The Willow Tree: A Novel (19 page)

They continued to stroll through the park, each within themselves yet so aware of each other and the day, the sun, the sky, the people, the sounds, the birds and the grass. They were quiet on the ride back, each keeping the day alive in their own way, re-experiencing the joy as much and as deeply as possible.

They were quiet as they ate that night, very few words passing between them, still locked in their reverie. When they finished they both leaned back in their chairs, looking at each other occasionally and grinning, until Bobby got up and said he was going to bed, I be beat Mush. All that fresh air and grass be making me nod out—grinning and giggling—an I aint never been to no Brooklyn before…man, that takes a lot out a little ol Bronx boy—both of them smiling and chuckling, Moishe feeling a contentment and joy he hadnt felt in a long time—an I gotta be workin out real hard tomorrow…got to get strong as you Mush, so I be rowin that muthafucka…got to be gettin strong Mush—Bobby suddenly looking reflective, the smile and joy totally gone from his face—I got to be makin them pay…theys the ones killed Maria…she be dead…dead Mush an they got to be payin for that…an I be seein they do—looking down at the floor, nodding in affirmation to his inner voice, reaffirming his conviction and commitment—got to be seein they pay for it…thas my job…yeah, that be my job—still looking at the floor and nodding his head as he turned and went to the bedroom.

Moishe died a thousand deaths as he listened to Bobby and saw the change on his face, saw, and heard, the conviction in his voice, feeling an endless flow of tears hammering at his eyes as he watched Bobby leave the room, staring at the doorway long after Bobby had left, the empty doorway seeming to have some sort of substance, a message…an omen that Moishe could clearly see but was unable to accept…or believe….The thought passed through his mind that he should get up and go to the living room and sit in his chair and maybe the cat would jump up on his lap and he could lose himself in petting her; or a bowl of ice cream might soothe him or even washing the dishes might help him forget his pain, he could clean up the kitchen, tidy up a little…scrub the sink…something, but he could only sit at the table immobilized by the twisting pain and sense of betrayal…betrayal not by Bobby, but himself for allowing Bobby to fill his heart and to once again find happiness in another human being…betrayed by his memories…betrayed by his need to hope he could change Bobbys mind. How could he allow this to happen???? O God—holding his head—How could he allow this to happen???? He sat holding his head, staring at the table, feeling the kitchen getting smaller and smaller until he suddenly lifted his head and looked around and decided to go out. He left a note for Bobby in case he woke up and wondered where he was, and quietly left the apartment.

The sky was clear, the moon bright, the light in the distance eerie, a strange pink glow in the sky almost like distant fires. He roamed around the endless area of desertion and abandonment, the blocks upon blocks of rubble, feeling the hard and gritty debris under his feet that was so different from the grass he had been walking on such a short time before. He heard shards of glass splinter and occasionally crack sounding like a gunshot, and in time he sat on a pile of bricks in the shadow of a crumbling wall…almost convulsing as ancient groans ground through his body, screams of pain, desperation and despair, the heavy, leaden blackness within and without and the paralyzing stench of death, the suffocating agony of living—his body jerked spastically and he wrapped his arms around his head, NO NO!!!! AHHHRRRR

                   
the first hideous, endless night in the camp they stood in the leaden air on ground screaming with the torturous tortured voices of those who had preceded them, stood through the leaden day into the leaden, interminable night when suddenly floodlights stabbed their eyes as had the sun, and the putrid, befouled men struggled to stay erect less they be beaten and tossed into a ditch and set on fire as had others, their screams twisting into their brains and scraping the inside of their skulls throughout the night, the screams that would haunt and torment them in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days all through the remainder of their days on earth and perhaps eternity….

                   Moishe was bent over so far, as he sat on the pile of bricks, that he was almost a ball…Ya, the first night ended and so many more nights, and days, yet to live. Achhhh—Moishe stood and looked up at the sky, able to see only an occasional star and the lights of a few aircraft. The battered and decaying buildings looked eerie in the light from the street lamps, desolate silhouettes in the darkness. Shadows animated the garbage and debris tilling the streets and empty lots. The silence leaden, broken occasionally by the squealing of a rat or screech of a cat. There was nothing he could do. Bobby was here so Moishe had to help…he had to do what he had to do. And thats to suffer? Is that what Im supposed to do? Sit and watch hate eat up so young a life…again…as I have over and over? O what is this all about? O whats the use. There is never an answer…only questions…questions…but always we do what we do—Moishe shook his head and started back to the entrance to the cellars.

