Threads and Flames (27 page)

A gust of cigar smoke enveloped her. Puffing like a tea-kettle, Henda's former boss emerged from the building, caught sight of her, and came strolling up. “What the hell are you still doing here? Move along!”

“Mister, you are not the boss here on the street,” Raisa said grimly. Then, remembering something she had learned in English class, she added, “This is a free country!”

“Oh, a smart one, huh?” he sneered. “Well, if you think you're going to wait around and get that guy's name from someone else in the shop, let me save you a lot of grief. I told my girls that if I caught any of 'em talking to you, I'd show them the door. And I mean to make it stick, even if I've got to hang here before and after work, keeping an eye out for you.” He took another puff of his cigar. “No skin off my nose. Only place I can have a smoke since the owners said no one can do it upstairs. What do they think, that I'm dumb enough to take a lit cigar out onto the shop floor?” Still muttering, he dropped the glowing butt in the gutter and went back inside.

“Holy cow, what flew up
his
butt?” A ragged newsboy who had been hawking his papers on the corner came up to Raisa and gave her an admiring look. “Good for you, lady, standing up to that plug-ugly. He likes to push people around too much. Sometimes he's down here mornings and if he sees me trying to peddle my papers to the girls, he puts a stop to it, says I'm keeping them from getting to work on time.” He stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. “So what's his beef with you?”

“I need to find a man who might tell me what became of my sister,” Raisa said. “
That
one knows the man's name, but will not say it.”

“That's rough, lady. A regular sphinx, huh?”

Raisa looked up at the Seven Arrows sign ruefully. “The most he told me was that the man I want is Jewish and comes from a rich family. They own department stores.”

“Yeah, always look for the rich ones, that's the ticket!” The newsboy showed a gap-toothed grin. “Look, if you got nothing else to go on 'cept his folks own department stores, why'n't you try going to a few and asking around? Not on the sales floor—up in the office.”

“And what am I to ask? I do not even know the young man's name!”

“So you ask about stuff you know. Ask if the owner's Jewish. Ask if he's even
got
a son. You look like a smart lady; you'll think of something. Say, can you read?”

“A little.”

“Tell you what.” He pulled a newspaper from the pile under his arm and held it out to her. “This's got lots of ads for the big stores. G'wan and try your luck at a couple, three. Whaddaya got to lose?”

Raisa took the newspaper. “You are right. Thank you.”

“Glad to help, lady.” He stuck out his hand. “That'll be a penny.”

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

I
t was already growing dark when Raisa took the downtown trolley home. It was so jammed with passengers that she had to stand the entire way. She felt beaten. She had tried the newsboy's suggestion, against her better judgment, and regretted it with every fiber of her aching body.

What a waste!
she thought.
I should have known. If
I
worked in an office and some strange girl came in off the streets asking if my boss was Jewish and did he have a son, how would I react? I'm just lucky no one called the police to get rid of me. That was no way to find Henda. I'd have more luck searching for a pin in the sea.

Raisa came back to the Kamenskys' apartment just in time for dinner. As soon as she opened the door, Brina came flying out into the hallway to greet her.

“You're back! You're back!” she crowed, alternately hugging Raisa and dancing eagerly in place. “There's a big surprise for you!”

“I wouldn't say I'm a
big
surprise.” Raisa's head whipped up at the sound of Zusa's voice. Her friend peered around the doorjamb, grinning. “But then again, I wouldn't talk about a surprise before it happens. It spoils things.”

“Brina doesn't spoil anything,” Raisa said, taking the little girl's hand and leading her back into the apartment. She was feeling too tired to appreciate Zusa's sense of humor. All she wanted to do was take off her shoes and rest her aching feet.

“That's because I didn't tell her everything. What she doesn't know, she can't repeat.” Zusa gave Brina a wink to let the child know she was only teasing.

Despite being weary to the bone, Raisa perked up her ears. “What are you talking about? What's happened?”

