Everything Is Illuminated (21 page)

"J
ON-FEN,
" I said, "Jon-fen, arouse! Look who I have!" "Huh?" "Look," I said, and pointed to Augustine. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked. "Where are we?" "Trachimbrod! We are in Trachimbrod!" I was so proud. "Grandfather," I uttered, and moved Grandfather with much violence. "What?" "Look, Grandfather! Look who I have found!" He moved his hands across his eyes. "Augustine?" he asked, and it appeared as if he could not be certain if he was still in dreams. "Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior!" I said, shaking her. "We are here!" "Who are these people?" Augustine asked, and she was persevering to cry. She dried her tears with her dress, which signified lifting it enough to exhibit her legs. But she was not ashamed. "Augustine?" the hero asked. "Let us roost," I said, "and we will illuminate everything." The hero and the bitch removed themselves from the car. I was not certain if Grandfather would come, but he did. "Are you hungry?" Augustine asked. The hero must have been acquiring some Ukrainian, because he put his hand on his stomach. I moved my head to say, Yes, some of us are very hungry people. "Come," Augustine said, and I detected that she was not melancholy at all, but happy without controls. She took my hand. "Come inside. I will arrange lunch, and we will eat." We walked up the wood stairs that I first witnessed her roosting on and went into her house. Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior loitered outside, smelling the clothes on the ground.

First, I must describe that Augustine had a very unusual walk, which went from here to there with heaviness. She could not move any faster than slow. It looked like she had a leg that was damaged goods. (If we knew then, Jonathan, would we have still gone in?) Second, I must describe her house. It was not similar to any house that I have seen, and I do not think that I would dub it a house. If you want to know what I would dub it, I would dub it two rooms. One of the rooms had a bed, and a small desk, a bureau, and many things from the floor to the ceiling, including piles of more clothes and hundreds of shoes of different sizes and fashions. I could not see the wall through all of the photographs. They appeared as if they came from many different families, although I did recognize that a few of the people were in more than one or two. All of the clothing and shoes and pictures made me to reason that there must have been at least one hundred people living in that room. The other room was also very populous. There were many boxes, which were overflowing with items. These had writing on their sides. A white cloth was overwhelming from the box marked
WEDDINGS AND OTHER CELEBRATIONS
. The box marked
PRIVATES: JOURNALS/DIARIES/ SKETCHBOOKS/UNDERWEAR
was so overfilled that it appeared prepared to rupture. There was another box, marked
SILVER/PERFUME/PINWHEEIS
, and one marked
WATCHES/WINTER
, and one marked
HYGIENE/SPOOLS/CANDLES
, and one marked
FIGURINES/SPECTACLES
. If I had been a smart person, I would have recorded all of the names on a piece of paper, as the hero did in his diary, but I was not a smart person, and have since forgotten many of them. Some of the names I could not reason, like the box marked
DARKNESS
, or the one with
DEATH OF THE FIRSTBORN
written in pencil on its front. I noticed that there was a box on the top of one of these skyscrapers of boxes that was marked
DUST
.

There was a petite stove in this room, a shelf with vegetables and potatoes, and a wooden table. It was at this wooden table that we sat. It was hard to remove the chairs because there was almost no room for them with all of the boxes. "Allow me to cook you a little something," she said, giving all of her words and glances to me. "Please, do not make any efforts," Grandfather said. "It is nothing," she said, "but I must tell you that I do not have so much currency, and for that reason I have no meat." Grandfather looked at me and closed one of his eyes. "Do you like potatoes and cabbage?" she asked. "This is a perfect thing," Grandfather said. He was smiling so so much, and I am not lying if I tell you
that I had never seen him smile so much since Grandmother was alive. I saw that when she rotated to excavate a cabbage from a wooden box on the floor, Grandfather arranged his hairs with a comb from his pocket.

