The World Outside (4 page)

Just then, a woman in a short skirt and high heels rushed out of the shop. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“We’re giving out candles for the Sabbath,” Devorah Leah said.

“Go away!” she cried. “You’ll scare off my customers.”

“We’re in the mall, not your store,” Faygie said, her hands on her hips and defiance on her face. “You can’t tell us what to do if we’re not in your store.”

“I’ll call Security if you don’t go!”

“Go ahead and call them,” I told her in a mild voice. “We’re doing nothing wrong.”

The woman stared at me for a long moment. “All right,” she said finally. “You can stay for a short time, but move farther away from my door. And don’t speak to any of my customers!” She gave us a severe look and went back into the shop. “Remember,” she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be watching you!”

“Good riddance!” Devorah Leah said after she left.

We moved our packages away from the boutique’s entrance and past its window. When we were finished, Faygie said it was time to get to work.

Each of us dipped into the shopping bags and took out a few candles and pamphlets.

A gray-haired lady in a fur jacket and high-heeled boots was heading toward us. Faygie stepped up to her and walked along beside her as she quickened her pace.

“Excuse me, ma’am, are you Jewish?” she asked.

The woman turned her head away and began to walk even faster, quickly leaving Faygie behind.

“I’ll give you candles for Shabbos,” she called after her. “They’re free!”

The woman kept on walking. Faygie shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, well, you can’t win them all,” she said.

Next, a young couple, about our age, came toward us holding hands. The boy wore jeans and a T-shirt with a picture of a guitarist on it. The blonde girl’s miniskirt showed off her long legs.

“Ask her if she’s Jewish,” Devorah Leah whispered. “Go for it, Chanie!”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

With my heart racing, I walked up to the girl and cleared my throat.

“Are you Jewish?” I croaked.

Without warning, the girl flung out her arm, pushing me away. I stumbled backward and knocked against the boutique’s window. I was so shocked that I let myself slide gently to the floor.

“What’s the matter with you, Eleanor?” the boy yelled, yanking on the girl’s hand. “She wasn’t hurting you! She just asked you a question.”

“Stop bothering me!” the girl hissed in my direction. “Let’s go, David,” she said, turning toward the boy. “Unless you want to talk to these freaks?”

“Stop being so rude!” the boy said. “And, yes, I do want to talk to these girls.”

The blonde wrenched her hand out of the boy’s grasp. “In that case, you’ll be talking to them by yourself!”

She flounced off without a backward glance. I could hear her muttering the word “freaks” under her breath. The boy stared after her and shook his head, then came over and squatted down beside me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I shook my shoulders. Everything seemed to be working. “Baruch Hashem, I’m all right.”

“I’m sorry about Eleanor’s behavior.”

He was so close that I couldn’t help noticing how blue his eyes were and how his hair curled around his ears. I closed my own eyes, willing the Evil Inclination to go away, but it stayed with me.

“Your girlfriend has a nasty temper,” Devorah Leah said.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he replied. “Just a friend.”

The Evil Inclination stirred butterflies in my stomach.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” the boy repeated.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Don’t let Eleanor bother you. She has a mean streak.”

“Well, she obviously isn’t Jewish,” I said.

He laughed. “Actually, she is. And so am I. I’m David Goldberg. What’s your name?”

“Chanie Altman.”

I knew I shouldn’t be chatting with a strange boy, but my mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Chanie! What’s got into you?” Faygie whispered.

Devorah Leah was staring at me, her eyes wide.

My parents would have been shocked too if they had seen me. In my world, boys and girls lived separate lives until a matchmaker introduced them shortly before they were married. I rarely spoke to men or boys who weren’t related to me—not much even to Yossi’s friends, although I’d known them a long time.

David stood up and held out his hand to help me off the floor.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. “I-I can’t,” I stammered, shaking my head. “We never …”

His hand dropped to his side.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m not religious. I forgot that you’re forbidden to touch a boy.”

My cheeks felt warm and I scrambled to my feet.

“You’re Lubavitch, aren’t you?” David asked.

“Yes, we’re Chabad from Crown Heights,” said Devorah Leah, then she clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by her own boldness.

Faygie was biting her lower lip, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer.

“I’ve seen other Lubavitcher girls here at the mall, but I’ve never spoken to any before,” David said. “There are some guys downstairs too. They wanted to put tefillin on me.” He laughed sheepishly. “I told them I wasn’t Jewish just to get them to leave me alone.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” I blurted. I didn’t look at him while I spoke, but it still felt odd talking to a strange boy. “They’re trying to help you. Putting on tefillin reminds you of your obligations to Hashem.”

David gave me a curious look. He must have realized by my tone that I meant each word from the bottom of my heart.

“Also, it’s not fair to lie to the boys,” I added. “They spend a lot of time trying to convince Jewish men to put on tefillin. My brother Yossi is with them. Did you meet him?”

“I must have, but I didn’t catch all their names.”

“You should go back and ask them to help you,” Faygie said, adopting the same pious tone she used when quoting our teachers’ lessons.

“Lighten up, Faygie,” I snapped.

“Why should I? I’m right, aren’t I, Devorah Leah?”

“Yes, you are,” Devorah Leah said, rolling her eyes at me behind Faygie’s back.

“What do you think, Chanie? Do you want me to put on tefillin?” David asked, smiling at me.

My heart was in my throat. The greedy hands of the Evil Inclination grabbed hold of me again. I was hot and cold at the same time. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, Chanie, what do you say? Should I go back to your brother and his friends and put on tefillin?”

There was only one answer I could give.

“It’s your duty as a Jew,” I managed to whisper.

“Your wish is my command.”

