“Nu, Jacob, you are up so late still. How is it you have so much work for school?” the old woman asked in Yiddish, pulling her pink fleece robe tighter across her chest.
“It is nothing, Tante,” he said, raising his head just long enough to answer in English, his now-preferred language. “Don’t bother yourself about me. I’ve just forgotten about some homework. You should go back to bed.”
“Very well, then,” she said, as she moved closer to kiss him on the forehead, “but try not to stay up too late. You do need to get up early tomorrow morning, you know.”
Jacob didn’t mind that his aunt and uncle treated him as if he were six instead of twenty-six. After all, it was his father’s brother who had sponsored his journey to America and even provided him with his own bedroom in the couple’s small walk-up apartment in Borough Park, insisting that he could stay as long as he needed. His aunt and uncle, who had immigrated to the US in 1937, had been spared the horrors of living through the war and were more than happy to provide safety and a future for Abraham’s brother’s one surviving child. As for Jacob, who had long ago forgotten a mother’s loving touch, he was eager to help out at Uncle Abraham’s grocery and also earn a paycheck at the seltzer-bottling factory. Jacob assisted Aunt Rose with the laundry and household chores, sometimes even broiling a chicken or making a potato soup for dinner. She was grateful for his help, certainly, as arthritis through the years had gnarled her hands and made her gait unsteady. But even if Jacob had not done all this, the childless couple loved him as their own. For Jacob, the love he received in their household was like water gushing from a hose, filling what seemed like a bottomless hole inside. He had no plans to leave anytime soon.
The next day, when he walked into the classroom, she was already there, but now seated second row, center. Before taking the seat in front of her, he nodded politely. She smiled back. Could it be she was really glad to see him? The class filled up shortly afterward, and the lesson began. Jacob, though, found he couldn’t concentrate, as he felt her eyes upon his back for the duration of the class.
“Mr. Stein?”
He startled, his mind failing to register the words.
“Mr. Stein, would you care to read your essay for us?”
Jacob swallowed. Without thinking, he shook his head.
“I’m sorry, sir. Not tonight.” He mumbled something about his throat.
“Very well, then. How about you, Mr. Polansky?”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t done a good job on the assignment. But perhaps this time it was too much. Too much of Jacob on the paper. And he wasn’t ready to share it with the class. Least of all Esther. He felt his back grow hot.
Throughout the first hour of class, Jacob sensed the drone of a voice, copied notes from the blackboard mechanically, all the while feeling that he was running a fever. Maybe he should go home. But before long, he heard soft murmuring around him, saw the shuffling of feet. It must be the ten-minute break. His heart jumped as he realized he could no longer move. Not even a finger. But then there was a tap on his shoulder, the sound of a voice.
“Jacob, are you well?”
He looked up to the glittering crystal-blue eyes, the bow-like lips. He tried to compose himself.
“Of course, Esther, of course. I am well. I was just thinking about the lesson.”
“I see,” she answered. Jacob saw a twinkle in her eye as he got to his feet.
“Let’s go out into the hall.”
He escorted her into the dimly lit corridor, offered her a cigarette, which she declined. They spoke only English now as they stood, he facing her, she in a striped tan-and-white dress held by a red patent leather belt, hand pushing back the curl in her soft brown hair.
You can learn much in the space of ten minutes, he decided, for he did learn quite a bit about Esther Itzkowitz, who was much more than the color of her eyes. Like himself, she was Polish, but she had been born in ?ód?, the city that would become a Jewish ghetto and a Nazi holding cell, where the populace dwelled before marching into Auschwitz. But Esther and her family had been lucky, taking their chance to come to America when they still could, just before the doors were slammed shut. Though there were a couple of cousins who had perished in the ensuing years, freedom for Esther and her family had never been a dream, a prize to be won as it had been for Jacob, but the natural order of things.
Jacob envied her, but only a little. He was glad that she had never known the fear of opening one’s eyes at daybreak, wondering what if any terrors could befall you at any hour. Unlike Jacob, she wasn’t a shell, consumed each night by the nightmares of the past. Esther was whole, her spirit filled with the promise of a happy future, while Jacob, though hopeful, was a survivor who still had his doubts.