While We're Far Apart (16 page)

“Yep. I told them that they’d have to answer to me if they give him a hard time.” He made two fists and punched the air like a prizefighter.

“Well . . . thank you for that.”

“What did you say was wrong with your brother?”

“The doctors don’t know yet. His throat doesn’t work right.” She knew better than to lie, but Peter was the only family she had left and she had to protect him.

Esther’s earliest memory was of the day that Peter had been born, and she’d seen him for the first time, lying in their mother’s arms, only a few hours old. Mama said that Esther had glared at him as if she wished he had never been born. He had taken Esther’s place in Mama’s arms, which was reason enough to hate him.

But then Mama had let Esther hold Peter, and Daddy took a photograph of the three of them together. Whenever Esther and her mother came to that picture in the photograph album, Mama would say, “See how tiny your baby brother was? But you helped me take such good care of him.” Nine years after Aaron Peter Shaffer had come into Esther’s life, she knew that she would lie, cheat, and probably steal in order to continue taking care of him for Mama.

“Hey, you missed a great movie last Saturday.” Jacky said, interrupting her thoughts. “We watched
Andy Hardy’s Double Life
. You like Mickey Rooney?”

“He’s the best. My dad used to take us to see all his movies – before Daddy went off to war, that is.”

“I’ll take you anytime you want to go. I have spending money now that I’m working.”

“Thanks. It’s nice of you to offer . . . but I don’t know if I can.” Penny would probably agree to anything Esther asked in order to get on her good side. Penny had arranged piano lessons for her, hadn’t she? But Esther wasn’t sure if she really wanted to go to the movies with Jacky Hoffman. Once again she felt pulled in opposite directions. “Could Peter come, too?”

“Sure, if he has money. I’m only paying for your ticket.” He grinned, and he looked just like Clark Gable with his rogue’s smile and a lock of hair hanging over one eye.

“Okay. Maybe Peter and I will go with you this Saturday.”

“I have to deliver groceries in the morning, but meet me right here in time for the matinee.”

He started to leave and Esther found she didn’t want him to go quite yet. “How’s your dad doing?” she asked. “Do you get letters from him?”

“Yeah. Sometimes we go a few weeks without hearing anything, and then a whole pile of letters will come all at once.”

“Where is he stationed now?”

“He’s on a battleship in the Pacific Ocean somewhere. He isn’t allowed to tell us where or the censors will cut up his letters like Swiss cheese.”

“Do you miss him?” she asked, thinking of her own father.

“Yeah, sure.” But Jacky looked away when he spoke, and Esther could tell that he was lying. Too late, she recalled how Jacky’s father used to yell at his kids and chase after them with his belt. Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman used to argue all the time, and the neighborhood had been a lot quieter since he had enlisted. Their home probably was quieter, too.

“My father says I have to be the man of the house while he’s away,” Jacky said. “That’s why I took this job delivering groceries.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I make real good money in tips. Lots of women are working at the Navy Yard all day now, and they don’t have time to stand in line for groceries when they get home. They’re real grateful when I deliver them right to their houses.”

Esther wondered if the new job and the responsibility of being the man of the house had caused the changes she saw in Jacky. And she also wondered if they were permanent. Maybe he was like Mickey Rooney’s character in the new movie, only this time it was Jacky Hoffman’s Double Life.

“Hey, I’d better get home and eat supper,” he said. “Ma is keeping it warm for me. See you Saturday.” He waved and steered his bike into the narrow passage between their two apartment buildings.

The evening seemed to turn colder after Jacky left, and Esther decided to go inside. She got as far as the vestibule and she could hear the music so clearly that she stood there for several minutes, listening. When the piece ended she summoned all her courage and knocked on Mr. Mendel’s door. He opened it a mere crack.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Mr. Mendel. I really like the music that was playing on your radio just now. Could you please tell me which radio station that was?”

“Heh? The station? I cannot recall. But I suppose you could come inside and look on the dial for yourself. The numbers are hard for me to read without my glasses.”

“Thanks.” She slipped through the door as he opened it wider and knelt down on the carpet in front of the radio console to read the tiny numbers.

