Jacob's Way (10 page)

The morning passed quickly. It was noisy, and Reisa's legs and feet grew tired. She sent Jacob home at twelve o'clock, for she could see he was weary. “You go home and rest and get something to eat.”

“All right, Reisa. I'll come back this afternoon, then you can take a rest.”

Reisa moved the pushcart several times, and more than once men stopped to flirt with her. Nearly all of them were Jewish. When the first one, a thin man wearing a fancy suit, made an improper suggestion, Reisa moved closer to him and stared him straight in his eyes. “Would you, a good Jew, show such disrespect for a daughter of Zion?”

The man flinched as if Reisa had struck him. He mumbled, “No offense,” and bought a pair of house shoes.

Reisa found this to be almost inevitably a good way to turn away those men who stopped at her cart. She was the only woman on the street with a pushcart, and some men seemed to feel that she would be easy.

Reisa had been prepared for this, and finally it ceased to be a problem. All she had to do was raise her voice so that those around would hear. “Would a good Jew show disrespect to a daughter of Zion?” she'd exclaim. And the man instantly would flinch and start to turn away. She discovered quickly that these men would buy out of embarrassment, if for no other reason.

Jacob came back and kept the cart and was pleased at her success. She left, got something to eat, then lay down for half an hour. But she worried about Jacob and soon was back. She sent him home very soon, for he obviously felt ill at ease.

Late that afternoon, when it was almost time to close, a burly policeman stopped by her. He had a red Irish face, red hair, and bright blue eyes. He twirled his stick and said, “Well, girlie. How's business?”

“Very good, sir.”

“I'll tell you what. After you get off I'll take you to a nice place, and we can have a talk.”

Reisa had spotted the wedding ring on the man's left hand. “You don't need me,” she said. “You should buy something nice and take it to your wife.” She smiled at him and saw his confusion. “I'll bet she's a good wife to you. You ought to appreciate her.”

The policeman laughed. “Well, faith and she is. I'll take that brooch.”

It was the most expensive thing that Reisa and Jacob had invested in, and she insisted on wrapping it up neatly in a piece of paper.

“You give her this and a big kiss, and you tell her how pretty she is, and what a good wife she is.”

The policeman stared at her and shrugged his shoulders. “You're all right, miss. I'll keep my eye out for you.”

Finally the day ended. When Reisa turned in the pushcart, she was able to carry the remainder of the goods back in one sack. When she got home, she went to Jacob's room and found that he was worried about her.

“Not to worry,” she said. “Look.” She pulled out the purse where she kept the money and poured it out on the small table by his bed. It was almost all in silver. Jacob stared with astonishment.

“Reisa! All this money?”

“Enough to buy more things. You can't sell out of an empty wagon,
Zaideh
.”

He laughed. “No,” he agreed, “I guess you can't!”

Eight

R
are indeed were the moments of pleasure that came to Reisa during her first weeks in New York. One of these, however, came on a Friday afternoon. Friday was a half holiday with many of the Jewish workers, and Reisa took a half day off to attend a wedding of a young woman who lived just down the street from them. Donning her only good dress and her best pair of shoes, she joined the wedding celebration. Dov was there, strangely enough, and she went to him at once.

“You like weddings, Dov?”

The black beard parted for her to see strong white teeth as the huge man grinned at her. “Like food and music,” he rumbled.

“So do I,” Reisa said. “Stay with me, and we'll eat them out of house and home.”

They were soon joined by Petya, and the three of them moved among the guests and the wedding party. The celebration took place in a vacant courtyard. The space was small, and the participants were many, but Reisa didn't care. A trio composed of an accordion, a flute, and a zither were playing vigorously, and the cheerful music seemed to brighten the air. It was the second day of May, and a festive atmosphere was everywhere.

Reisa moved about greeting those she knew and making new friends. She had become quite outgoing since taking to the street with a pushcart, and now she smiled as Joseph and Zillah brought some of their friends to her.

One of these friends introduced by Joseph was a young man named Zuriel Benjamin. He was a husky young man of about twenty-five, Reisa judged. His hair was black and glistening, and he wore a beard, which he kept trimmed short. His eyes were dark and shadowed by darker brows, and his skin was tanned dark by the sun.

“You are lately arrived from the old country, I suppose,” Zuriel said.

“Yes. We've just been here a few weeks.”

“How do you like it?”

“To be truthful, we came because we had to. There was a pogrom, and my grandfather and I had to leave.”

A shadow crossed the young man's face. “I left for the same reason.” He brightened then, saying, “You may be lonely now, but you'll make many new friends here.” He bowed suddenly, and his eyes sparkled. “I hope that I may be one of them.”

