The Family Moskat (50 page)

Bashele fussed about her husband, offering him more of the meat, some sour pickles, some sauerkraut. "Koppel, you sit here as though you were a stranger. Have you got a headache or something?"

"What? I'm all right."

"It isn't like you to fall asleep in the daytime."

Koppel turned to Manyek. "What's the news at your school?"

he asked.

Before the boy could answer, Shosha burst out giggling. "You should have seen the way our teacher took a flop!"

A man who has a cow for a wife has calves for children, Koppel thought. He had no appetite left for the food. The moment the meal was over he put on his coat and went to the door.

"Koppel, don't come home late," Bashele called after him, although he was not in the habit of turning in much before two in the morning.

The stairways were dark. He turned left up the street. On Mala Street, not far from St. Petersburg Station, lived the Oxenburg family, whom Koppel frequently visited. On the floor above, in the same house, lived Mrs. Goldsober, the young widow of an old carpet merchant. Koppel and his intimates would gather at the Oxenburgs' a few times during the week. The Oxenburgs had a large five-room flat. Rents were cheap in the Praga section. The only drawback was that the whistling of the locomotives could be heard all through the night. But the Oxenburgs were so used to the noise that in the summer months, when they went away to the country, they could not sleep.

"The silence rings in your ears," Isador Oxenburg would complain.

At one time Isador Oxenburg had owned a few restaurants, in Praga and Warsaw proper. Oxenburg's tripe was famous. But since his health had gone he had occupied himself renting out cooking utensils and dishes for weddings. His wife, Reitze, acted as -322-agent for

domestics. They had a son of whom it was reported that he was a fence, a receiver of stolen goods. But the parents had a good deal of joy from their daughters, Zilka and Regina. Zilka's husband, an employee in a piece-goods firm on Gensha Street, earned thirty rubles a week. Regina was engaged. Mrs. Oxenburg must have been a beauty in her youth, but now she was so fat that she had difficulty getting through a doorway. She weighed over three hundred pounds. Nevertheless she ran the household affairs, fussing about with the servant girl and quarreling with her husband. Oxenburg, tall and thin, with a scrawny, veined neck and a beer-colored mustache, carefully waxed and pointed in the Polish manner, was a drinker, spending more time on a sofa than on his feet. He was given to playing solitaire. Whenever he had an argument with his wife he would thump his fist against his chest and shout at the top of his voice: "Do you know who you're talking to? Isador Oxenburg! You've sucked me dry, like a leech! Look at what you've done to me!"

And he would point to his sunken cheeks, which had a sickly blue tinge, as though the flesh had been plucked clean.

2

Isador Oxenburg and Koppel both belonged to the Anshe Zedek Society. Koppel was practically a member of the family at the Oxenburgs'; he even had a key to the house. In the hallway he took off his overcoat and hat and hung them on a wall hook.

Then he combed his hair with a pocket comb. When he entered the living-room he found the whole circle: David Krupnick, Leon the Peddler, and Motie the Red were playing cards with Mrs.

Goldsober. Itchele Peltsevizner was playing dominoes with Zilka.

They were all so absorbed that they hardly noticed Koppel's entrance. As he came in he heard Mrs. Goldsober say: "I'll drop out with my kings."

"I'll keep you company," remarked David Krupnick; he was a furniture dealer, reputedly wealthy. A widower, he was partial to Mrs. Goldsober.

"Pass."

"I bet six groszy."

"Raise you ten."

Mrs. Goldsober was sitting at the head of the table, wrapped in a knitted shawl. Her chestnut hair, which had reddish streaks, -323-was combed

back from her forehead. An ornamental comb was stuck on top of her coiffure. She had a rouad forehead, a small nose, and a girlish chin. Her upper lip pouted faintly and showed a mouthful of small white teeth. Her eyebrows were plucked. She had once been a victim of asthma, and ever since she had been in the habit of smoking a particular kind of long thin cigarette that was supposed to clear the bronchial tubes. Now she exhaled small clouds of smoke through her nostrils.

"Well, men," she said, "what have you got?"

"I have nothing but a headache," sighed Motie the Red, a small figure of a man with a pockmarked face and reddish, close-cropped hair.

"Three queens," declared David Krupnick, putting down his hand.

"All right, take it," answered Leon the Peddler, pushing the saucer full of money toward him. "The luck of a thief!"

Mrs. Goldsober turned and saw Koppel. She looked at him with a curious and half-roguish glance. "Why so late?" she asked. "I was beginning to think we'd have to do without you tonight."

Koppel raised his eyebrows. "I suppose you couldn't manage without me?"

"Of course not. Don't you know I'm longing for you all the time?"

