The Family Moskat (80 page)

"I must give you credit for one virtue: you're a consistent reactionary. I guess that's really why I like you. Socialism will wipe it all away--chauvinism, poverty, middle-class philosophy.

In a certain sense people like you are useful. You help dig the grave for capitalism."

Barbara got down from the window sill. They began to climb the last flight of stairs.

2

When the two stood before the door of the studio, Asa Heshel suddenly became frightened by his utter stupidity. People did not walk into homes in the middle of the night--not to speak of breaking into the house of a sick person; and with a stranger at that. During all the period Abram had been ill Asa Heshel had -527-not once been to see him. He had postponed visiting him from one day to the next. He had a distaste for seeing the changes that Abram's heart attack had brought on him, or hearing his resigned remarks. He had always had an aversion to doctors, medicines, funerals, all the people one meets in hospitals and at cemeteries, who seem to entertain a hidden glee over the misfortunes of others.

In recent days he had gone about in a sort of fog; he had answered no mail, forgotten to pay bills, walked around with his pockets stuffed with neglected papers. He had borrowed some money from the loan organization of the Teacher's Association, and the time had come to pay the first installment, but he did not have the necessary fifty zlotys. The last days of the winter vacation were already here, and it was high time to start preparing his lessons for the resumption of classes. He was weeks behind with the money for Adele, and he neither called her nor went to see David. He even avoided his mother and Dinah. Now he realized that this business of breaking in on Abram would simply embroil him in a new net of complications. Hadassah would learn whom it was he was going about with. There would be more excited gossip among the family. They would find out about it in the school. For a moment he was ready to tell Barbara that they would have to turn around and leave. But he was too exhausted. What difference did anything make now? Let happen what would. He pressed the doorbell. For what seemed a long time there was no sound from the other side of the door. Then they heard footsteps. The door opened. At the threshold stood Avigdor, Abram's older son-in-law, Bella's husband. Apparently he had not yet gone to sleep. He wore a three-quarter gaberdine and a small skullcap. His wide-boned face was milk-white. His pale eyes peered with short-sighted astonishment from behind the lenses of his glasses.

"Good evening. You probably don't recognize me," Asa Heshel said.

"I recognize you. You're Asa Heshel. Why are you standing at the door? Come in. Sholem aleichem."

"Thank you. A late visit, eh? It's an unusual situation. . . .

This lady is Miss Fishelsohn."

"Good evening. My father-in-law has been asking about you all the time, wondering why you haven't been to see him. Your wife is here every day. He refuses to listen to the slightest word -528-against you.

When he takes a fancy to anyone, he stays that way to the end."

"How is he?"

"Not too well. But you know him. He doesn't give up so easy.

He's sleeping now. He's been a little better, but the dan-ger's not over. Someone's got to be with him all the time. Tonight's my watch. Last night Stepha's husband was here. What's happened?

Why are you carrying valises?"

"You probably heard that they arrested Hertz Yanovar."

"They let him go already."

"Yes, but he gave them everybody's names and addresses. I found out that they're after me to arrest me."

"You? What for? What sort of nonsense is that? The trouble is that there's no place to sleep here. My father-in-law is on the big bed, and I manage on the cot near him. To tell you the truth, I can't fall asleep anyway. I keep thinking all kinds of things.

Well, we men will make out somehow. The lady will have to try to sleep in a chair."

"Oh, thank you, but I'm not sleepy," Barbara said in Polish. "The whole thing is a misunderstanding. They have absolutely nothing against me."

"Of course, my dear lady, but once they get you into their clutches it's bad. The best thing is to have nothing to do with them. I'll make some tea."

"Oh, please don't bother."

"It's nothing at all. You put on the kettle and the gas stove does the rest. Well, come inside. I'm not afraid. Let them arrest me.

Just let them take care of my family and I could stand their jails."

The studio was a scene of confusion. Canvases were strewn about. Books, papers, and magazines lay around. Through the dusty, cracked panes of the skylight could be seen patches of snow and gaps of the night sky. In the middle of the room stood an iron stove with crooked pipes stretching away from it. Towels hung on them, drying. Avigdor went into the kitchen and soon returned.

