The Nature of Love

Chapter 9

Copyright (c) 2014 Phyllis Zimbler Miller

All rights reserved.

Israel and the PLO negotiate on Palestinian elections and Israeli troop redeployment in the West Bank. – Spring 1995

1995

         Memory was a funny thing. We remember what we want, when we want, about whom we want.

        When I was little I would ask my father's mother to tell me about her life in Russia. My Bubbie would sit down in her favorite chair and pull me onto her lap. Then she would describe the cold damp single basement room she lived in with her mother and older brothers in Odessa, waiting for her father to send the ship passage for them.

        I could not ask my mother's mother the same questions. She died before I was born. In fact, I'm named for her. It was her life I wondered about, imagining her trip in steerage from Europe and her quest to become an American.

        The hum of my computer reminded me I had work to do. No daydreaming now. I had to write.

Judith’s Story

Chicago 1911

        Judith held Sylvia in one arm and clutched Lillian with her free hand. Jacob walked in front of them with Chaim, the men carrying the family's belongings tied up in bedding.

       The street sign at the corner said Maxwell Street. Lettering in Yiddish on the shops announced bakers, butchers, fish stores, tool shops, vegetable markets. Sidewalk peddlers shouted from outdoor stands. It was just like Hestor Street in New York – loud, hectic, and familiar.

       "Here we are," Chaim said. He unlocked the door of Chaim's Deli and motioned them inside.

      "Mama, look, Mama, look at all the food!" Lillian tugged Judith forward to peer at the food enclosed in a glass counter. Even Sylvia stopped crying.

      Chaim glanced down at the baby in her arms, his eyes on the child's scar. He stroked the baby's cheek but didn't ask how she got the mark of Cain. Perhaps Jacob had already told him.

      "Come, mein kinder, are you hungry? Let Uncle Chaim fix you something to eat?"

      "Chaim, you are my cousin. The children should not call you Uncle," Jacob said.

      "It is nothing. All the children in the neighborhood call me Uncle. Why shouldn't your children?"

        He lifted Lillian onto a counter stool and placed slices of corn beef onto a plate in front of her.

       Judith shifted the baby to her other arm. She had to ask.  Even if the answer was no, they would still eat. But she had to ask.

       "Chaim, is the meat kosher?"

       Chaim patted her on the back.

      "Of course, my dear. The Golden Land of America has not made me break my promise to my mother. Before I left Russia I swore I would always observe the laws of kashrut."

        "And do you observe all the other laws you followed in Russia?" Judith asked.

       Chaim laughed. "What do you think?"

       His eyes sparkled, even teeth visible under his smile. He certainly was a handsome man.

       "Where will we stay?" she said.

       Chaim motioned for her to follow him.  She handed the baby to Lillian, who popped a piece of corn beef into the baby’s mouth.

      "This is where you will sleep," Chaim said, leading them into a hall behind the store and gesturing through a door to a double bed for Judith and Jacob. "I have the other bedroom. And the children can have the small room off the deli kitchen."

         "You are very kind," Judith said.

        "We are landsmen. It is nothing."

       He turned back to the store and his chest brushed against her breasts. She shrank against Jacob.

        "Was machst du?" Jacob asked.

        "I'm just tired."

       Chaim laughed. "Of course, after such a long trip. Come join the children and eat."

       Judith took the baby from Lillian and stroked the baby's forehead. Sylvia had stopped crying as soon as they arrived here. Perhaps the crying was a protest of traveling and not an ear infection.

       "Let me get you a chocolate phosphate," Chaim said.

       "Was ist das?" Jacob said.

        "English," Judith said. "We must speak English."

       "A chocolate phosphate is chocolate syrup and seltzer water.  Do not worry, it is not milkich."

       Jacob nodded and squeezed her hand.

        "I'll pour some schnapps," Chaim said. "We should say a l'chaim."

        "To life," she said, praying to herself that her children would survive and thrive here in their new home.

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If you would also like to read women’s fiction that takes place in the future rather than the past, check out THE MOTHER SIEGE here on Wattpad at http://budurl.com/MSintro