Jacob stood, fists clenched at his sides, looking down at the German, who in that instant seemed old, shrunken, smaller than he had when he’d first entered the room. For a split second, Jacob thought he saw the colonel shrink back, before a smile that could only be described as sinister enveloped his face.
“Well, well,” he said, “who would think that the boy has grown this much?” The eyes, two rolling beads of black now, the cheeks curled like a well-traveled road. Jacob felt as if his face might burst into flames.
“It’s all right, Jacob. It will not be for very long. Perhaps a day or two, isn’t that right, Colonel?” Her voice was calm, steady.
But Jacob ignored her. Frozen to the spot, his eyes riveted on the German’s still-grinning face. And before he knew what he was doing, his fists were punching that face, falling easily into the putty that was his skin. Jacob’s fists pummeled the stalwart soldier, and continued to beat him, until amid the frantic shouts of his parents, his father’s arms pulling him back, the veil of outrage finally slipped from the boy, until Colonel Reichert lay crumpled on the living room floor, a tired, quivering old man, senseless.
“Jacob! Jacob! What have you done? You have ruined us all!” his mama cried out, frustrated tears smeared across her cheeks. His papa, who had not uttered a word since he’d first opened the door to the chaos, stood silent still, then rushed to help the colonel slowly, arduously, to his feet. Once risen, his cap tenuously placed on the back of his head, he left the apartment, Mama quick at his heels, imploring, her cries racing down the hall.
Jacob stood for many minutes, fists raised, his breath coming fast. Somewhere far away he heard a door shut. Papa. He went back into his room and looked at the tidily made bed that was Leon’s. What would his brother have done to the Nazi in their home? Probably worse.
Jacob thought there was nothing more despicable at that moment, and he blamed both of his parents for this breach in loyalty, for Leon’s exit to join the Polish army, for the burned buildings, the isolation, the dead air that choked him by day so that he was forced to escape outdoors, and the terrors that plagued him at night. He blamed them for all of it.
Despite these thoughts that raced through his head like a herd of cattle running this way and that, he couldn’t squelch the flood of hot tears that now seared his face. Unable to stop crying, he lay facedown on his bed. He thought his heart might break.
The next morning, after a long hot bath, Jacob walked into the kitchen and cut himself a slice of black bread. He found his papa sitting just as he was the day before, carving the finishing touches on the wooden bowl. He looked up at his son but said nothing.
After five minutes, when he had finished the piece and wiped the shards off the table, he turned to Jacob. His eyelashes were tinged with tears.
“You don’t understand. I know that you couldn’t help yourself, but Jacob, you should have held back your anger in the same way I have for these many long years.”
Jacob lifted his head, but unlike the elder, his eyes had become daggers.
“In the same way you have held back? Don’t make me laugh! What man allows his wife, the mother of his children, to sleep in another man’s bed? And let us not pretend any longer that this is business.” He spat out the word. “We both know what is going on here, how she sends him messages with her smiles, how she comes home spent after being away all night. And with a Nazi! Tell me, Papa, what could be more vile? Only you, the husband who stands by and watches this circus all in front of his nose! Leon saw it, and that’s why he escaped from this home, willing freely to go into the army. Anything but this! Because you see, dear Papa, we, Leon and I, have come to own your jealousy. So that leaves me to be the man of the house, opening my eyes to this fiasco even if you cannot!”
Jacob turned from him, stared down at his coffee, feeling exhausted by this eruption of anger that he felt could go on forever. Yet, just as his anxiety had reached a climax, his father, Shmuel, became calmer, more reticent. Finally, he spoke.
“Jacob, my son whom I love more than my own life, again I tell you that you do not understand. You must accept the truth that I have come to accept many years ago, when you still wore a toddler’s coat. There was a friend, a salesgirl at Mama’s place of business when she was a typist for the linen shop which has long since closed. This salesgirl, Mildred, had a friend whose sister had married a German who rose in the ranks. They needed a typist and there was a job. At first, your mama said no, but then food was running low, and soon she discovered the job was more than just typing, that she would have access to certain papers which might be helpful to the Allies. Well, I cannot say more. All I can tell you is that the defeats the enemy has seen on the front, the foiled plans, well, she and a group of brave women are responsible for that. So, yes, I have had to stand aside these years when I would have liked nothing better than to crush his neck with my hands. But yet, I have held back. It’s the price we have to pay for the greater good. And no one more than your mama. Jacob, she is a hero.”