He was a very bold young man, and Reisa guessed that he had had much success with young women. She asked him if he worked in one of the factories in the district.

“Work in a factory! No! God deliver me from such a thing.” Genuine horror was in young Zuriel's eyes. “I worked in a factory when I first came here, for six months. It nearly put me in my grave working seventeen hours a day, six days a week! No factory for me! What about you?”

“My grandfather and I sell out of a pushcart in the streets.”

“Oh, yes. I did that myself for a while. But it was too hard, so I quit.”

Reisa had learned something about that. The pushcart furnished a bare living, but the peddlers were often victimized by brutal police methods. Every day several peddlers were accused of crimes such as obstructing street corners or peddling without a license. To avoid these arrests, the peddlers paid extortion. One of Reisa's acquaintances, a man named Seth Meyers, had refused to buy five one-dollar tickets to a police clam bake. He had been arrested the next day and stayed in jail until his fine was paid. While he was in jail, his pushcart had been thoroughly ransacked.

“It is hard,” she said feelingly.

“Too hard for me. What I did was leave the city. I'm still a peddler, but now it's with a pack on my back.”

Reisa had heard of men who filled packs with goods, strapped them on their backs, and made their way into the rural areas, dispensing all sorts of goods to the farmers and dwellers of small towns.

“That must be very hard,” Reisa commented.

“Hard? No, indeed! It's nothing like a pushcart or a factory.”

“But don't you get tired?”

“Oh, if I do, I stop and rest a day. There's always someone willing to take you in for a bit of cloth or a silver spoon.”

Reisa listened to him carefully, and finally Zuriel winked at her. “You ought to try it, Miss Reisa. But then you're a woman—I've never known a woman back peddler.”

“I could do it,” Reisa said abruptly. “I can walk as far as almost any man.”

“That may be, but it wouldn't be kosher for a young woman to walk alone.”

“I could take my grandfather with me. We could go together.”

“That would make it all right, I suppose.” Zuriel rubbed his chin and said, “I don't recommend it. Maybe I made it sound too easy. Sometimes it gets wet out there when it storms, and you have to take refuge in a barn. Other times it gets so hot you think you're going to melt. Sometimes there are bad dogs. It's not all fun. I wouldn't want to mislead you.”

“Tell me more about it, Mr. Benjamin.”

“Call me Zuriel. All right. Here's the way my days go…”

Reisa listened for the next half hour to the young man's tale. He made it sound almost romantic, and when he finished, she said, “Is it expensive to get started?”

“No. Not at all. You can't carry more than fifty dollars worth of merchandise in your pack. You pack it, you go out and walk to the villages, the farms, around the city, and then when you sell out, you come home and rest up.”

“How much can a person make doing that?”

“You'll never get rich,” Zuriel said regretfully. “But it beats the sweat shops, and it beats competing with all those fellows in the streets with pushcarts lined up for a mile.”

At this time the music rose again, and the wedding procession emerged from one of the buildings. When it reached the center of the courtyard it halted. A canopy was stretched over the principal figures. Prayer and benedictions were chanted. Finally the groom put the ring on the bride's finger, dedicating her to himself according to the Law of Moses in Israel. More prayers were recited. The bridegroom and the bride received sips of wine. A plate was smashed, and everybody cried as loud as they could, “Good luck! Good luck!” The band struck up a lively tune, and everyone went to congratulate the couple.

Reisa said good-bye to Zuriel, who promised to call on her. She smiled but gave him no answer.

Dov found her and said, “Come. We eat.” She held onto his huge arm as he led her to the tables. The wedding meal was quickly devoured, consisting of stuffed cabbages, stuffed potato cakes, chopped meat, and
schneken
or coffee cake. There was only a little wine, which Reisa did not take.

The party began to break up, and Reisa said good-bye to Dov and Petya. She made her way back to the Golds' house and sat out on the back balcony of the house thinking a great deal but giving only minimal answers to Zillah, who had joined her.

She went in later to help Mrs. Gold with supper, and afterwards she sat on the steps, still silent. Petya came by, and when he asked her to walk with him, she did. They walked down the streets, and she was astonished when he suddenly said, “Why don't we get married?”

Reisa's eyes flew open. She turned to face Petya, who was staring at her intently.

“Married! Why, Petya—”

“I know it's sudden, and you haven't thought of it. But I'm going to get ahead in this world, Reisa. I don't ask that we be married now, but we could be promised until I make enough to keep us.”