Bobby spent as much time as possible exercising and working out. He knew exactly where the tension had been set for Moishe and was determined to be able to do at least 25 at that setting and 50 pushups real fast, justlikethat, before going after the spics. His body was tense with anticipation, his mind with impatience, but he knew hed be wasted if he didnt get in shape, so he tugged and yanked at the oars, and exercised his arms and legs.

Bobby finished working out, showered and was sitting at the kitchen table, Moishe bringing 2 bowls of ice cream and chocolate sauce. Moishe forced himself to keep smiling through his pain and conflict, finding such joy in the way Bobby closed his eyes from time to time as he ate the ice cream, licking his lips and, hmmmmming, eventually to clean the bowl with his finger and licking it.

Moishe leaned forward and scrutinized Bobbys face, Youre looking like new, even the bruises almost all gone.

You mean I be pretty jus like before?

Pretty?—Moishe shrugged and smiled a real smile—This Im not saying.

They smiled at each other for a moment, then went back to eating their ice cream. When he finished Bobby leaned back in his chair and looked over Moishes head for a moment

An you be in the constration camp four years?

Ya…more.

Bobby shook his head, Damn, that sure be a muthafucka.—Bobby looked at his bowl for a moment, then raised his eyes, You goin in there a German an comes out a jew…damn.

Moishe nodded his head.

Dont seem to me they be doin you no favor makin you a jew Mush. Firs you caint move your arms then they starve your ass.—shaking his head and chuckling—But you really be talkin to them jews after that, eh?

Ya, ya. No longer I stay in the corner hating them…not talking. Im a—smiling—brother…a family.

But you still got them Germans to hate, right Mush?

The guards…the Nazis…and Klaus, always I hate Klaus, ya…O ya, I still hate, Bobby, and its killing me.

Seem like them muthafuckas aint given no hate a chance to be killin ya the way they be beaten and starvin your ass.

Moishes smile was soft and filled with understanding, Ya thats what Im saying, but I learn the hate was truly the killer.

Sheeit, hate be keepin your ass alive bro, you be hatin strong enough you keep movin, you keep breathin, you keep livin so long you can be hatin, no way uh uh, no way you be makin it in this muthafuckin world you aint hatin somethin…somebody…uh uh, no fuckin way.

A thousand lifetimes of pain passed through Moishes mind and heart, the million memories of shattered dreams, decimated hopes, a thousand and one disappointments in a day twisted and ravaged his tortured body and soul, each and every cell of his being screaming with tortured memories…and a sadness so profound for a moment it felt as if he would sink right through the floor into the bowels of the earth that gave him birth…not because he identified with what Bobby was saying, it was not only the words, the feelings, the broken and busted dreams they represented, but the lack of anger behind them…their simple calmness, acceptance, something so simple it had long ago been accepted as an immutable truth in the very marrow of Bobbys bones, it had been said with the same emotion and ready recognition as if he were saying you stop on red and go on green, and for that startled moment in time Moishe felt as if he were dying and any moment he would be able to leave his body, but almost instantly he was back at the table, experiencing a lifetime of torment and he had to lick his lips and swallow many times as he looked at Bobby who was still smiling as if nothing startling had occurred, as if the world hadnt suddenly ceased to be for a moment and they both hung, suspended but animated, in an eternal and agonizing purgatory, but now they were both at the table and Moishe struggled to return Bobbys smile….Ya—nodding his head—Ya, is true. Hate makes the muscles bulge…can survive almost anything…ya….But Bobby…in the end Bobby we dont survive our hate—closing his eyes for a moment so his past could quickly pass—We the Bobby…even while we stay alive we/re dying.

Bobby shrugged, I aint seein that Mush—Bobby frowned and looked at Moishe, hard, in the eyes for a few moments—You aint hatin Mush? Tell me straight Mush, you aint be hatin those muthafuckas.

Moishe looked as deeply as possible into Bobbys eyes, Is true Bobby, Im not hating now.

Bobby continued to stare for a moment….You jus up an stop hatin them muthafuckas?