"Do you hear what's going on?" Motie the Red shouted, banging his fist on the table. "She's longing for him."

"Oh, it's an old love. Been going on for years," Leon the Peddler remarked.

"Is that the way it is? And here I thought all the time she was in love with me." David Krupnick picked up the deck and began to shuffle the cards.

"You're too lucky at cards," said Mrs. Goldsober.

"What's that piece of goods want of me?" Koppel thought. "She's probably quarreled with Krupnick, or maybe she just wants to be cute." He walked out of the room and in the manner of one perfectly at home, went into the dining-room. He wanted to have a chat with Mrs. Oxenburg, but she was not there. At the head of the table, in an upholstered chair, sat her husband. He was laying out the cards in a game of solitaire. A flask of brandy stood near by.

When Koppel walked in, Oxenburg quickly clutched the bottle, as though to hide it, but when he saw who his visitor was he withdrew his hand.

-

324-"Good evening, Isador."

The other's thin, bluish lips smiled crookedly. "Aren't you playing tonight?"

"What's the good of it? A lot of damn nonsense."

Oxenburg shook his head dolefully. "Ah, he said, "you call that card-playing? Nowadays they play marbles."

"My feeling exactly."

Oxenburg put his hand on the oilcloth-covered table. "What's new in the society? Are you still the first warden?"

"Not even the second."

"Are you on the board?"

"I haven't even that honor."

"What happened? Did they kick you out?"

"Nobody could kick me out."

"A tough guy, eh? You young men are fortunate. You don't take anything seriously. Things were different in my day. The society was then on Stalova Street. It was in the by-laws that we bring food to the Jewish hospital on Chista Avenue. There weren't any trolley cars in those days, only a horsedrawn bus, but we weren't supposed to ride on the Sabbath. We used to pack a basket with white bread, onions with fat, tripe, liver; and we went on foot. It was some walk! The Poles at the bridge used to throw rocks at us.

If we caught one of the bastards, we'd beat hell out of him.

"On Krochmalna Street there was a gang that used to block our way. The first time they tore us to pieces. Our food spilled all over the street. They broke Yossel Batz's rib. I myself got a bump on the forehead. That evening we had a meeting. 'Listen to me.' I said. 'Are we going to be afraid of a few ruffians?' 'But what can we do?' our boys said. 'We're not supposed to use sticks on the Sabbath.' Our rabbi was from Lithuania. His name was Reb Feifke, and he said: 'If there's danger, you can.' Well,' I said, 'if this holy man says so, he knows what he's talking about.' He studied from a volume as big as a table.

"The next Saturday the women walked behind with the food, and we went ahead of them, in small groups. Near Yanash's Court we heard a whistle. I was in front with four other men.

Suddenly the bastards were around us. Their leader was Iche the Blind, a real fighter. The women peddlers had to pay him protection money. 'Well,' Iche says, 'Krochmalna is my precinct.'

'What do you want?' I says. 'We're not here for pleasure, it's for -325-sick

people.' We don't need your Praga charity, he says. 'Get out or I'll break your neck.' And he gave me a punch on the chest. I saw there was no way out, so I lifted up my stick and he got it right on the chin. He was so surprised that he stood there with his eyes popping out. 'Well, babies,' I says, lend me a hand.' The fight began. Our boys gave them what was coming to them. The news spread that Iche the Blind was being slaughtered. There were shoemakers on the Krochmalna who also paid Iche protection money so he wouldn't annoy their women. When they heard that we were giving it to the gang, they, too, came out. There was one cop, but he beat it. To make a long story short, we kicked the guts out of them. From that time on, everyone in Warsaw knew that Isador Oxenburg don't take it lying down."

Oxenburg wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "Maybe you'd like a drink?"

No."

"What's the news with the Moskats? How do you stand over there?"

"What's on my mind is trying to get out of the country and go to America," Koppel answered, hardly understanding why he confided in this drunkard.

Oxenburg's face dropped and he chewed convulsively, as though he were trying to swallow the ends of his mustache. "What for?

You're joking."

"I'm serious."

"What's the matter? Is Warsaw too small for you? What'll you do in America? You've got to slave hard for a living there."

"Where's your wife?" Koppel inquired.

"Who knows? I tell you, brother, here in Warsaw you're a lord.

In America you'll press pants."

Koppel made no answer. He got up and went out of the room. He stood hesitating in the corridor, undecided whether to go inside and join the others or to get out altogether. The drunkard was right, he thought; what would he do in America? He imagined how it would be there, living in a tall building with Leah. Trains would speed by above the roofs; cars thunder by under the ground, crowded with people who all talked English. He'd be wandering about, all alone in a strange world, no children, no friends, no women. Leah would grow old and bad-tempered. Bashele would weep for him for a while and then she would marry that coal dealer on the other side of the street.