“Nothing bad, I promise. But I'm not saying another word until we eat. Mrs. Kamensky will twist my ears off if her food gets cold while I'm talking to you. Come on; everyone else is already sitting down.”

Raisa hung up her things and joined the family at the table, where they all recited the blessing over the bread. While Mrs. Kamensky began filling their guest's plate, Gavrel turned to Raisa and asked, “How did it go?”

Raisa only shook her head and stared at her plate. “Not well.” She had no appetite. She was wrung out from the frustrations of the day. “Excuse me, please.” Raisa stood up. “I'm going to go lie down.”

“You can lie down later,” Mrs. Kamensky said. “Now you eat.”

“Mama is right, Raisa,” Fruma said. “You don't look like yourself. You should eat; it'll make you feel better.”

“I'm all right; I'm just very tired,” Raisa said. “And I'm not hungry.”

“Why not?” Mrs. Kamensky challenged her. “You want me to worry that maybe you're too sick to eat, God forbid?”

“Mama, Raisa herself said she's
not
sick,” Gavrel said. “She didn't have a good day, and that takes a lot out of a person. I'm sure she'll eat something later. Let her go lie down now, if that's what she wants.”

Raisa gave him a deeply grateful look, but his mother wasn't listening to anyone but herself. “I am
not
running a café in this house! We eat together, like civilized human beings, at dinnertime.” She ladled a huge portion of mashed potatoes onto Raisa's plate. Flecks of pepper and little brown bits of savory fried chicken skin dotted the white mound. It was one of Raisa's favorite dishes and it smelled delicious, but she was still too distressed to eat anything.

If I take one bite, I'll throw up,
she thought.
Now I know what Yossel's anvil feels like. Blow after blow after blow, it never stops! Fine, I'll eat, if that's the only thing that will make them leave me alone, and one of them can mop the floor after!
She tried a tiny bit of the potatoes, and when it stayed down, she ventured to eat some more. The heavy food became an anchor, centering and warming her. Soon her plate was empty, and she became aware that everyone else at the table was watching her.

“I told you you'd feel better if you ate,” Fruma said.

“Better enough to tell us what happened to you at Seven Arrows?” Gavrel asked.

Raisa reported everything she'd experienced that day, especially the rather one-sided conversation with Henda's former boss. “He called me a—a ‘bunco artist'?” She looked to Gavrel for help with the odd English term.

“A
dreykop,
a
goniff
, a
shvindler,
” Gavrel offered.

“All that?” Mrs. Kamensky clicked her tongue. “What a language, English!”

“And what luck that you've got such a nice dictionary in the house.” Zusa smiled playfully at Gavrel before looking back at Raisa.

Raisa wasn't smiling.

Zusa's whole manner changed. “Raisa, I'm sorry you went all that way uptown and still nothing about your sister—no
real
luck—but at least you learned
something,
right? Can't you smile about that, at least?”

“About what? A wasted day?” Raisa helped herself to some pickled cucumbers with onions. “I'm just lucky I won't get fired for it.” She slipped Gavrel a grateful glance.

“Really? Too bad,” Zusa said with an airy flip of her wrist. It wasn't in her nature to stay serious for very long. “Because if you got fired, I could get your job at Triangle and—”

Raisa put down her fork and stared at her friend. “
Stop
it, Zusa. I'm too worn out for games tonight.”

“Oh, fine, don't play.” Zusa pretended to pout. “It'll just be Gavrel and me, then.” She flashed him a smile, ignoring Raisa's sour look. “Go ahead, Gavrel, tell her.”

Gavrel fidgeted, a little nervous under Zusa's vivacious attention. “She's here because I invited her,” he said. “We ran into one another at Triangle today.”

“Triangle?” Now Raisa was intrigued. “Zusa, you mean you lost your old job?”

“Ha!” Zusa snapped her fingers. “More like
they
lost
me.
I knew I deserved better, so I quit. But that's not the whole story.
Tell
her, Gavrel.” She nudged him with her fingertips.

“I was at work early, putting in some extra hours,” he said.

