SEVEN
Jacob
In the end, he couldn’t persuade him to stay. No matter how much Jacob argued, cajoled, and even pleaded with him, Zalman remained obstinate, determined to go back to the farm in Minnesota. At first Jacob was frustrated. He even encouraged Esther to convince him, for he knew Zalman had developed a certain fondness for his wife, whom Zalman now looked upon as a sister. But no matter how much Esther smiled or batted her long auburn lashes as she spoke to him in soothing tones, Zalman would not budge. He simply grinned again, calling Jacob a “lucky man” to have such a wife.
Had the farmer’s affection for Zalman, the promise of security, so changed him that he had found it difficult to turn away? Or perhaps it was the quiet country charm of the farmer’s daughter that drew him back. Ultimately, Jacob concluded that it was none of these things, but that Zalman had found a home where he was as much a part of the land as the cows, the willow trees, the fields of growing corn.
As Jacob placed his arms around the man who had become more of a brother to him than his own had been, he tried not to let Zalman see the tears that were forming in his eyes. Adjusting the brim of his hat, he shook Zalman’s hand one last time before getting into the new blue Ford sedan, a gift from his father-in-law, and driving north with his new bride.
“Best of luck to you and Esther. May you both have a life filled with mazel, many blessings. And don’t forget to write! I look forward to your letters,” Zalman said, this time in English, as he, too, averted his eyes.
“You too. You don’t forget either. And all the best,” replied Jacob as he settled into the driver’s seat and locked the door just as an icy wind had picked up.
Neither man, however, was true to his word. It would be more than a year before Jacob would hear from Zalman. Perhaps it was because both had become too busy—Zalman with the daily tasks of keeping the farm sustainable, and Jacob with learning the business of real estate. Or maybe, as is usually the case with spans of distance and time, each had so much to say that neither was willing to expend the effort, and so said nothing.
Living with his in-laws and studying the numbers, the records, the contracts of real estate, while daunting at first, proved to be satisfying for Jacob. He enjoyed the stability of a home, his clothes laundered, his eggs prepared just the way he liked, and as he assumed more and more responsibilities at EMI Realty, he had come to realize that he was no longer standing at the door looking in, but rather a man, an important man, who was now part of the world he craved. Weekly, he would travel to see Aunt Rose and Uncle Abraham, noticing their hands becoming more gnarled, their backs more stooped with each visit. Yet, without exception, the smiles that flashed across their faces and momentarily shaved away the years appeared each time he would walk through the door. And since the day Jacob had left the seltzer-bottling company and his job of filling, sorting, and stacking, he hadn’t missed it. Not one bit.
Although Jacob was content with his new life, paradoxically, the yearning, as if there was something more ahead, never left him. He liked his tasks, even if he had to dress up in a gray pinstriped suit and red tie for meetings with clients. He found himself waking, despite the alarm clock’s shrill ring, ten minutes earlier each day, and as he placed his head on the pillow each evening, numbers and names and new ventures would float through his mind, directionless, like blackbirds. Jacob had a destination, though, and even if he couldn’t quite formulate how he would arrive there or what it was, he knew that everything, even the terrors in his life, had conspired just so he could reach that moment. And something told him it was coming very soon.
After only a month of married life, Jacob also knew he had made a good choice in Esther, who was becoming more loving, more devoted to him with each day. And if it were possible, also more beautiful. Her chestnut hair, which had grown longer, sparkled as sun seeped through the windows in the early morning, and her eyes seemed more brilliant. But maybe, he concluded, that was just the way it was when women were in love.
Mornings Jacob would leave the city apartment with Esther and Boris, their bellies full of french toast slathered with strawberry jelly, hot coffee, and, for Esther, her rose tea. Each carried an attaché case with a dozen papers and pens along with lunch: an apple and bologna sandwiches for father and daughter, liverwurst with an occasional Hostess Twinkie for Jacob. Esther was a patient teacher, explaining the nature of the documents, tax forms, even stock market fluctuations. Jacob was a quick and avid learner. But over the course of a month, he noticed a peculiar thing. As he assimilated more knowledge, Esther grew quieter, less animated. The more papers she placed on his desk, the cleaner hers had become; the more tenants and associates he saw, the fewer work calls Esther assumed. As he grew fat with each new duty, with the knowledge, Esther had seemed to seep away, as if her brain had become a sieve. She no longer dressed for work, preferring to wear pedal pushers and to tie her hair with a bow just like one of the teenagers who huddled together on street corners. One morning, Esther decided not to get up for work.