All Whom I Have Loved

25

Mother returned toward dawn. She took off her clothes, put on a nightdress, and lay down next to me. I turned my back to her so she couldn't look at me. I didn't like it when she looked at me or hugged me.

In the morning she hurried off to school and barely kissed me. I remembered the long summer vacation we spent together on the shores of the Prut, and my heart bled. Now, instead of that closeness there were just some blurred patches of memory and a feeling of uncleanliness.

Sometimes I felt that Mother wanted to crawl out of her skin and come back to me, but she was trapped inside the movements she had picked up from André. She called them her flexibility exercises. But it was hopeless — they really didn't suit her. She must have been exercising with him, or who knew what. I, at any rate, made my peace with the fact that she was no longer my mother. I was very upset that she pretended that nothing had happened and she said, “In the winter we'll travel to the Carpathians and we'll go skiing.” I hoped that in winter I'd be very far from her and her lies.

In the meantime, the rains ceased and low mist-like clouds crawled between the houses and the alleys; the wetness seeped into everything. I wanted to go into the café and sit amid the tobacco smoke, as I used to sit with Halina not so long ago. Halina had said something to me then that stayed in my mind: “Jews are hardworking and that's why they do well.”

“And will I also do well?” I hastened to ask.

“I don't doubt it for a moment,” she said, and chuckled.

She also laughed when she told me about injustice and pain.

Without being aware of it, I had reached the hospital. The forecourt was empty, but beneath the awning the homeless and the drunks had gathered. They immediately spotted me and shouted, “Here's the Jewish dwarf!” I was surprised; I had never been called anything like this before, and I wanted to laugh, but I understood soon enough that it wasn't a joke. A stone was thrown, and it hit my thigh. I wanted to run away, but my legs told me to seek shelter in the building, and that's what I did.

“How is Halina?” I asked the man at the information counter and waited for his usual answer.

“She is no longer in pain.” He leveled his gaze at me.

“Is she better?”

“She's already in heaven,” he said, and removed his cap from his head.

I did not know what his look meant, and I stared at him.

“She's already in heaven,” he repeated in a soft voice.

I then understood, but I didn't want to understand. “She's still sleeping?” I asked.

“She's already with God, my child. She can no longer suffer. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.”

“The good Father will look after her.”

“Thank you,” I said in utter confusion.

“For something like this we don't give thanks,” he said, and looked away.

I went quickly down the staircase and crossed the forecourt. It started raining again, and I felt the wetness in the soles of my feet, but I wasn't cold. I walked in the direction of the orphanage, meaning to reach the post office. There's an awning at the post office where you can take shelter from the rain. What I'd just heard had already made its way into me, but I did not yet feel it. I was hungry and thought about a cheese sandwich. The post office was full of people, so I immediately headed toward the kiosk where Halina used to buy me sandwiches filled with yellow cheese. The kiosk owner asked me my name, and I told him.

“You're Jewish?” He chuckled.

“True.”

“Do you speak Yiddish?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

There were bearded Jews like him in the synagogue next to our house. He gave me the sandwich and said, “May God bless you.”

I didn't know what to say, so I said, “Thank you.”

The man looked at me and for a moment it seemed that he was about to say, “For something like this we don't give thanks.” The sandwich didn't taste good, but I wolfed it down anyway. It was still raining, and I decided to return home. I was sure that if I went home, I would see that a miracle had occurred.

As I entered the house, I saw no change at all. Mother's clothes were scattered on the bed and on the chest of drawers. Even my few clothes were strewn on the sideboard. I recalled Mother's hasty departure and anger welled up inside me. I took off the wet clothes and felt better. I went into the kitchen and then went back to the bedroom. For a moment it seemed to me that were I to stand still and eavesdrop, I might hear a voice. And then I really did hear Halina's voice laughing and saying, “The Jews are hardworking and because of this, they do well. Ruthenians are lazy and they waste all their money on drink. They don't know how to live. If they knew how to live, they would leave the country.”

There was no doubt it was Halina's laugh. I went over to the window to see if she was in the garden or in the pantry. It was open, and the garden was wet from the rain. There was no one there. A few birds were perched silently on the fence. In the background I saw the clouds and the drunks under the awning shouting at me, “Jewish dwarf!”