“Here is some paper,” Mr. Mendel said. “You can write the numbers down.”

“Thanks. I always fight with Peter over which station to play,” she said as she copied the numbers. “He likes to listen to ball games. The Dodgers are his favorite team.”

“Yes. So he has told me.”

Esther nearly lost her balance. “He talks to you?”

“Well . . . he used his hands as I recall, not words. I thought he was playing a game.”

“No, it isn’t a game. Peter can’t talk. There’s something wrong with his throat, I think.” Esther stood again and handed back his pencil. “Is there something I can do to help you today, Mr. Mendel?” The music had started playing again, and she wanted to stay and hear it. And to talk to him. “It must be hard to wash dishes with only one good arm.”

“Thank you, but I cannot take advantage of your kindness again.”

“I don’t mind, honest. And I could listen to the music while I worked.”

He studied her in silence for what seemed like a very long time. Esther could tell that he was struggling to make up his mind, as if he felt pulled in two directions at the same time just like she sometimes did. But she didn’t understand why it was such a hard decision.

“How would it be if I paid you to help me?” he finally said.

“You don’t have to pay me. I’ll do it for nothing.”

“No, I insist. My dishes do need to be washed, and I am afraid there are a good many of them.”

He led the way into the kitchen, and as they passed the dining room table she saw it was covered with photographs and clippings and maps cut from the newspaper. She wanted to stop and look at the pictures more closely, but instead she followed him through the kitchen door. Esther saw right away that he was right about the mess. Plates and bowls and pots filled the sink, the way they used to pile up in her own kitchen before Daddy joined the army and Penny had come to live with them. More dishes covered the tabletop.

“See what I mean?” he asked. “Would you like to change your mind?”

Esther thought of what she could do with the money and shook her head. “Our dishes used to pile up like this, too, after Mama died.” She took off her jacket and began rolling up her sleeves.

“I should warn you that you will have to wash these two piles separately. The dishes and silverware by the sink cannot be mixed with the ones on the table.”

“Okay . . . but why?”

“That is our law,” he said with a shrug. “One set of dishware and pots are for serving meat, the other for dairy. The meat utensils go in this cupboard and in these drawers, and the dishes for dairy go over there. The pots must be separated, as well. Meat goes here, dairy there.”

Esther turned on the faucet and waited for the water to get hot. She feared making a mistake now that she knew there was a wrong way to do it. “Mr. Mendel? I’ll try to be really careful, but what happens if I make a mistake and accidentally mix them up?”

Once again he looked at her for a long moment before replying. She wondered if he would change his mind and send her away. But he finally shrugged and said, “Nothing. Nothing will happen. I do not even know why I bother, now that Miriam is gone. She was always so careful about her kitchen, making sure to follow all the laws of
kashrut
. I suppose I am doing it for her sake. She would be very upset with me if she were here and saw how I lived. But what does it matter? She is not here.”

“I liked Mrs. Mendel,” Esther said softly. “She was so nice. I’ll be careful for her sake, too.” She put the plug into the drain and sprinkled in Ivory Snow powder as the sink filled with water. “I really miss her. I’ll bet you miss her, too.”

“Yes.” She saw his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. “Yes.”

Esther felt sorry for him, living all alone. She was about to ask if he had any children when she remembered Mrs. Mendel telling Mama about her son who was a grown man like Daddy. Esther couldn’t remember if he was fighting in the war or not, but she seemed to recall that he was far away somewhere.

“Mrs. Mendel showed us pictures of your son, once, and said that he lived far away from here. Is he fighting in the war?”

Mr. Mendel pulled out a kitchen chair and sank onto it. His cast clunked against the porcelain tabletop as he rested his arm. “No. No, our son went away to a small town in Hungary to study Torah, and now he cannot get home. The United States is at war with Hungary, you see.”

“Is that why you’re cutting out all those pictures and maps from the newspaper?”

“I have not found any newspaper pictures from Hungary, but I am trying to gather what little news I can about my people.”

“You mean your relatives?”

“In a sense. I meant the Jewish people.”

“Oh. I’ll bet you wish this war would end so your son could come home.”