-326-He'd be

sleeping in Koppel's bed, and Bashele would be waking him in the morning, telling him: "Chaim Leib, my sweet, the coffee's getting cold."

"Ah, a plague on all the women," Koppel thought. "Double-crossers and whores, all of them."

He suddenly felt mean and helpless, as he used to feel when he was a green, frightened orphan from the provinces, earning a bare two rubles a week. He had been so lonesome in those days that he would go to the prayerhouse early on Saturday and stay there till the Sabbath was over. Later his luck had changed. He had become a member of the congregation, he had got to know Meshulam Moskat, he had married a decent poor girl, had fathered a few nice children, had accumulated some money. What did he have to kick about? Why break up two homes? Where was it written that he had to be Meshulam Moskat's son-in-law?

As he stood with his brooding thoughts in the corridor, the living-room door opened and Mrs. Goldsober came out, her face flushed and smiling. Beneath her shawl he could see a lace-embroidered blouse. From under her pleated skirt the hem of her petticoat protruded. She gazed at him with some surprise. "Look at him. Standing there like a whipped schoolboy."

"You're going home already? So early?"

"Where did you get that idea? I left my asthma cigarettes at home."

For a moment they were both silent. Mrs. Goldsober made a jerky motion with her head. "I'll tell you what," she said at last.

"Keep me company up the stairs."

"Why not?"

They climbed the stairs, Mrs. Goldsober leaning against his shoulder. At her landing she opened the door with a key.

"Come in," she said. "Maybe you have a match."

Inside it was dark, the air heavy with the smell of floor wax. One was conscious of the orderliness of a home where a woman lived alone. Suddenly the widow threw her arms around Koppel's neck and kissed him full on the lips. She smelled of smoke and chocolate. Points of light swam before Koppel's eyes.

"So that's the way it is?" he murmured.

"Yes, that's the way," she answered.

Again she began to kiss him, with the abandon of a woman who had thrown off the last vestige of shame. "What the devil -327-is going on?"

Koppel thought. "This is too good. Something is bound to happen."

3

Mrs. Goldsober tore herself out of Koppel's arms.

"I've got to go down," she said. "God knows what Krupnick will imagine."

"What are you afraid of Krupnick for?"

"I don't want to give him any reason for talk. I'll tell you what.

Come up later. Around eleven o'clock. I just want to show myself there once again."

Koppel thought for a moment. "I'm not hanging around the Oxenburgs' all evening. I'll come back later."

"Where are you going, Koppel? You're a strange one; al-ways full of secrets. I'll tell you what, Koppel. You go down first. If we go in together it'll start them talking right away."

Koppel went downstairs. In the corridor of the Oxenburg flat he stopped to smooth his hair at a wall mirror. Then he went into the living-room. The card game had ended. David Krupnick was talking to Leon the Peddler, who dealt in antiques and jewelry.

Zilka, the Oxenburgs' married daughter, had gone out of the room and the men were left with their stag talk.

"It's a lot of nonsense," Leon the Peddler was saying. 'Every woman has her price." He clutched Krupnick's lapel, as though he were going to confide some secret to him. "Take my case.

Here I am, not young and not handsome. I walk about--may it happen to none of you--with ulcers in my stomach. An operation is what I need. Last week, Wednesday I think it was, I get a telephone call to come up to some gentile house on Rose Alley. They were marrying off a daughter and they wanted some jewelry. I took a couple of samples from Yekel Dreiman and went over there in a droshky. I climbed up the marble steps and rang the bell. A woman opened the door. I took a look at the girl and I tell you I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Tall, blonde, and with a smile enough to give you the shivers. 'Excuse me,' I say, 'are you the bride-to-be?' And she laughs and tells me she's the girl's mother. I tell you, I thought I'd faint. 'Well,' I say, 'I can imagine how the daughter looks if the mother's such a beauty.' She laughs again and tells me that her daughter is out getting fitted at the dressmaker's and -328-that she'll be home soon. And there she was, at home all alone. I forgot all about business. I take out my merchandise. She looks at the stuff, puts it on, and sighs. 'What are you sighing for? I ask her; 'I'll certainly not overcharge you.' Well, one word leads to another and she tells me her whole history. Her husband had squandered everything. The man her daughter was marrying was a Count. They'd have to do things in the proper style, and there wasn't the wherewithal. So I let go with a little joke and say: 'Well, I'm not rich, I'm only the middleman in this transaction.