He bowed and flourished an invisible hat. With a quick grin, he turned on his heel and headed toward the escalator.

“It’s Hashem’s command, not mine!” I yelled after him.

CHAPTER 4

T
he gentle March breezes caressed my face and rustled the bud-filled trees. My winter jacket was too warm, so I unbuttoned it.
I’ll take Moishe for a walk when I get home
, I said to myself. As I passed a haberdasher, his window full of black fedoras, I noticed a sign in his window declaring “Messiah Now!” Next door was a store that sold women’s tights. Just past it, a shop offered religious books and framed photographs of the Rebbe, like the ones we had at home. I stopped for a second in front of a sheitel shop to admire the wide variety of wigs of all styles, colors and prices. This was the most popular shop in all of Crown Heights, for every married Lubavitcher woman wore a wig. When I finally remembered that Moishe was waiting for me at home, I turned away from the display and quickened my steps.

As soon as I turned the corner of my street, I saw a large group of black teenage boys heading toward me
on the sidewalk. They were talking loudly and jostling each other. I crossed to the other side immediately, Mama’s warnings ringing in my ears.

“If you meet any
schvartzers
, just pretend that you don’t see them,” she told me. “Never try talking to the blacks. They’re different from us, especially the young ones. They don’t like us. And we cannot trust them.”

“Shouldn’t I say hello to them? You’re always talking to Mrs. Orville.”

Mrs. Orville was the first black person on our block, and Mama was constantly exchanging news with her over the fence. Nowadays, I saw more and more black faces in our neighborhood, many of them Caribbean Americans.

“That’s different and you know it!” Mama said. She tapped my arm. “Don’t be smart! Just remember what I told you.”

I turned my head away now, but from the corner of my eye, I could still see the boys on the other side of the street. The tallest of them, a young man with a giant Afro, pointed at me and said something to his friends. All of them began hooting and pointing in my direction.

A girl with an ebony complexion happened to be passing me on the sidewalk.

“Ignore those jerks!” she said.

With Mama’s warnings still echoing, I didn’t answer her and dashed away.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help!” she called after me.

I glanced back and stopped when I saw the bewildered look on her face. At that very moment, two fire trucks turned the corner, with lights flashing and sirens at full blare. A city ambulance raced along behind them. All three stopped in the middle of the block, in front of an apartment building directly across the street from our brownstone. Both the black girl and I broke into a run, as did the boys on the other side of the street.

Flames were shooting out of one of the ground-floor windows of the apartment building. A crowd of people—mostly blacks and just a few whites—were standing in front of it. The firemen told the onlookers to move back, then hooked their hoses up to a hydrant. One of them began pouring water through the windows. His colleagues were tramping in and out of the building, carrying axes.

“I hope nobody is hurt,” somebody beside me said. I realized it was the same girl. “I’m Jade,” she said.

I stared at her, uncertain if I should reply, but then she grinned at me. She was one of those people whose smiles reach their eyes.

“I’m Chanie,” I said.

“You live around here?” She spoke with a flat accent I didn’t recognize.

I pointed to my house. “Over there.”

She looked surprised. “So do I. I’m visiting my mother’s sister, Rita Mae Orville. I’m from Boston.”

“So that’s why you’ve got an accent.”

She laughed. “I guess I do.”

“We live next door to the Orvilles.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I met you! Maybe we could hang out sometime. I have so many questions for you. Auntie Rita Mae told me that you are Lubavitchers. Is that why you wear such a long skirt?” She clamped her hand over her lips. “Sorry! I talk too much!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. An African-American girl wanting to spend time with me? Black kids hung out with other black kids, while we Hasidim stayed with our own kind. Mama would never agree to let me be friends with somebody who wasn’t a Lubavitcher. She would never trust this girl—not even if she was Mrs. Orville’s niece.

I was spared from answering by a commotion in the crowd. One of the firemen emerged from the building with a white cat cradled in his arms. A weeping woman ran up and grabbed the frightened animal. She was followed by a man with a little girl gripping his hand. The girl’s eyes were like saucers. When the woman handed the cat to the child, she covered its sooty fur with kisses.

“Everythin’s gone! Everythin’s gone!” the woman cried. “We lost everythin’!”

The man put his arm around her shoulders and tried to console her.

“Could be worse,” said an old lady with cornrows in her hair. “You coulda been burned to a crisp in there.”

“You lucky!” said a man on her left.

The woman cried even harder.

Jade tapped me on the arm. “Somebody is waving to you.”

It was Mama. She was at the back of the crowd, with Baba hanging on to her arm.

I elbowed my way through to them. “What happened?”

Mama shrugged. “There was a fire in her kitchen.” She nodded at the crying woman. “The fire trucks got here quickly, but that poor family lost everything. I think Elliot is their name.”

She stopped talking when the fire chief began shouting through a bullhorn.

“Attention, everybody! The fire has been put out. Fortunately, it didn’t spread to the rest of the building. You may return to your homes.” He lowered the bullhorn and turned to Mrs. Elliot. “Everyone can go back except for you, ma’am,” he said to her. “I’ll let you in to get what you’ll need for the next few days, but you can’t stay there. It’s not safe.”

“Oh Lord, where will we go?” Mrs. Elliot cried.

The woman with the cornrows walked up and took
her hand. They were too far away for me to catch what she was saying, but whatever it was, it helped Mrs. Elliot stop crying. She seemed calm by the time the woman led her into the apartment house.

The rest of the tenants also began to stream into the building.

“Time for us to go home too,” Mama said. She patted Baba’s hand. “You okay, Baba?” She was always so gentle with my grandmother.

Baba nodded, and we all turned and made our way slowly toward our house.