“Which was where we met,” Zusa cut in. “And which is why he was the very first person to hear the news that I, Miss Zusa Reshevsky, will now be sharing my extraordinary garment-making talents with the management of Triangle Waists, starting
tomorrow
!” She concluded her announcement with a dramatic gesture and nearly smacked Gavrel in the nose. “
That's
the big surprise.”

“Really?” Raisa was thrilled to hear of her friend's good fortune. At the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little irritated with her.
Why does everything have to be such a big production with Zusa? And why does she keep trying to drag Gavrel in on it?

“Yes,
really.
” Zusa did a perfect imitation of Raisa's intonation. “And it would have been an even bigger surprise if this little bird hadn't come
that
close to blurting out the whole thing the instant you walked in the door.” She leaned over to pinch Brina's cheek. “Someone should teach you how to keep secrets, sweetheart. If a girl doesn't know how to hold on to a little air of mystery, the boys lose interest. How would you like to come stay with
my
family for a change, so I could teach you what's worth knowing? We have plenty of room, and I know Mama and cousin Selig would love you.” She was teasing again, but Mrs. Kamensky took it seriously.

“Fine lessons you want to teach her!
You
couldn't be troubled to keep track of her once you got off the boat, and we should entrust this precious child to
you
?” Mrs. Kamensky mashed Brina to her bosom, her eyes blazing.

“Please, please, I didn't mean it,” Zusa said, laughing. “It was only a joke.”

“Not a very funny one,” Fruma said under her breath.

The atmosphere at the dinner table had turned distinctly cold. Even happy-go-lucky Zusa noticed, and toned down her bubbly nature. She left as soon as she could, though not without making Raisa and Gavrel promise that the three of them would travel to and from work together from now on.

No sooner had Mrs. Kamensky locked the door behind her guest than she turned to her family and announced, “I don't like that one.”

“She's not a bad girl, Mrs. Kamensky,” Raisa said. “And she's been a very good friend to me. She helped me a lot on the ship, and with Brina, and—”

“You're
off
the ship now,” her landlady said tersely.

“Come on, Mama, Zusa's all right,” Gavrel said. “It's just that sometimes her sense of humor runs away with her. I like her.”

“You would, always with the jokes,” his father spoke up. “Two of a kind.”

“But God willing, not a pair,” Fruma muttered for Raisa's ears alone.

“I think I should put Brina to bed now,” Raisa said hastily.

As she was tucking Brina in, the little girl looked up at her and asked, “Are you mad at Zusa?”

“No, darling. It was a long day and I was angry at other people, but not her.” She kissed Brina's forehead, then mischievously added, “Not unless you run away to live with her. You won't do that, will you?”

“I'll stay here.” Brina had made up her mind. “Tante Lipke makes good cookies.”

 

 

When Raisa woke up early the next morning, Mrs. Kamensky greeted her with a rare breakfast treat, a couple of soft-boiled eggs. “To give you back some strength from yesterday,” she said.

Fruma came to the table with dark rings under her eyes. “I don't know what's the matter. I tossed and turned all night. I think you got my share of sleep as well as your own, Raisa,” she said with a feeble smile. “I can't wait to get married so I won't have to go to work every morning!”

“Yes, marriage is one big holiday,” her mother said drily.

“It's not?” Gavrel kept a straight face. “And here I thought I was going to do some poor girl a big favor by asking her to be my wife!”

“A
big
favor,” Mr. Kamensky repeated, matching his wife's sarcasm. “She won't be able to thank you enough for making her Mrs. Penniless Pattern Cutter.”

“Mrs. Penniless
Rabbi,
” Gavrel corrected him. “I'm going to be ordained in less than three years, if I keep up my studies. And if every girl got married for money, there'd be a lot more bachelors in the world. Fruma, tell the truth—did you say yes to Morris because he's going to be a big-deal druggist, or because you just wanted to quit factory work, or because you love him?”

“I thought you knew,” his sister replied. “It's because I can't get enough of his mother's company.”