The World Outside (10 page)

I went, taking the wastepaper basket with me.

“And not a word of this to anyone!” she called after me.

“I won’t tell. I promise!”

I went to the bathroom and washed the garbage can before taking it to my own room. I waited there until I heard the taxi driver ring our doorbell. I watched through the window as the cab turned the corner of the street, then I rushed to the kitchen. After filling a pail with water and disinfectant, I gathered several rags and
garbage bags, then pulled on the rubber gloves I wore when I did the dishes. Back in Baba’s room, I emptied out all the drawers and scrubbed them until they smelled fresh and clean. Tears were running down my face, but I kept on working.

When I was done, I hauled the bags of rotting food to the garbage cans in the alley behind our house. Then I returned to Baba’s room, opened her window to let in some fresh air and sat down on her bed, in the same spot where she’d been sitting. I went over everything that had happened. Why would my intelligent, brave baba be hoarding rotting food? Was she losing her mind? How could that be? She was always so wise, so full of good advice.
Please, Hashem, let it be something else!

Suddenly, I remembered that Baba had told me she’d almost starved to death in Auschwitz during the Holocaust. Could it be that she was just keeping her promise to herself to never go hungry again? I didn’t know what to think.

Mama and Baba got home just before dinnertime. The doctor had given Baba pills and told her not to exert herself.

“If she is careful, Baba will be fine. What she needs is a calm life with little excitement,” Mama said. “You’ll have to help your baba a little more.”

“Chanie does enough already,” Baba replied.

She even defended me when Mama became angry because I forgot to put her casserole in the oven. I couldn’t tell her that I had more important things on my mind. My grandmother never again mentioned what happened that afternoon.

A few weeks later, when I knew that she was out of the house, I went to her room and pulled out the drawers of her bureau. Each one was lined with newspaper and filled with neatly folded clothes.

I didn’t tell anybody what I found in Baba’s bureau that day—not Mama, not Papa, not Yossi. Not even David, although I had started meeting him in Prospect Park every Sunday afternoon.

CHAPTER 10

A
s soon as Moishe and I arrived at the park, David began to wave the envelope in his hand like a flag.

“It came! It came!” he cried.

I sank down on our bench, my heart in my throat, my hands trembling. “Is it from …? But it can’t be. I only mailed the application a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes! It’s from Juilliard.” He handed me the envelope. “Open it!”

I gave it back to him and showed him my trembling hands. “You’ll have to. I can’t.”

He tore it open and held the letter out toward me.

I screwed my eyes shut. “You tell me what it says!”

It seemed like an eternity before he began to read.

Moishe started to fuss.

“Wait a minute. Stop reading,” I said.

I gave my brother a cookie and he settled down.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Only the signature is left,” David said. “It says: ‘Yours Sincerely, Evelyn A. Samson, Director of Admissions.’ ”

He handed me the letter.

“Congratulations!” He was beaming from ear to ear.

I skimmed it. The Juilliard logo was at the top of the page. It was real.

“I’m not going,” I said.

“What do you mean? Of course you’ll go!”

“I won’t! It’s a waste of my time.” I pointed to the letter. “They want me to bring my music along. I have no music to bring. I can’t even read music!”

“So tell them that.”

“They won’t take somebody like me seriously.”

“They took you seriously enough to give you an audition, didn’t they?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know why.”

“You don’t have to make up your mind right now, you know,” he said. “The audition isn’t for another six weeks. Accept their offer, and that’ll give you more time to decide what you want to do. You can always cancel at the last minute.”

He was right. I had nothing to gain by turning down the audition right away.

“Okay, I’ll do as you suggest. But I may still decide not to go in the end.” I made my voice as firm as I could.

“That’s your choice,” he said, “but for now, just think about it.”

Before bed that night, I wrote a short note accepting the audition. I stuffed it into the stamped envelope David had once again given me, sealed it and slipped it into my schoolbag. It was the only safe place I could think to hide it.

The next morning, Mama noticed how wan I looked.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, grabbing a bagel. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You’re pale. You’re spreading yourself awfully thin with this school play. If this goes on, maybe you should think about quitting.”

Just then, the phone rang. She turned to answer it, saving me from an argument.

“I have to go over to Devorah Leah’s after school today,” I said to her back. “She wants me to help her again.”

“Just a minute,” she said into the phone. She covered the receiver with her hand. “You may go, but be home by five to give Moishe his dinner.”

As I slipped out of the kitchen, I couldn’t help wondering what the Rebbe would think of me if he heard the lies rolling off my tongue with more and more ease each day. I felt so guilty … but not guilty enough to tell the truth.

