Jacob swallowed his fear. “This is my house. It belonged to my grandparents.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “To your grandparents? You have papers to show they gave it to you? You little liar, I just bought it. I’m going to take you to the—”
Before the man could say more, Jacob ran from the house down the streets, into the alleys, as fast as his sturdy legs could take him.
For the rest of the day he hid in a deserted basement. They had taken his house away from him. It was his legacy. He loved that house because it held the memories of his
bubeleh
and
zayde
. One day, he promised himself, if he did nothing else, he would come back and redeem what belonged to him. His house. Yes, at least that…
T
HE NEXT FEW YEARS
found Jacob sleeping in alleys and doorways and supporting himself at odd jobs. He delivered meat for a butcher and always managed to cut a chunk of salami and hide it in his shirt. For the tailor, he delivered a suit minus the vest—and by the time the customer had a chance to complain, Jacob was miles away, working in a fish store.
His first real job came to him miraculously when he was thirteen. If there were anything to be grateful for in this world, it was the day he saw a sign in Mendlebaum’s window, advertising for an apprentice.
Mr. Mendlebaum was a small man with a sparse head of gray hair upon which he wore a skull cap. On his wire-rimmed eyeglasses were specks of ivory from the umbrella handles he carved. The decorations of Mr. Mendlebaum’s masterpieces fascinated Jacob.
At first Jacob worked in wood. Carefully and slowly, Jacob began to copy Mr. Mendlebaum’s designs. He worked far into the night, trying to master the technique of his mentor, whom Jacob thought was the only kind human being in the world. Jacob was afraid to like him too much, because liking and loving always seemed to end in disappointment, disillusion and pain. But in spite of himself, he found he was unable to hold back the flood of affection for both Mr. Mendlebaum and his wife. In turn, they soon came to regard him as a favored grandchild. He was frequently invited to dinner.
The best days was
Shabbes
. His mouth watered on Fridays as he whittled away contentedly. The aroma of
gefilte fish
, chicken soup and fresh baked
challah
found its way from the back of the store where the Mendlebaums had their rooms.
At three o’clock, the blinds were drawn and Mr. Mendlebaum would rest and prepare for the Sabbath. Jacob would go to the boarding house where he lived in an attic room, take his weekly bath, and change into the one decent suit he owned. At sundown, he and Mr. Mendlebaum would go to
shul
. How proud he was to stand beside Mr. Mendlebaum, who had bought him a
tallis
and
yarmulkah
. As Jacob touched the fringes of the
tallis
with reverence, he would glance from time to time at the man beside him. He was the z
ayde
returned to him. Jacob willed himself to believe that Mr. Mendlebaum was in fact his grandfather.
When the service was over, Jacob’s new
zayde
would put his arm around the boy and wish him
Shabbat shalom
. It was difficult for Jacob to hold back the tears. Then the two would return to
Shabbes
dinner. Life had become good for Jacob.
One morning, Jacob arrived to find Mr. Mendlebaum was not at his worktable. For a moment he was filled with apprehension, but his fears were quickly dispelled when he heard Mrs. Mendlebaum calling from the back of the store.
“Jacob, I want you to meet someone.”
Quickly, he went to the sittingroom.
“Jacob, I want you should meet Lotte.” With pride she continued, looking at the young girl, “This is our granddaughter. She came last night from Berlin.”
Jacob stood mute, looking at the beautiful creature. He was wise in the way of many worldly things, but thus far he had never thought of passion. All his sexual drives were tunneled into the business of survival, leaving him little time to dwell upon his physical fulfillment. This was the first time Jacob felt the stirring of desire. The sensation both disturbed and embarrassed him.
Lotte was fifteen and yet she looked younger than Jacob, who, though a few months her junior, stood a head taller and looked years older. She was round and soft. Her burnished brown hair fell demurely below her shoulders. When their eyes met, he felt dizzy from the stirring in his loins. When she smiled and acknowledged the introduction he mumbled something under his breath, quickly looking down at the floral carpet.
All morning he worked furiously at the ivory carvings. Today he did not join the Mendlebaums at the noonday meal. Against Mrs. Mendlebaum’s gentle urgings, he refused the meal, saying he wasn’t hungry while feeling guilty that perhaps he’d hurt her.
