Until the Dawn's Light

7

THAT WAS THE last summer Blanca spent with her parents, and she remembered it in full detail. During the winter her mother became ill, and the doctors promised that she would feel better in the spring. As if in spite, the winter was long, and her mother tried in vain to rise to her feet. Her father promised repeatedly, “In the spring, you’ll get some relief,” and it seemed to Blanca that the tone of his voice was not as it had been in the past. He spoke as though he had rehearsed what he was saying.

In high school Blanca was hugely successful. Once again, her grades glowed on her report card. Her mother took the card in her hands, and the joy that had been on her face during the summer lit it once again.

“There’s an excellent mathematics department in Berlin,” her father announced, as if he were capable of paying for it. The store stood on rickety foundations and barely supported the family. Her father would return home every evening and immediately sit down next to her mother. His look was full of devotion. The store and his partner depressed him to the dust, and only at his beloved wife’s side did he receive some solace.

At the beginning of the next term, the assistant principal proposed that Blanca help Adolf in mathematics and Latin, and Blanca agreed. Adolf came to her house in the afternoon, and they did their homework together. The work was very difficult for him, and when he left the house his face would be red and sweaty, as after hard labor.

“How’s Adolf coming along?” her mother asked.

“It’s hard for him, but it seems to me that he’s improving.”

Sometimes her mother would address him directly.

“How are you, Adolf?” she would ask.

“Fine, thank you, ma’am,” he would say, blushing.

Adolf did do his homework, but he failed the oral examination in Latin. Dr. Klein had no pity on him, and at the end of the term he gave Adolf a failing grade. Dr. Weiss, the mathematics teacher, was more generous and gave him a barely passing grade. Blanca tried to soften his disappointment, but Adolf was angry. It had always been the case, he argued, that the mathematics and Latin teachers had mistreated him. In the other subjects, he did fine. Blanca didn’t correct him. She saw his shame and felt sorry for him.

“The Jewish teachers hate me,” he said, chuckling.

“Dr. Klein converted in his youth,” she pointed out.

“Why does he have a Jewish name, then?”

Blanca’s father didn’t know how to relate to Adolf.

“That boy has no human manners,” he would say. “A tree will grow from a tall boy like that, not a human being.”

“You mustn’t talk that way,” her mother scolded.

“Short people know their place in the world; the big ones always get confused.”

“I refuse to listen,” said her mother, blocking her ears.

That was the way her father used to joke. Sometimes he would describe people grotesquely, but he would then retract the descriptions and excuse himself. Her mother knew his little weaknesses but still didn’t let him get away with it.

“Ida, you’re terrible.”

“Why?”

“Not even one generalization?”

“Generalizations are worse than prejudices.”

“You’re right. I give in.”

This was one of her father’s ways of teasing that Blanca liked to hear.

Spring came, and Blanca’s mother felt better. Her father would take her easy chair out into the garden, wrap her in a blanket, and sit by her side. Her weakness wasn’t evident in their home. The house was spotless, aired out, and filled with her gentle spirit. Blanca would return from school and tell her mother every detail about her day. Her mother would listen intently, to avoid missing anything. In the evening they would all sit and talk. But sometimes a frightening billow of sobs would burst forth from Blanca. Her mother would rush over to her and comfort her.

So the spring passed. Blanca’s mother continued to feel better, and in the evening she would water the garden and take pleasure in the flowers and the lilac bushes that adorned their small yard.

“Mama,” Blanca would call.

“What, dear?”

“Let me give you a kiss.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

That spring Blanca was very sensitive, and every movement alarmed her.