Moishe shook his head and smiled, No way. I hate so much I got muscles in my gut—and he laughed and Bobby looked at him for a moment, then laughed too. Moishe stopped, took a deep breath, Is there a man named Sol. Im standing, arms stiff…just standing….Some are warming old man, others warming me. So…Im standing there in the middle of the barracks, arms stiff, like so…and I start to shake, and then a man is hugging me…ya, just like that hes hugging me…and then someone is putting around me blankets and the man keeps hugging and pushing gently on my arms and I can still feel the scratch of the blankets and the warmth of this man as hes hugging me and somehow the pain isnt killing me though Im feeling like Im going to crack….Ya, like Im cracking like piece of ice into little pieces but soon Im still…and warm, and he steps back and looks at me as he keeps on my shoulders his hands. And so, like that we/re standing until he helps me walk to his bunk and we/re sitting—Moishes voice trailed off and Bobby continued staring at him, blinking his eyes from time to time, almost saying something several times, but nothing coming out of his mouth, so they sat in silence for a few minutes until Moishe started speaking again, So then he talks to me, and—Moishe smiles and spreads his hands—and we talk for years.

An you still here—Bobbys voice filled with amazement and admiration.

Ya…still here—Moishe smiled at Bobby for a moment, then obviously came to a sudden decision, So, you want to get strong…okay. Youre getting dressed and we go to the store.

Where we goin?

We/re gettin some dumbells.

Dumbells? How we be gettinem back here?

The red wagon, ya? Is carrying one dumbell can carry more.

Mush, its them jokes gonna be killin your ass…sheeit.

When they got back with the weights Bobby started playing with them and Moishe laughed and showed Bobby how to use them, demonstrating the exercises, Bobby once again amazed at how strong Moishe was when he tried to do the same exercise as effortlessly as Moishe and had to struggle. Moishe reassured him when he saw how much it upset Bobby to be having so much trouble, Youre still weak and not used to exercise. Soon youre lifting like paperweights, ya?

Right the fuck on Mush….And soon I be liftin those spics heads like the piece of shit they are—instantly Moishe experiencing the ripping in his heart and sudden lack of breath. He continued to watch Bobby for a few minutes, not certain he was really seeing him, then left him alone to continue the workout and found the cat and sat in his chair, the cat on his lap, but it was restless and jumped down as soon as Moishe let it go. Moishe watched it for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair for a moment wondering if he would ever be free of pain, wondering yet again why Bobby came into his life when he expected these final years to be peaceful and free of the conflict and pain that seemed to haunt him all his life, the agony that always came when he thought he had suffered enough.

But that thing that he could never see, that wonderful thing of love he found within himself, always answered his questions long before he asked them, but in a way he could never anticipate. But he did trust that thing…absolutely. Yes. He trusted it. And so when he saw how much Bobby had accepted hate as a necessary part of life he realized, in his gut, (or was it his heart???) that he had to help Bobby become strong, to give him what he had. Wasnt that the answer Sol had given him, and this thing inside him constantly reaffirmed, to share whatever I have. Bobby needs to be strengthened in his body and Moishe knows how to do that…so I do that. Is this different? It cant be. Somebody needs something I have so I give it….But why this???? How do I know why? I dont ask. Why? WHY? Its always, eventually, unanswerable, and the more I ask the deeper I go into madness. Why I dont need, just how. So I help him get back the strength he needs to kill young boys, O Werner…young? Are they ever young on these streets Werner? Was anyone young in the camps? Young. Is it young to not even question hate? To accept it like breathing? Werner, stop analyzing. Please, no more madness. Simply allow your heart to be open. Dont defend yourself against the pain of loving this boy and having him torn from your life as has happened in the past…especially with Karl-Heinz…o god…our little Heinz. How could he survive those years of hell and then when…let your heart embrace this boy, fully and totally. Give him all of it. Dont defend against the pain Werner. If it comes it comes. But if it comes let it come in its own time…not now….O Werner, what madness. You couldnt close your heart if you wanted to. Already its as if youve known him all your life. Hes in your heart and soul…in every cell of your body…in your genes Werner, in your genes. Dont defend against the pain. If it comes it comes. If it does youll have the answer. You know that. You always have the answer. Do as you do. How many years now Werner? Should we count?—Moishe smiling and shaking his head—Heart and arms open Werner…always, heart and arms open…and Moishe opened his eyes as he became aware of something tapping his ankle and the sound of meowing, and he looked down at the cat, smiled and tapped his lap, Come on—and the cat jumped up on his lap and spent a few minutes kneading, then turned in a circle a few times before snuggling into Moishes lap in a tight ball, tail wrapped alongside its body, one paw over its eyes, sighing softly, contentedly, and going to sleep as Moishe rubbed its head and behind its ears. Moishe continued to pet the cat, smiling at its purring, and continuing to smile as he also heard Bobby struggling with the weights.