"I put on the tea," he said. "If you'd like something to eat, there's some bread and butter. Tell me, what's the news? In the world of business things aren't good. I know a Jew over on Nalevki Street, and he says that with us it's like the worshippers at the Eighteen Benedictions; one goes out first, and another gets -529-through later--but all of us have to go out sooner or later." "You have a store?" Asa Heshel asked.

"What do you mean, store? One lives from hand to mouth. I wanted to go to Palestine, but they wouldn't give me a certificate. You have to belong to a party. If not, you're not a human being. They say that the rabbi of Ger is going to settle in Palestine. The Bialodrevna rabbi is opposed to the whole idea.

Not so much the rabbi as Reb Moshe Gabriel. The old generation knows only one thing: Messiah will come. God knows, he's taking his time."

"Do you go to the Bialodrevna prayerhouse?" Asa Heshel asked, just to say something.

"Every day. Sometimes in the morning and sometimes in the afternoon. Wait, the tea must be boiled already." He hurried out of the room.

Barbara smiled at Asa Heshel. "A very curious little man," she said.

"He's not so curious at all," Asa Heshel replied. "People like him are the backbone of the Jews."

"Another one of your exaggerations. What is he? A little storekeeper. Nobody."

"In your eyes, maybe. Not in mine. It's these little nobodies who for two thousand years have carried all of Jewry on their backs--

as well as all of Christendom. It is they who have always turned the other cheek."

"For whose sake should one turn the other cheek? Mussolini's?"

"I don't say one should. I'm not a Christian."

"Neither are you a Jew."

At that moment from the other room they heard a wheezing, a snorting, and a heavy footfall. The floor squeaked. Asa Heshel and Barbara raised their eyes. The door to the bedroom was thrown open, and at the threshold stood Abram.

3

Asa Heshel had thought that Abram's illness would leave him emaciated, but he was even heavier than before. His round belly and broad hairy chest were visible under his unbuttoned bathrobe. His face was red. The hair around his bald spot was unkempt. He stood and looked at Asa Heshel and Barbara out of -530-his big black

eyes, which had not yet lost their luster. His fleshy forehead, over the bushy brows, had a crooked crease running across it. Barbara looked at him in astonishment. He reminded her of the satyrs in the windows of antique shops.

It was a while before Asa Heshel was able to speak. "You got out of bed?" he asked. "Were you sleeping?"

"Yes, it's me--the dead man," Abram answered in an altered voice.

"Make your confession, I have come back to choke you."

Avigdor came in from the kitchen with two glasses of tea. When he saw Abram, he took a step backward. The glasses shook in their saucers. "Father-in-law! What's the matter with you? You aren't allowed to get out of bed."

"I've done many things that aren't allowed," Abram answered harshly. "One more sin . . ."

"Father-in-law, you're killing yourself. If Mintz knew, he'd be furious."

"Let him be. These quacks are no help, anyhow."

Asa Heshel got up and placed a chair for Abram at the table.

Abram took a step in his worn-out slippers. He tried to ease himself into the chair slowly, but collapsed into it. He clutched at his breast. "I could manage to stand anything. The only trouble is my legs don't want to keep carrying me any more. The load's too heavy."

"I'm sorry we woke you up. Something happened suddenly and--"

"You didn't wake me. I sleep enough. I hibernate, like a bear in a cave. I heard your sweet voice, so I came out. So you came at last, did you? Blessed be the guest."

"This is Pan Abram Shapiro. And this is Panna Barbara Fishelsohn. A peculiar visit, eh?"

"I'm honored to know you. Nothing in the world's peculiar.

What induced you to visit me? You ought to be ashamed of yourself for having kept away."

"I
am
ashamed. You know the story with Hertz Yanovar. He gave them everybody's names. The police are looking for me."

"They're looking for me, too. Just ask my son-in-law. A police investigator was around here. They suspect me of some robbery or other. I'm lucky that I'm a sick man. Anyway, what are you afraid of? You're as much a Communist as I am a thief."

"But they keep you in jail for two weeks just the same." "If you run away they'll keep you in jail for two years. Go -531-over to

Breitman, the lawyer. He's a pal of mine. So far as I'm concerned, brother, I've got one foot in the grave already. Once I had it in mind to leave you a fortune in my will, but now I'm afraid you'll have to finance the cemetery plot for me. Well, as long as you're here you're here. Tell me, miss, are you a Warsovian?" He turned to Barbara and addressed the question to her in Polish.