Reisa did not expect a romantic courtship, but the suddenness of Petya's offer took her by surprise. She, however, did not have to think about it, for her answer was already there. “I will not marry. Not for a long time, Petya. I have to take care of my grandfather.”

“I understand that, but when I make my way—”

“Besides,” Reisa interrupted him, “I don't think we have the right feelings for each other.”

Petya was confused. “What do you mean by that? You like me, don't you?”

“Well, yes, I like you, but that isn't enough. You must feel something very strong for the person you're going to spend your whole life with.”

Petya was downcast. “I think you're romantic.”

“Romantic? I don't believe so,” Reisa said. She felt very sorry for Petya and said, “You will make a lot of money, and you will find a good woman who will make you happy.”

They said no more. It was her first offer of marriage, and later that night she told her grandfather about it.

Jacob Dimitri listened as Reisa related the incident, and finally he said, “You do not care for Petya?”

“Oh, not like that.”

“Well, then you gave the right answer. Somewhere there is a man for you, and the two of you will find great happiness.”

Reisa was sitting across from him in the small parlor. He had been reading to her from the Hebrew Scripture, and she had interrupted him to tell her story. Now she said, “How will I know him?”

“You must ask God to reveal it to you. Many a man looks good when he's young, but he does not wear well. The same is true of women, I suppose. When I saw your grandmother for the first time, I had no idea she would be my wife. It was almost a year before I realized that I loved her and asked her to marry me.”

Reisa took all this in, and finally she said, “Maybe I will never marry at all.”

“That would be a waste for a true daughter of Zion! No, you will have a husband and children.”

Reisa did not speak for a moment, then she said, “
Zaideh
, I have something to say.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I met a young man today at the wedding. He's a backpack peddler.” She went on to describe Zuriel Benjamin's occupation, and when she finished, she said, “I think we ought to try that. I believe it would be better than a pushcart.”

Jacob threw up his hands and laughed aloud. “What in the world will you think of next? First it was a pushcart which no woman does—and now you're proposing to go out into the country when you know almost nothing about it. It would be too dangerous.”

“I do not think so,” Reisa said. “It would be hard, but you and I could catch one of the coaches out to the edge of town. Then we could get out and go through the farms, to the homes of those who live in small villages. Zuriel said that they are always glad to see peddlers. It makes a break in their day. We could carry things that they couldn't buy at their little stores in their communities.”

Jacob refused to consider such a thing. Reisa did not press him, but she resolved that she would not let the matter drop.

Two weeks passed, and each day Reisa kept her plan before Jacob in small ways. She would just mention the advantages of it and ignore the disadvantages, of course! Little by little she saw a change begin to take place in Jacob's mind. Finally, at the end of the week when she approached the subject again late one night, he said with resignation, “I see that we're going to have to try your plan or you will drive me crazy.”

Reisa apologized. “I'm sorry, but it's something that I think will be good for both of us. If we don't like it, we can always go back to the pushcart.”

That then settled the matter. The weather was fine, and Reisa began to collect the items. The next day Reisa purchased two used backpacks, one from a store and another from an elderly man who had once been in the business. Both were well worn but serviceable.

Selecting the merchandise was a matter of great thought. She made list after list, and as she had been told you can't sell out of an empty wagon, she determined to choose items that were light, small, and rather unusual. Her first items were the practical things such as needles, thread, and pins. She added ribbons for children and small shiny jewelry that brightened the drab monotony of the isolated people she would be selling to. She bought a few pairs of suspenders, a considerable amount of inexpensive jewelry, snuff boxes, combs, a few pair of spectacles, hair brushes, samples of peppermint, wintergreen, and cloves, a few spoons—not many because they were heavy—caps for men and boys, neckerchiefs and handkerchiefs for women, and bunches of bright-colored beads. She shopped for four days before her inventory was complete.

When she had all of her merchandise, more than enough to fill the two bags, she practiced putting it into the bags. In order to do this she divided things into smaller bags plainly marked with different colors. She knew that each of the backpacks would have to be unpacked, and the merchandise set out for the customers to see it all, or as much as possible. For over a week she worked on this project after she and Jacob got home from their pushcart sales.

Finally she said one evening, “We're ready,
Zaideh
. Tomorrow we will become backpack peddlers.”

“God help us,” Jacob smiled. “What will you think of next?”

But Reisa could tell that he was not unhappy. She worried that night as she got ready for bed. “Maybe I made it too rosy. Perhaps it will be too much for him.” She had packed the two bags carefully so that Jacob's contained the lightest material, hers the heaviest. Still, no matter what Zuriel Benjamin said, it was a new world for the two of them.