That afternoon was the first time the sharp instruments slipped, cutting his thumb deeply. He was angry at himself because his mind had been in the back of the store rather than on his work. He took out the white rag he used as a handkerchief and bound the wound tightly.
By four o’clock the pain was almost excruciating. Jacob had never been talkative, but today his silence had been so complete Mr. Mendlebaum was more than concerned.
“The finger bothers you? Here, let me see it.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Jacob, don’t be so stubborn, so brave. Go back and soak it in hot water.”
“It isn’t that painful.” Jacob shrugged.
“The look on your face tells me different. You can hardly hold the tool.”
“I’m sorry. I…I got clumsy.”
“Oh, Jacob, Jacob, what am I going to do with you? It’s no sin to be human. If it hurts, it hurts.”
When Jacob continued to work, Mr. Mendlebaum sighed and said, “All right, that’s enough for today. The ivory will be here tomorrow. Now, go inside and eat something.”
“Thank you very much, but I’m not hungry.”
“Then go home.”
Jacob looked at Mr. Mendlebaum. Was he angry? No. The eyes were kind.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” Jacob asked.
“It’s all right.” Mr. Mendlebaum shook his head and smiled. “If I get a rush order, I’ll send for you.” On the way out he called to Jacob, “And don’t forget to soak the thumb. A nine-fingered carver I don’t need.”
The night passed miserably for Jacob. He got out of bed a dozen times, and paced back and forth. His feelings were terribly confused and the heat of the attic so oppressive there was little to relieve his depression. He put on his shoes, fumbling painfully with the button hook. It had to be his right thumb, couldn’t have been the left. To hell with it. He slammed the door as he left, then bounded down the four flights of stairs, two at a time.
Once in the street, he ran for blocks. Finally winded, he sat on a bench under a gas lamp until the panting stopped.
For how long he sat staring out into space, he did not know. When he was more composed he got up and walked with his hands in his pockets. As he passed the stores he saw his image reflected in the windows. Stopping in front of Frankel’s Bakery, he took a closer look at his silhouette. It was as though he were seeing himself for the first time. He was a man! Much too large and much too tall for his age.
What had happened to him today was frightening because he’d come face to face with his manhood. He had known the awakening of suppressed desire the very first moment he had seen Lotte. The sensation of wanting a woman had jolted him. He now knew a different kind of love; not just the love and longing of the heart alone, but the love of someone with whom he desperately needed to share his physical self. But with his revelation came the self-discipline. He would never touch Lotte, never. She was the grandchild of his beloved benefactor.
The change in Jacob greatly disturbed Mr. and Mrs. Mendlebaum. Politely but firmly, he refused their invitations to dinner. He no longer attended
shul
on the Sabbath. Of all his avowed disciplines, this was one of the most painful.
When Lotte wandered into the store, he was polite but reserved. The conversation she tried to engage him in brought no response and left her in utter frustration. She was terribly smitten with him and unable to understand his dislike of her. At night she cried bitterly, because of his rejection.
For days she avoided coming through the front of the store. But the more he ostracized her, the more she wanted to see him.
Finally, one day, she sat across from him and watched as he worked.
It was almost impossible to keep working with her so close, but Jacob did not look up.
Trying to keep her voice even, she asked, “Jacob, I want to be your friend. Why do you hate me?”
His eyes on the carving tool, “How can I hate you? I don’t even know you.”
“You act like you do, like you resent me.”
“That’s your imagination. I’m only an employee. How should I act?”
“Like a person, a pleasant person. Besides, you’re not just an employee. My grandparents love you.”
Jacob swallowed as though something were caught in his throat. If only she would go away and leave him in peace. God, he wanted her so.
“Well, they do,” she continued.
“I don’t know why they should.”
“Neither do I. I think you’re the most miserable person I ever met.” With that she got up and ran from the store, leaving Jacob in a pool of perspiration. After this encounter, Lotte resolutely stayed away, though the separation was an agony to her. Jacob, for his part, continued to keep his distance from the Mendlebaums and their granddaughter, though he felt extremely guilty about his seeming ingratitude to the Mendlebaums.
One day, two weeks later, Mr. Mendlebaum cleared his throat as he whittled away at the lion’s head. “Jacob.”
