Authors: Eva Wiseman
I was shocked by her tone, for she rarely raised her voice.
“But, Mama—”
“You obviously have too much time on your hands, Chanie. Why don’t you spend more of it studying the Chumash? I rarely see you with it in your hands.”
“We study the Chumash at school.”
“You should be studying it at home too.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her when I should do this extra studying. While I was helping her prepare dinner? While I was taking care of Moishe? While I was walking to school? There weren’t enough
hours in the day for everything I had to do. But one look at her furious expression rendered me silent.
She slapped the footboard again. “I want to see you dressed and downstairs in ten minutes!”
The door slammed shut behind her. I lay down again, but only for a minute. Nobody knew better than me that if Mama asked you to do something, she expected it done at once. I jumped out of bed and began to pull on my clothes.
A few minutes later, I was on my way to Goldblatt’s Fruits and Vegetables on Kingston Avenue. Goldblatt’s sold the freshest produce in all of Crown Heights—at least that was what the hand-printed sign in the shop’s window said.
Despite the earliness of the hour, the shop was filled with people waiting to be served by Mr. Goldblatt and his wife, Sara. Everybody seemed happy to get out of the house after celebrating the sanctity of Shabbos. Matrons with baskets over their arms stood next to young husbands in black suits and hats. Modestly dressed young mothers in stylish sheitels were cuddling their babies. Several of the men were pushing young children in strollers. Girls like me, dressed in long skirts and crisp blouses, were chatting with their friends. Devorah Leah was among them. She left the line and ran up to me.
“Chanie, what are you doing here? I came to pick up some potatoes for today’s lunch.”
“Mama asked me to buy apples. She wants to bake a pie before she goes into the City this afternoon.”
“That’s not fair. She’s gone so much and you have to do everything, in addition to taking care of Moishe.”
“You help your mother too.”
“Not like you.”
I shrugged. “I’m used to it. I just wish she would take me with her to the opera once in a while. I told her that I wanted to go, but she got mad at me. She won’t even talk about music with me. Won’t answer my questions about
Rigoletto
.”
“What’s
Rigoletto
?”
“It’s an opera she keeps listening to. It’s about a person called Rigoletto. His songs are so beautiful, they almost break your heart. But he’s so sad—you can hear it in his singing. I asked Mama why he was so unhappy, but she wouldn’t even tell me that.” I shook my head. “It was stupid of me to ask her to take me to the City with her. I should know by now that she won’t.”
“Oh, you and your music! Forget about an old opera guy!” Devorah Leah leaned closer. “Come over to my house this afternoon. Papa is going to one of the Rebbe’s
farbrengens
, and the boys have an extra session at their yeshiva. And Mama will be babysitting at Goldie’s house. So the coast will be clear and we can watch
Roseanne
!”
“I’ll come, but only if Papa is home. Somebody has to watch Moishe.”
“Watch Moishe—why?” asked a male voice behind me.
I spun around. It was David. The morning sun streaming through the shop’s windows burnished his hair.
“What are you doing here?!”
He laughed. “I was on my way to your house, actually. But when I saw all this fruit in the window,”—he pointed to a display of luscious apples and grapes—“my stomach growled, so I decided to come in. I’m going to buy an apple. I’m even going to get one for Yossi!”
“You and Yossi are certainly getting chummy,” I said.
“Oh, we are! We’re learning the Tanya together, and Yossi also wants me to become familiar with your Rebbe’s writings.” He grinned at me. “But I have a confession to make. I actually accepted Yossi’s invitation because it gave me a chance to see you again.”
I heard the sound of Devorah Leah’s indrawn breath. A woman in front of us gave us a disapproving look. I was glad she wasn’t one of our neighbors.
“Hush!” I told David. “Keep your voice down!”
He stepped closer. I could feel his breath on my face. His boy smell filled my nostrils. I stepped back.
“Go away!” I whispered.
“I’ll go,” he said, “but only if you promise to meet me later.”
“Do you want to get me in trouble?”
“I only want to talk to you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I looked around. Nobody seemed to have heard him except Devorah Leah, who was staring at us with her mouth open.
