have spoken to your parents.”

“He’s only been gone two days. I’m sure Papa can find him and make him come home.”

“That might be hard, Dev. Your brother’s smart, like you. He knew he’d have to lie about his age to enlist. I’m guessing he lied about his name too, so the Navy couldn’t check up on him.”

Now I did run home. When I became a star, I promised myself, I wouldn’t pull a Theda Bara. I’d keep my real name.