Beyond the Pale: A Novel (19 page)

It was dawn when Elihu came back, exhausted, cut and bleeding. He kept looking at my mama, at all the children. Shendl washed him from the bucket, gave him a little shnaps and a piece of dry bread.

“This was just the beginning,” he said. “They’re going to be back as soon as they wake up from their drunken sleep.”

“But what about the army?” Shendl asked.

“The army! Who do you think organized this? There are bands of strangers all through town. The seminarians lead them—you think the army is going to do anything? They just sit on their horses and nod. I guess they’re supposed to make sure only Jews get hit. I’m going to meet the Bundists on the other side of the quarter. We will try to keep the mob out of here if we can.”

“Stay here with us, Elihu,” Shendl begged. We were all calculating how it would be, another whole day in the chicken coop.

“I can’t. You’ll be safe here. Don’t worry, I’m just a shlemil, and you know it’s impossible to kill a shlemil, especially one who’s trying to get himself killed.

“Elihu—”

“You know I’m joking, my wonderful wife. I’ll be careful, you’ll be careful. We’ll get through.” Then he remembered and looked at my mother. He cleared his throat, looked out the window, looked back.

“Mrs. Meyer, I have to tell you.”

Mama didn’t say anything. We drew around her, Esther on one side, me on the other, Sarah in front. She looked straight at Elihu.

“I saw Rabbi Meyer.” Still Mama didn’t say anything. No one even sighed. My mother’s knuckles got white as her hands dug into Sarah’s shoulders. “The barbarians found him in the shul. They wanted to make an example of him. I’m sorry.”

At first I didn’t understand. When Mama asked, “Where is he?” I thought maybe he was at the police station or in the hospital.

“In the marketplace. We had to leave his body there until this is over.” Elihu put his hand softly on Mama’s arm. “He was a good Jew. You know what they say, ‘If God lived on earth, all His windows would be broken.’ This is that time.”

Esther started to scream. Mama turned to her slowly, like a mechanical doll on a music box, and slapped her face.

“You have to pull yourself together,” she said. “We must endure the bad with the good. This is a nightmare. Tomorrow we will find your father and do what has to be done. Now we have to stick together. You understand?”

Esther sucked her tears in. Mama turned to each of us. “You, Chavele? You, Sarah?” She turned back to Elihu. “I appreciate your honesty, Reb Rubin. I hope you will be safe today.”

“With God’s will.”

“With God’s will.” Mama looked away as Shendl kissed Uncle Elihu goodbye. We might never have seen him again, either. The cousins couldn’t look at us anymore because Papa was dead. Now no one protested about getting back in our tiny hideout. We took all the food there was, a pail of water, the cleaned-out chamber pot, and closed the door behind us. The Angel of Death had his cold hand squeezing around our hearts so tight that the closeness of the chicken coop was somehow a comfort. Last night we couldn’t wait to get out of our prison. Today it felt like home and none of us wanted to be more than an inch away from the other. We were connected by blood, urine and feathers.

Only seven o’clock in the morning but already we could hear the yells starting in the street. Sometime near midday the screams and yells were closer, horrible. I forgot my father for a minute. All of the cousins looked at each other. The littlest boy, Yankl, started to cry. Shendl covered his mouth. Yankl took in a couple of deep sobbing breaths and then quieted. I kept my hands in fists in my skirt pockets. I couldn’t see anything from the crack in front of me. The screams came closer.

“What are they doing to her?” I asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Shendl said. “Whatever they’re doing, you don’t want them to do it to you. Hush.” There was a baby’s wail. Then it stopped and a woman screamed, “Then kill me too!” Then highpitched screaming that must have come from the mouths of demons, and men laughing and shouting. Something happened to Mama. Her eyes got glassy, as if she was going to faint. Shendl put a wet rag on the back of her neck. Mama coughed and blinked, then pressed the same rag against all our foreheads. Esther was squatting with her back against the wall, her hands over her ears. Cousin Aviva was holding Esther’s arm. Rebkah was leaning on Aviva’s shoulder. Reuben was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, as if he were an old man, davening. Then we heard footsteps and someone yelling “hep, hep!” almost next to our ears. The regular door of the chicken coop was opened. None of us breathed. The chickens screeched and clucked.

“Nothing in here but dinner!” some man yelled, and I could hear the chickens gurgle as they were strangled. Everywhere things were breaking, falling, crashing. I wanted to sneeze. I looked up, expecting to see my papa hovering above us in a band of light, but there was only the tar roof of the coop. There was a whoosh and some man shouted, “On to Asia Street!” As the sounds of their boots faded, there was a new smell. Smoke.