“Please?” David said. “Just to talk.”
He sounded so sincere that I found myself nodding.
“All right. But only this once. I’ll take Moishe to Prospect Park this afternoon around four. Wait for us at the entrance near the library. With luck, nobody will see us there. Now go away or I won’t come!”
I followed him out of the store with my eyes. As soon as he was gone, Devorah Leah grabbed my arm.
“Oh, Chanie! I didn’t think you … I mean, I thought you …”
“You think too much, Devorah Leah. I’m only meeting him to tell him to leave me alone.”
She winked at me. “Sure you are.”
“I am!”
She grinned. “Oh, this is so much more exciting than watching
Roseanne
!”
At ten to four, I was pushing Moishe’s wheelchair down Eastern Parkway. We stopped for a moment in front of 770, and I pointed out the windows of the Rebbe’s office and the mitzvah tanks parked out front. We arrived at the park a few minutes later and stopped at a bench in the shade of a giant tree. It was completely silent except for the chirping of a bird on a high branch. There was
no sign of David. Moishe was blinking in the sunlight, so I turned his wheelchair around until his face was in the shade. I sat down on the bench, careful to smooth my long black skirt beneath me, for it was my Shabbos best. I was also wearing my prettiest white blouse.
I took the water bottle I always carried in the pocket of Moishe’s wheelchair and held it up to his lips. I also gave him the cookie I’d brought from home. Once he finished his snack, though, he became restless, waving his arms about and gurgling in an agitated manner. “A … A … A …” he cried. I wiped the spittle off his chin and removed his warm black jacket. It didn’t help. He began rocking back and forth, back and forth, and became noisier than before.
My watch showed that David was fifteen minutes late. “I guess he isn’t coming,” I said to Moishe. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or relieved.”
My brother stared at me and grunted, as if he understood what I was saying.
“Let’s wait just a little longer.” I kissed Moishe’s cheek and put my hands on his shoulders. He began to rock even more violently. “Stop rocking! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I didn’t know what to do. Usually, the sound of my voice soothed him, so I began to sing the oldest Chabad melody of all, “Ribono Shel Olom.”
First, I sang it in Yiddish, the language of the Lubavitcher people:
“ ‘Ribono shel olom, Ribono shel olom, du bist doch unzer foter, un mir zainen daine kinder.’ ”
I followed the Yiddish with the English translation: “ ‘O Master of the Universe, Master of the Universe, You are our Father and we are Your children.’ ”
Then I leaned over, put my face against Moishe’s and sang it without words. I repeated the tune over and over. Eventually, Moishe snuggled against me and fell silent. A deep sense of peace engulfed me.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “The Master of the Universe will look after you.”
All at once, loud clapping startled me. I pulled away from Moishe to see David standing on the grass behind us and clapping with all his might.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got off at the wrong station.” Without waiting for my reply, he crouched down beside my brother’s chair. “How are you feeling today, Moishe?” he asked. “Are you having a good time in the park?”
Moishe examined him with serious eyes before he broke out in a happy grin. David patted Moishe’s arm and straightened up.
“You have an amazing voice, Chanie,” he said, turning to me. “I couldn’t believe my ears. I’ve never heard anybody sing like you.”
“You aren’t supposed to hear me sing at all!”
“Why not?”
He sat down on the bench beside me, so I slid to the other end. I stared at the trees, at the grass, at my brother—anywhere but at him.
“Why can’t I hear you sing?” he repeated.
“It’s forbidden. A man can’t hear a woman sing unless she’s a member of his family.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to. All you have to know is that it’s forbidden.”
“But I don’t understand.” He shook his head in confusion. “Don’t you want others to hear you sing?”
I knew I should say that no Lubavitcher girl would want that, but before I could stop myself, I blurted out: “More than anything.”
That opened the floodgates, and I told David everything. How much I loved music. How happy singing made me feel. How I wanted others to hear me sing and to feel the same happiness I felt. And then, to my shame, I began to cry.
He listened without interrupting me, then fished a Kleenex out of his pocket and gave it to me. He waited until I’d wiped my eyes.