“Yes. He has a wife and little girl now. I have never met them.”

Esther suddenly understood the tie she felt with Mr. Mendel. He must miss his family the same way she missed Mama . . . and now Daddy, who was far away, too. But at least she still had Peter, even if he couldn’t talk to her. Peter could keep her company at night and walk to school beside her and sit beside her at the table as they ate their meals. And she still had Grandma Shaffer, too, even if she had been mean to Peter the last time they had visited her. How awful it must be to live all alone like Mr. Mendel.

“Do you have any other children, besides your son?”

“No, he is the only one.”

“Do you have any other relatives? Sisters and brothers?”

“Yes, I have two brothers, but they did not come to America when I did. They are still in Hungary, where Avraham is. I am trying to find out what has happened to all of them, but there is no longer any mail service.”

“Is that your son’s name? Avraham?” Mr. Mendel nodded. “Peter and I don’t have any family close by, either. That’s why Penny Goodrich had to move in with us. Grandma Shaffer can’t take care of us because she’s too old and doesn’t have any room in her house. We have an aunt named Gloria – she’s Uncle Steve’s wife – but nobody likes her because she’s Italian.”

The drainboard had become too full to hold any more dishes, so Esther pulled a dish towel from the hook and began drying them. “They go up here? In this cupboard?” she asked.

“Yes, please. What about your mother’s family?”

Esther stopped drying to look at him in surprise. “Mama’s family?”

“Yes. Do your mother’s relatives live here in Brooklyn?”

Of course Mama must have relatives. Everybody had a family, didn’t they? But no one had ever talked about Mama’s family, and Esther couldn’t recall ever meeting them. Moisture from the wet plate soaked through her blouse as she held it against her chest, chilling her. “I don’t know anything about Mama’s family,” she murmured. But why didn’t she? Why was it such a mystery?

“If you are tired of doing dishes you may stop anytime,” Mr. Mendel said. “There is no need to do all of them tonight.”

His words jarred Esther from her thoughts, and she resumed her task. “No, I don’t mind. I like helping you.”

“I have thought of hiring a housekeeper, but my broken arm will be healed in a few more weeks and I will be able to do things for myself again.”

“You can hire me until then. I know how to do all kinds of things around the house besides dishes. I can dust and sweep, clean sinks. And I could use the money to buy war bond stamps and take Peter to the movies once in a while. And to pay for my piano lessons.” The idea of paying for her own lessons had just occurred to Esther, but she thought it was a good one. “Penny Goodrich is paying for my lessons right now, but I don’t want her to. She’s not my mother.” Her words came out more harshly than she intended.

Mr. Mendel frowned. “I see,” he said, nodding slowly. “Then perhaps this arrangement will work well for both of us.”

C
HAPTER 14

P
ENNY’S STOMACH CHURNED
as she stood at the stove, scrambling eggs for breakfast. She divided them between two plates instead of three when they were cooked, feeling much too queasy to eat. Today she would start training to be a bus driver. She couldn’t recall ever being so nervous.

“I might be a little late coming home from work today,” she told Esther and Peter when they joined her in the kitchen. “I start training for a new job today.” She waited, wondering if they would show an interest and maybe ask her about it. Neither of them did.

“Okay . . . well, your lunches are all packed. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” Penny grabbed her own lunch pail and hurried downstairs to the bus stop, not wanting to be late on the first day. She didn’t know if she would be able to eat a bite of food at noontime, either.

She waited on the corner, and when the bus arrived, she was relieved to see her marine friend, Roy Fuller, sitting in his usual place in the front. He greeted her with a grin. “Here you go, Penny. I saved you a seat. But you’ll be on your own for the next few days. I’m going home tomorrow on a three-day leave.”

“That’s wonderful, Roy. I’ll bet you can hardly wait.”

“I’m counting the hours until I can kiss my girlfriend.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

“Three and a half months. How about you and your soldier boy?”

“Eddie’s been gone nearly a month already, but he should be coming home on leave pretty soon.” The reminder sent Penny’s stomach rolling like a barrel down a steep hill. “It’ll be the first time I’ve seen him since he left for basic training.”