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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
A trip to the countryside
The sun sank rapidly, predicting more sweltering days. The horse and buggy glided on the tiled pavement toward Radosc, a suburb of Warsaw, a mere two dozen miles away, Laibl and Jacob gaily whistling to its rhythm.
Upon arriving they unloaded, unfolded the iron beds, cots, and erected a workbench for their father.
Tomorrow the rest of the family would enjoy the fresh air and wide open spaces. The children would play in the grass, wade in the brook, swing in the hammocks.
Back home the place never seemed too big. Jacob missed the noise, little Estherl’s jibbering, laughter, the romping of the others; the silence was distracting.
One afternoon an unexpected visitor arrived – Mother.
"What are you doing here, checking up on us?" asked Mayer.
"No, I want to know how you are doing. You are grown, but are still my children, and I missed you."
"How is everything in the country?" asked Laibl. "How is father? The little ones? Do they like it there?"
"Oh, yes, the countryside is good for them. Father has stopped coughing, he has color in his face. The fresh air would do you good also. … That is the reason I am here.
"I want all of you to be with us for a week or two, especially you Yankele, you look so pale."
"No, I am busy. Let Mayer go, he needs the country."
"I can’t go, Laibl needs me. You go," he said. "You don’t have any work at all."
"Then Yankele, we’ll expect you by Saturday," Mother said. "You’ll stay with us for a couple of weeks."
"No! If I go, it will be for a week only."
For eight days Jacob was pampered, slept late, had breakfast in bed – was treated like a king.
Toward the end of the week he became restless. The calm countryside, its serenity, was good for older people and little children, but not for him. He longed for the big city, the smokestacks were his air, the multitudes rushing, the bustling reverberation of the metropolis was music to his ears. He missed his friends, especially Esther.
The next Saturday Jacob was at the main station, Srulik and Avrum waiting.
"How did you know I was coming today?" he asked, shaking hands with them. "I didn’t telephone you."
"Don’t be funny," Srulik said, ridiculing. "You don’t know what a telephone is, let alone how to dial one."
"You are right; nevertheless, I am thrilled to see you. But where is Moniek? I hope there is nothing wrong."
"He is all right. He just couldn’t make it. He is busy."
"How come? There is not that much work on Saturday."
"He didn’t say that he works," interrupted Avrum. "What he means is that he is busy with Esther; remember her? He gave her a bracelet. He is kind of engaged to her."
"He engaged to her? What a laugh! I was away for eight days, and behind my back my best friend takes my girl?"
"How can you say that?" asked Srulik. "As far as I know, she was never your girl. True, she went with you for a while, but that meant nothing. She wanted somebody to rely on, someone steady, and there was Moniek more than willing."
"So that’s it! That double-crosser engaged to her. He, who didn’t respect girls from the Krochmalna."
"Forget about it," said Avrum. "Let’s go home, have a game of dominoes and forget about it."
"Not now. I have a lot of thinking to do."
Back at the store, Laibl was working, Mayer nearby.
After a concise report, Jacob retreated. Overcome with jealousy, he was confronted with a dilemma. Now, on the brink of losing her, he realized how much he missed her.
"Take her back, she is yours, take her back before it’s too late …" an inner voice kept urging.
"No, I can’t! What can a tailor boy offer her? Romance, love? Fiery kisses? That is not enough. She deserves more, much more. She needs security. This I cannot give her, because my responsibility goes first and foremost to my family. I can only offer her misery, and that she has enough of."
"But Moniek is also a tailor. He earns even less than you. What made him decide?"
"Because I am practical," Jacob argued in his soliloquy. "Because he is the youngest. True, he has no father, but his brothers are successful businessmen, not depending on him. But most important – I love her. When I’ll be a success, then.…"
"By then it might be too late," an agonizing thought warned him.
He was never a success. He loved music, that was his secret ambition. Music became his closest friend, his great love, soothing, caressing. …
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