"Tell her I'm so glad to meet her," the hero said. "We are all so glad to meet you," I said, and on accident I punched the pillowcases box with my elbow. "It would be impossible for you to comprehend how long we have been searching for you." She made a fire on the stove and began to cook the food. "Ask her to tell us everything," the hero said. "I want to hear about how she met my grandfather, and why she decided to save him, and what happened to her family, and if she ever talked to my grandfather after the war. Find out," he said quietly, as if she might have comprehended, "if they were in love." "Slowness," I said, because I did not want Augustine to shit a brick. "You are being very kind," Grandfather said to her, "to take us into your home, and to cook for us your food. You are very kind." "You are kinder," she said, and then she performed a thing that surprised me. She looked at her face in the reflection of the window above the stove, and I think that she desired to see how she appeared. This is only my notion, but I am certain that it is a true one.

We watched her, as if the whole world and its future were because of her. When she cut a cabbage into little pieces, the hero moved his head this and that with the knife. When she put those pieces in a pan, Grandfather smiled and held one of his hands with the other. As for me, I could not retrieve my eyes from her. She had thin fingers and high bones. Her hairs, as I mentioned, were white and long. The ends of them moved against the floor, taking the dust and dirt with them. It was rigid to examine her eyes because they were so far back in her face, but I could see when she looked at me that they were blue and resplendent. It was her eyes that let me understand that she was, without a query, the Augustine from the picture. And I was certain, looking at her eyes, that she had saved the hero's grandfather, and probably many others. I could imagine in my brain how the days connected the girl in the photograph to the woman who was in the room with us. Each day was like another photograph. Her life was a book of photographs. One was with the hero's grandfather, and now one was with us.

When the food was ready, after many minutes of cooking, she transported it to the table on plates, one for each of us, and not one for her. One of the potatoes descended to the floor, PLOMP, which made us laugh for reasons that a subtle writer does not have to illuminate. But Augustine did not laugh. She must have been very shamed, because she hid her face for a long time before being able to view us again. "Are you OK?" Grandfather asked. She did not answer. "Are you OK?" And suddenly she returned to us. "You must be very fatigued from all of your traveling," she said. "Yes," he said, and he rotated his head, like he was embarrassed, but I do not know what he would be embarrassed about. "I could walk to the market and purchase some cold drinks," she said, "if you like cola, or something else." "No," Grandfather said with urgency, as if she might leave us and never return. "That is not necessary. You are being so generous. Please, sit." He removed one of the wooden chairs from the table, and on accident gave a small punch to the box marked
MENORAHS/INK/KEYS
. "Thank you," she said, and lowered her head. "You are very beautiful," Grandfather said, and I did not anticipate him to say that, and I do not think that he anticipated to say that. There was silence for a moment. "Thank you," she said, and she moved her eyes from him. "You are the one who is generous." "But you are beautiful," he said. "No," she said, "no, I am not." "I think you are beautiful," I said, and while I was not anticipating to say that, I do not lament saying it. She was so beautiful, like someone who you will never meet, but always dream of meeting, like someone who is too good for you. She was also very timid, I could perceive. It was rigid for her to view us, and she stored her hands in the pockets of her dress. I will tell you that when she did confer us a look, it was never to us, but always to me.

"What are you talking about?" the hero asked. "Has she mentioned my grandfather?" "He does not speak Ukrainian?" she asked. "No," I said. "Where is he from?" "America." "Is that in Poland?" I could not believe this thing, that she did not know of America, and I must tell you that it made her even more beautiful to me. "No, it is far away. He came on an airplane." "A what?" "An airplane," I said, "in the sky." I moved my hand in the air like an airplane, and on accident I gave a small punch to the box with
FILLINGS
written across it. I made the sound of an airplane with my lips. This made her distressed. "No more," she said. "What?"
"Please," she said. "From the war?" Grandfather asked. She did not say a thing. "He came to see you," I said. "He came from America for you." "I thought it was you," she said to me. "I thought you were the one." This made me laugh, and also made Grandfather laugh. "No," I said, "it is him." I placed my hand on the head of the hero. "He is the one who voyaged over the world to find you." This incited her to cry again, which I did not intend to do, but I must say that it seemed befitting. "You came for me?" she said to the hero. "She wants to know if you came for her." "Yes," the hero said, "tell her yes." "Yes," I said, "everything is for you." "Why?" she asked. "Why?" I asked the hero. "Because if it weren't for her, I couldn't be here to find her. She made the search possible." "Because you created him," I said. "By saving his grandfather, you allowed him to be born." Her breaths became brief. "I would like to give her something," the hero said. He excavated an envelope from his fanny pack. "Tell her it has money. I know it isn't enough. There couldn't be enough. It's just some money from my parents to make her life easier. Give it to her." I secured the envelope. It was brimming. There must have been many thousands of dollars in it. "Augustine," Grandfather said, "would you return with us? To Odessa?" She did not answer. "We could care for you. Do you have family here? We could take them into our house also. This is not a way to live," he said, pointing to the chaos. "We will give you a new life." I told the hero what Grandfather said. I saw that his eyes were impending tears. "Augustine," Grandfather said, "we can save you from all of this." He pointed to her house again, and he pointed to all of the boxes:
HAIR/HAND MIRRORS, POETRY/NAILS/PISCES, CHESS/RELICS/BLACK MAGIC, STARS/MUSIC BOXES, SLEEP/SLEEP/SLEEP, STOCKINGS/KIDDUSH CUPS, WATER INTO BLOOD
.