Faygie was waiting in front of my house so we could walk to school together. Several other girls joined us along the way.

“I’ll be doing outreach again at the mall on Sunday afternoon,” Faygie said. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I’m busy,” I mumbled.

“Doing what?”

I wondered what she would say if I answered
Meeting David in Prospect Park, like I do every Sunday afternoon
.

“I just have to take care of Moishe,” I said instead. “Mama won’t be home.”

“I’ll go with you, Faygie!” offered Hannah, a girl in our class.

Two other girls also volunteered, so Faygie lost interest in me.

I could see the mailbox at the corner of the street leading to the school.

I will not mail the letter, I will not mail the letter
, I kept repeating silently to the rhythm of the pounding of my shoes on the pavement.

I will not mail the letter, I will not mail the letter
, I said to myself as I joked with my friends.

I will not mail the letter, I will not mail the letter
, I promised myself as I listened to their chatter.

We passed the mailbox and turned the corner, and suddenly my feet were rooted to the sidewalk.

“What’s the matter, Chanie?” Faygie asked.

“I just remembered that Mama asked me to mail a letter for her. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

I ran back to the mailbox and, without giving myself a chance to think, slid the letter through the slot.

I forgot about the Juilliard audition in the excitement over the play at school. We gave three performances on consecutive nights, singing and dancing and making dramatic speeches. The gym was bursting with our female relatives and friends. Everybody praised the scenery we’d painted. The women and girls in the audience clapped and clapped and gave us a standing ovation. Even Mama got to her feet and cheered.

“That was so much fun,” Faygie said. “I wish it wasn’t over.”

Devorah Leah, still basking in her curtain call, pirouetted. “I wish I could really dance!” she cried.

Will I ever be able to really sing?
I asked myself.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day and the shattering of my dream.

“Chanie Altman, I’d like to speak to you. Can you stay behind for a moment?” asked Mrs. Weiss.

“You go ahead. You don’t want to keep Jade waiting,” I whispered to Devorah Leah, whose desk was next to mine. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Okay. We’ll order pizza for you.”

The three of us had arranged to meet at Yoni’s Yummi Pizza Parlor. As I expected, Jade and Devorah Leah had become fast friends.

I put my books into my bag and waited. When the classroom had emptied, Mrs. Weiss walked over to Devorah Leah’s desk and sat down on top of it.

“What’s going on with you, Chanie?” she asked in a serious tone. “You’re constantly daydreaming. You’re not paying attention in class. I can see that your mind is a million miles away.”

Only a train ride away
, I thought. The words were in my mouth, but I didn’t say them, even though Mrs. Weiss had been my
mashpiah
for a long time and always gave me good advice. I was worried that she might tell my parents about David and about Juilliard if I confided in her.

“Everything is fine,” I mumbled.

“You’re my best student, Chanie, but your last book report …” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you
would hand in such poor work to me. I expect more of you.”

“I wrote what I thought you wanted to hear, Mrs. Weiss. But to be honest, I really didn’t like
Malka’s Way
. In fact, I thought it was a terrible book.”

She sat up straighter. “Why?”

“All the author wants to do is teach us the lesson that modesty is an important virtue in Hasidic women. In my opinion, she presents her ideas in a clumsy way.”

Mrs. Weiss grinned. “She is rather heavy-handed, isn’t she? But I wish you had put that in your report instead of just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear.”

She handed the book report to me. There was a big red D on top of it. The lowest mark I had ever received from her before was an A–.

“Oh, no!”

“Unfortunately, your mark must reflect what you gave me. Next time, be honest.”

If this was the time for honesty, I decided to seize it.

“Okay, then. I find that most of the books we’ve studied aren’t good literature. They’re just an excuse to teach us Hasidic values. But we’re already learning that in our other classes. Why can’t we read more secular books? The few we’re allowed to have, like
Treasure Island
, are suitable for younger kids but not for us. Can’t we read something more appropriate for girls our age?”

Mrs. Weiss stood up and sighed. “The Rebbe doesn’t want young minds polluted,” she said firmly. It was as if a curtain had descended over her eyes. “The Rebbe knows what’s best for us, Chanie. We do not question his choices.”

Devorah Leah moved over as I slid along the bench beside her.

“Everything okay?” Jade asked when she saw my face.

“Mrs. Weiss wanted to talk about my book report.” I showed it to them.

“Oh, no!” Devorah Leah wailed. “I thought she liked you!”