"Yes, but I've just come back from abroad."

"There are two Fishelsohn families I know about. One is in the piece-goods business and the other deals in leather. Which category do you belong to?"

Barbara bit her lip in embarrassment. "To neither, I'm afraid."

"Not, God forbid, a Litvak?"

"God forbid!"

"Once I knew the genealogy of all Warsaw. Now I've lost track.

There's a proverb: 'Family prestige is in the cemetery.'"

"Father-in-law, now that you're up, maybe you'll take your medicine," Avigdor said.

"What difference does it make? It's as much help as cupping a corpse. You must be tired, no?" He turned to Asa Heshel and Barbara. "Where shall I put you up? We don't even have bed linen."

"Thanks a lot," Barbara answered. "If you don't mind, I'll just sit here for the night."

"Why should I mind? Once I was a gallant--I would sleep on the floor and give my bed to a lady, but now it's too late even for that. I haven't got the strength any more. Where did you get such burning eyes? They could shoot out sparks."

"It's possible that I have burning eyes, but I hate such eyes."

"Heh? Why? I try to compliment her, and it turns out it's just the opposite. The eyes are supposed to be the mirror of the soul.

Jewish eyes are famous for their fire. The gentiles are afraid that we may burn them. Forgive me, Asa Heshel, but the gentiles'

blue eyes are as cool and watery as their heads. Maybe that's the reason you're so heartless."

"Father-in-law, here's your medicine; may it cure you! "

Abram drank from the spoon and grimaced. A few drops fell on his beard. "Phooey! Thank you. Where have you been abroad?"

"In France."

" Paris, eh? I was there once. A long time ago. A gay city, -532—

hu-ha! They're not such beauties, but the women have something about 'em. Chic.
Comme ci comme ħa, oh la-la.
And the Paris pickpockets know their trade, too. They cut the pockets right out of my coat. I went up to the top of the Eiffel Tower and saw all of Paris as though on the palm of my hand. And the what-do-you-call-it, Notre-Dame, and the Place
de la Concorde.

You get hot sausages and mustard there. Well, anyway. Tell me, do they let Jews live in peace there?"

"The reactionaries stir up trouble against all the minorities."

"There too? Here in Poland it's bitter as gall. The whole world's got together to suffocate us. These days I've got time to read the newspapers. They all have the same theme-Jews, Jews. Jews are all Bolsheviks, bankers, Masons, Wall Street speculators. All the sins of the world they ascribe to us. The others are all pure white spotless lambs. Trotsky, Rothschild, and the rabbi of Ger all sit down to eat Sabbath pudding together. The Elders of Zion spend all their time in some cave figuring out ways to destroy the world. And that Hitler is a vicious beast. If, God forbid, he gets in power, then it'll really be bad."

"You'll excuse me, but the capitalists are doing all they can to make sure that he gets the power in Germany. The Jewish capitalists included," Barbara said.

"Oh! Just the same as the anti-Semites put the blame for everything on the Jew, that's the way you Leftists put all the blame for everything on the capitalists. There's always got to be a sacrificial goat. I'm far from being a bourgeois; if I stay sick a little bit longer there won't be enough money left to buy me a shroud. Just the same, I can't abide nonsense. What does the capitalist do that's so bad? He buys and sells."

"Then, according to your opinion, who's to blame for the present crisis?"

"Human nature. You can call a man capitalist, Bolshevik, Jew,
goy
, Tartar, Turk, anything you want, but the real truth is that man is a stinker. If you beat him he yells. And if the other fellow is beaten, then he develops a theory. Maybe it'll be better in the next world. Come into the bedroom with me for a while, Asa Heshel.

Miss Barbara will excuse us."

Abram grasped the sides of the chair with both hands and grimaced as though he were suffering an intense pain in his bowels. Asa Heshel helped him up. Abram took a few steps and -533-then halted.

He took a handkerchief from the pocket of his robe and wiped the perspiration from his face. In the bedroom vials and bottles and boxes of pills were strewn on a chair, and unwashed plates and glasses stood about. There were books and papers everywhere. Abram carefully deposited his bulk on the bed, leaning back against the three pillows at the head.