“Yes?”
“Jacob, why have you been avoiding us lately?”
How could he lie to this man? This was one of the most difficult things he’d been called upon to do. “I’m sorry if it seems like that, but I’ve made friends with a few boys and I’m seeing a girl.”
“Oh? You’re seeing a girl?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of a girl?”
“A nice girl, a very nice girl.”
“Do I know the family?”
“I don’t think so. She lives on the other side of town.”
“You like her?”
“She’s a nice girl.”
“I know, you said that a number of times. But do you like her?”
There was a long pause. “I…I…guess so.”
“You guess so?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, since you’re not in love with her, I wouldn’t ask you to bring her to the picnic.”
“What picnic?”
“My lodge is having a picnic this Sunday and I think you would enjoy it. There will be other boys and girls. You’ll see, you’ll enjoy it.”
I’ll die, Jacob thought.
N
O MATTER HOW HARD
Jacob tried to make time stand still, Sunday came. He had been up since dawn, watching the sun rise. It held the promise of a glorious summer day. He washed his hair and shaved. The blond stubble had become more abundant in the last few weeks. After combing his hair, he held the comb up to his lip and looked at himself in a piece of broken mirror he had found in the rubble out in the backyard. With a mustache he could pass for eighteen, even nineteen. Maybe he should grow one. It would give him an air of distinction. Should he wear his suit? Was it right? He’d never been to a picnic. He decided to take the chance. If he was careful, nothing would happen to it.
At nine o’clock sharp, he knocked on the Mendlebaums’ back door.
It was opened by Lotte. Without a word, she turned and walked away.
Awkwardly, Jacob went into the sittingroom and stood with his cap in his hand.
“Good morning, Jacob, you look so handsome! Sit, sit. I have a few last-minute things to put in the basket,” Mrs. Mendlebaum said as she made her way to the kitchen.
Soon there was another greeting.
“Good morning, Jacob, it’s a lovely day for a picnic,” Mr. Mendlebaum said cheerfully. “You wouldn’t be too warm in that jacket?”
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t I wear it?”
“A sweater would be better. Wait, I’ll go get mine.”
Mr. Mendlebaum was at least three sizes smaller than Jacob was, but he’d wear it if it killed him. Soon Mr. Mendlebaum handed the sweater to Jacob, and he struggled into it.
Mr. Mendlebaum smiled. “Take it off, I thought it would fit. It happens to be a sweater my son sent to me for Chanukah, and it’s too big. I seem to shrink.”
“You didn’t shrink, only Aaron seemed to think you are the same size you were when he had to look up to you. You must have looked very tall,” Mrs. Mendlebaum laughed. “Here, take one of the baskets and Jacob can take the other.”
“No, Mrs. Mendlebaum, I can take both.”
“Then you, Max, take the blankets and the pillows.”
“Pillows we don’t need.”
“Pillows we need. What if someone wants to take a nap?”
“Pillows we need.” He nodded.
“They’re here,” Lotte called out excitedly from the back porch.
Within seconds they were climbing aboard the large horse-drawn wagon. The greetings were profuse. When Jacob was introduced he was embarrassed by the knowing smiles. Ah, Max Mendlebaum had made a
shiddach
, a match. This handsome young
boychik
had been embraced for his carving ability alone? Nonsense. Then the ladies’ heads turned to Lotte, who sat to the right of her grandmother as Jacob sat at the other end next to Mr. Mendlebaum.
Soon the notions of romance were forgotten, and more pressing conversations of news and gossip began as the wagon bounded along the country road.
Jacob sat rigidly, all too aware of Lotte, but the constant conversation distracted him and made time rush by so rapidly that before he knew it they had arrived at the campsite. The wagon came to a halt and everyone disembarked.
Jacob had never seen anything quite so magnificent as the wooded area. He looked up and saw the trees silhouetted against the sheer blue sky. White clouds floated by. He accompanied the others to the clearing surrounded by a meadow and, putting down the baskets, he walked to the edge to look out into the distance. With a feeling of reverence he stood in the peace and tranquillity. Never had he known such a moment, but it ended all too quickly when he heard Lotte saying suddenly, “
Bubeleh
wants you to come and eat.” Without another word, she turned and walked away. He followed her.