“You should take voice lessons. You have an incredible gift,” he said seriously.
“What do you mean?”
He moved closer. “Just what I said. You should have lessons to help your voice reach its full potential.”
“Girls like me don’t study singing. I’ve never even heard of anybody who did.”
“But—”
“You don’t understand, David.” I crumpled up the tissue and shoved it in my pocket. “The Rebbe says that we should dedicate ourselves to religious studies. That we shouldn’t waste our time on secular pursuits. And I must do what the Rebbe asks of me. He knows what’s best for me. For all of us.” I lowered my voice. “Mama and Papa believe that he might be the Messiah.”
“What about you, Chanie? Do you think Rabbi Schneerson is the Messiah?”
I wanted to be honest with him, even though it felt like a betrayal. “I’ve never thought much about it. He could be, I suppose.”
His eyes widened. “Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t know, David. And that’s the truth.” I surprised myself by beginning to cry again. “I should be happy devoting myself to Hashem! Why isn’t that enough for me? It’s enough for everybody else.”
He handed me another tissue. “You don’t know that. Nobody knows what’s in another person’s heart. God gave you your gift. It’s your duty to use it.”
Could David be right?
What he said made sense. But then I remembered Mama’s scowl whenever she heard
me sing. And I knew Papa always went along with whatever she wanted.
“Even if what you say is true, my parents will never allow me to study singing.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not the Torah or the Tanya.”
“You’ll just have to convince them somehow to let you take voice lessons.”
I shook my head. “I know them. They’ll say that studying singing is a waste of my time.”
“So apply for a scholarship. Juilliard gives out scholarships. You could get one. You’re good enough.”
“Juilliard?”
He laughed. “I can’t believe you live in New York! Juilliard is the best music school in the whole country, and it’s only a subway ride away.”
A woman glanced at us curiously as she passed our bench. I began to breathe easier when I saw that she was a stranger. But then Moishe started to wail.
“He must be hungry,” I said as I jumped up. “I have to take him home. I didn’t realize it was getting so late.”
“You go first. I’ll wait a few minutes before leaving.” David stood too. “Think about what I said, though. Let’s talk more about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, and you should. I’ll meet you here
at the same time next Sunday. I want to know what you decide.”
“I can’t come,” I repeated, pushing Moishe’s wheelchair away from him as fast as I could.
“I’ll be here, Chanie—next Sunday at four o’clock!” he cried after me. “Don’t forget!”
And I didn’t. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I fought the Evil Inclination with all my might, but I was constantly defeated by the memory of his blue eyes and his sweet smile. I tossed and turned at night, replaying his every word. Was it possible for me to get a scholarship to this music school he talked about? I kept turning the idea over and over in my head, telling myself that this could never happen. But the more I did this, the more I began to hope that my dream could become reality.
The next Sunday afternoon, I told Mama that I had to go to Devorah Leah’s house to help her with our math assignment.
“Why so close to dinner?” she asked.
“It’s the only time she’s free, and I didn’t want to refuse her. She’s failing math. It’s a mitzvah to help her.”
Mama nodded. “I know, I know. Just give Moishe his snack before you leave.”
I didn’t dare argue, but Moishe must have sensed my impatience, for he was restless and took longer than usual. As soon as he finished eating, I ran to my room
and threw on a light sweater, hooked my schoolbag over my shoulder and headed for the kitchen. Mama was at the stove once again.
“Don’t be late for dinner!” she said.
“I won’t.”
I felt guilty for lying to her, but there was no other way.
I ran most of the way to the park and was hot and sweaty by the time I got there.
David was sitting on the bench, looking at his watch. He broke into a huge grin when he saw me. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t come.”
“I’m sorry. Mama made me give Moishe his snack. Have you been waiting long?”
“Just a few minutes. It doesn’t matter.”
I sat down on the opposite end of the bench and used my schoolbag as a barricade between us. His knapsack was lying on the grass. He picked it up and began to rummage through it, finally pulling out a sheaf of documents. He thrust them into my hands.
“Have a look at these,” he said. “I picked up an application form for you at Juilliard. It includes a request for financial aid.”