Part 21 (1/2)
”Binny, there's something I have to tell you.”
They were sitting in the same dairy restaurant they'd been to on their first date, at the very same table. He looked at her and realized that what she was about to say was serious. It was a bl.u.s.tery night, and there weren't many people out. They had enough privacy to talk about anything, and he had had some plans of his own regarding a topic. But she had beaten him to it, and by the look on her face, his guess was that his agenda would have to wait.
”I want to go to college.” There, I've said it, she told herself. The act is over.
He was speechless, as if he hadn't heard.
”Binny, I want to go to college, and I also want to go to medical school.” There was no way he didn't hear that.
The dumbfounded expression left his face. ”Oh,” he said, wearing his disappointment. ”I see.”
”I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I...” She stopped herself mid-sentence.
”You?”
”I was afraid.”
”Afraid? Of what?” His tone was serene, but she could tell he was shaken.
”Of everything, I guess. I know that this changes things, that you probably won't want to see me anymore.” She became tearful.
He didn't know how to react. He felt deceived; he felt sad; he didn't want to lose her. He had planned to ask for her hand that night. And now this. Suddenly, he began to swell with anger. How could you do this to me, he thought. ”How could you do this to us?” he said.
She was silent.
He stared into s.p.a.ce for a moment, then stood up and gathered his things. ”Come, I'll take you home,” he said, putting on his coat.
Without another word, she complied.
They left the restaurant, and kept silent as they walked the three blocks to her apartment. At the front door to her building, he politely said good-night. She could see that he was trying to control the hurt that she had brought upon him.
She kept back her tears, turned from him, and walked into the building. She stood, waiting for the elevator, flushed with anguish. And terrified of how her parents would react.
The following morning, the phone rang in the Weissman home at six o'clock. The rabbi was preparing to leave for the morning prayer service at the synagogue; Rachel and Hannah were still in bed. Hannah was awakened by the ringing, but Rachel had already been up, she hadn't slept at all.
From her bed, Rachel was able to hear bits and pieces of her father's end of the conversation. ”Vhat do you mean?” ”Yes, I see.” ”Of course, I vill talk to her immediately and find out vhat happened.” ”No, you didn't disturb me at all.” ”I vill certainly phone you as soon as I know something myself.”
After he hung up, Rachel overheard a conversation between her parents: ”Who was it?” her mother asked.
”Reb Blesofsky,” her father answered.
”Well, what did he want?”
”He said that it is ois s.h.i.+ddoch, the match is finished, over.”
”Ois s.h.i.+ddoch! How can that be? They seemed to like each other...”
”He said he didn't know vhy, only that Binny had called him last night and told him it vas off. That's all.”
Sometime during their conversation, Rachel had gotten out of bed, and had walked to their bedroom. She was now standing in the doorway. They looked at her, waiting for her to say something.
”I told Binny last night that I want to go to college. To medical school. To be a doctor.”
Lost in her own thoughts, she ignored their reactions. She held back her tears, and added, ”I don't think he wants to marry me anymore.” She stood there, almost dazed for a moment, and then began to cry.
Hannah jumped out of bed, went to her, and held her, trying to console her. Isaac remained seated on the bed, visibly shaken.
”Papa,” Rachel said, regaining her composure.
The rabbi didn't answer.
”Isaac,” Hannah called out.
Still blank.
”Come,” Hannah said to Rachel, ”we'll go to the kitchen and talk there.” She began to escort her daughter to the kitchen when a faint voice said, ”Vait!”
They turned and looked at the rabbi. ”It vill be okay,” he said. ”Vhatever you vant, Rucheleh, as long as you are happy. It vill be okay.”
He stood up, walked over, and held his arms out. Rachel stepped into his embrace, and wrapped her arms around him. They held each other tightly, wordlessly. Hannah watched, her heart feeling heavy. All that could be heard was their crying.
Standing in prayer, draped in his tallis and tefillin, Rabbi Isaac Weissman was unable to think of G.o.d. He yearned for the serenity that his prayers usually brought, but his mind was distracted, tormented by images from the past. He knew he couldn't erase the images, he had tried to so many times and had failed. They were part of him, now and forever.
A room illuminated by candles; a familiar woman sitting across the table; a two year old boy sitting on his lap, tugging at him as he sang Sabbath melodies.
Flames from outside a window; a door burst open; soldiers storming in. A dark, crammed cattle car; a woman beside him; a boy in his arms.
Echoes of wailing; a line; hundreds standing in the cold; soldiers with guns; a man with a list in his hand.
A boy and a woman at his side; a man pointing to the left.
A woman and a boy being dragged away; a soldier's hand against his chest; a struggle; screaming.
Darkness.
He tried to reach into the darkness, to bring back the boy and the woman, just as he had tried so many times before. But, as always, his mind was empty, blank. They were lost in the darkness.
Suddenly, he felt tightness in his chest. Difficulty breathing. He sat down in a chair, and one of the other men in the synagogue noticed he was sweating and pale. The man walked over to inquire if he was okay. Some other men saw what was happening and gathered around.
”It's nothing,” he said, laboring to speak. ”I'll be fine, I...” He tried to catch his breath, but never finished the sentence.
He regained consciousness in the hospital, lying in a bed beneath a plastic oxygen tent, tubes in his arm and electrical attachments affixed to his chest. Through the tent he could see the distorted images of his daughter and wife standing beside him. He attempted to maneuver his hand outside the tent to touch them.
”Stop! Yitzchak. Just relax, don't move,” Hannah said.
He complied, resting his hand by his side. Then he tried to speak, but couldn't.
”Papa.”
He looked at Rachel.