"Who is Augustine?" she asked.

"What?" I asked. "Who is Augustine?" "Augustine?" "What's she saying?" "The photograph," Grandfather said to me. "We do not know what the writing is on the back. It might not be her name." I exhibited her the photograph again. Again she made to cry. "This is you," Grandfather said, putting his finger under her face in the photograph. "Here. You are the girl." Augustine moved her head to say, No, this is not me, I
am not her. "It is a very aged photograph," Grandfather said to me, "and she has forgotten." But I had already secured into my heart what Grandfather would not allow in. I returned the currency back to the hero. "You know this man," Grandfather said and did not inquire, putting his finger on the hero's grandfather. "Yes," she said, "that is Safran." "Yes," he said, looking at me, then looking at her. "Yes. And he is with you." "No," she said, "I do not know who those others are. They are not from Trachimbrod." "You saved him." "No," she said, "I did not." "Augustine?" he asked. "No," she said, and she exited from the table. "You saved him," he said. She put her hands on her face. "She is not Augustine," I told the hero. "What?" "She is not Augustine." "I don't understand." "Yes," Grandfather said. "No," she said. "She is not Augustine," I told the hero. "I thought that she was, but she is not." "Augustine," Grandfather said, but she was in the other room. "She is timid," Grandfather said. "We surprised her very much." "Perhaps we should go forth," I said. "We are not going anywhere. We must help her to remember. Many people try so rigidly to forget after the war that they can no longer remember." "This is not the situation," I said. "What are you saying?" the hero asked. "Grandfather thinks she is Augustine," I told him. "Even though she says she isn't?" "Yes," I said. "He is not being reasonable."

She returned with a box from the other room. The word
REMAINS
was written on it. She put it on the table and dislodged the top. It was brimmed with many photographs, and many pieces of paper, and many ribbons, and cloths, and queer things like combs, rings, and flowers that had become more paper. She removed each item, one at a time, and exhibited it to each of us, although I will say that it still seemed that she gave her attention only to me. "This is a photograph of Baruch in front of the old library. He used to sit there all day long and you know he could not even read! He said he liked to think about the books, think about them without reading them. He would always walk around with a book under his arm, and he took out more books from the library than anyone in the shtetl. What nonsense! This one," she said, and excavated another photograph out of the box, "is Yosef and his brother Tzvi. I used to play with them when they came home from school. I always had a little thing in my heart for Tzvi, but I never told him. I planned on telling him, but
I never did. I was such a funny girl, always having little things in my heart. It would drive Leah crazy when I would tell her about them, she would say, 'All of those little things, you are not going to have room for any blood!'" This made her laugh at herself, and then she became silent.

"Augustine?" Grandfather asked, but she must not have heard him, because she did not rotate to him, but only moved her hands through the things in the box, like the things were water. Now she did not give her eyes to any of us but me. Grandfather and the hero did not exist to her anymore.

"Here is Rivka's wedding ring," she said, and put it on her finger. "She hid it in a jar that she put in the ground. I knew this because she told me. She said, 'Just in case.' Many people did this. The ground is still filled with rings, and money, and pictures, and Jewish things. I was only able to find a few of them, but they fill the earth." The hero did not ask me once what she was saying, and he never did ask me. I am not certain if he knew what she was saying, or if he knew not to inquire.