Shendl, who had been up against the door—they should kill her first before they touched her children—was out in an instant. Flames were beginning to consume the buildings and for a minute we were transported into stillness by our shock. The courtyard looked like the gate to gehene. Had we died in the chicken coop? Was this our punishment for the pride we had in our lives, to see life wrecked and burning before us? None of the houses had doors, one had a whole wall missing. In Shendl’s house every window was broken, the doorway full of shattered furniture. Chamber pots and candlesticks poked out of the sea of feathers. Blood, mud and smoke were everywhere. Mama took the rag she had used on our foreheads and placed it over Sarah’s mouth. On the far side of the courtyard I could see bodies lying in strange positions. Mama put her hand on my cheek and turned me away. Flames were sliding up and down the wooden houses like water.

“My candlesticks!” Shendl was already mourning the little bit she had.

“Candlesticks don’t burn. Later you’ll look for them. Come.” Mama pushed Shendl forward softly, but Shendl turned and clung to her, unwilling to give up the closeness of the coop. For a second my mother lay her head on Shendl’s shoulder, grief fighting with resolve. Then resolve pulled her back.

“All right—we’ll go by the alleyways to my house—at least the stone won’t have burned and the mobs should be past it. Chava, you know the alleys—you go up front with Shendl.”

Reuben was insulted. He was the oldest boy after all. “I know the alleys too!”

“Okay, Reuben, you be the scout then.” Mama pulled a long kitchen knife out of her skirt. I had never thought of Mama as fierce like that.

“Guarding the rear is important too,” she said brushing the hair out of my eyes. Shendl nodded. She too had a knife hidden in her skirt and she moved up to join Reuben. Esther had Sarah by the hand in front of the twins.

“This way is blocked by fire!” Reuben called back. The only other route cut past the market. For a moment Mama’s eyes clouded over and she paused, as if she’d seen a demon. I thought it could have been my papa’s spirit. Terrible feelings were moving through Mama’s body the way fire pulsed across a bed of coals. She drew a breath and called encouragement to the front of the line, motioning me to move ahead.

We made our way through the smoke and debris as if the Cossacks were at our backs. I was covered with a cold, stinking sweat. The older cousins helped the younger over metal bed frames and piles of broken dishes, and Esther did the same for Sarah. Way ahead of us Aviva stopped in front of a body, frozen, but Rebkah grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. I stayed just in front of Mama—we were going slower, watching out for the rest. There were little flames sputtering in piles of garbage. When I got to the corpse that had stopped Aviva I could see it was a dead woman, most of her body covered by fallen stones, but something was wrong with her face—I looked a little closer, not too close. Oh God, she had nails in her eyes. I turned away into a doorway and threw up. I felt Mama’s hand on my back.

“Come Chavele, we can’t get separated from the others.”

I sucked air deep into my stomach, but that made me cough. Mama wiped her sleeve against my face and pushed me forward. The others were at least two blocks ahead. I could just make out one of the twins turning the corner that led into the market square. I heard men yelling. With my head tucked down I ran towards them like a bullet. As I came into the square I heard two men scream, “Stop, zhids!”

“Who are you calling a zhid?” I screamed back. They turned around and chased me instead of Shendl and the children. They were wearing layers of stolen coats and I could run much faster. I ran out the other end of the market. On Alexander Street there was a mob going through the shops, dragging away anything of value that was still left. The men in overcoats joined them, forgetting me. I darted in and out of side streets, back to the marketplace.

Shendl and Mama should have been almost home. There was a circle of men beside one of the dead bodies and then I saw Mama, standing in the middle. Papa, she must have found Papa’s body. Why did she have to stop? She could have gotten away with the rest of the family. Maybe she tried. Maybe she just looked down and there he was and then the men came.

I ran behind a row of carts. From between the spokes of a wheel I could make out my papa’s torn face, and the men surrounding Mama. Mama didn’t look at them. She was looking at Papa.

“What’s the matter, zhid? Some old man you know?”

“Maybe she was his mistress!” One of the men poked another and they laughed. My stomach knocked against my ribs with a terrible pain.

“Now, zhid whore, you’re going to know what real men feel like!”

Mama’s jaw clenched. She pulled out her knife and struck the closest man across the cheek. His hand let go of her, rushed to his face. She used the moment to thrust the knife into another one’s side. She looked like Judith leading her army, except there was no army. She was alone inside a circle of a dozen men. She pulled the knife out, aiming at the closest.

“Damn zhid!” one of them shouted, while another grabbed her from the rear and pinned her arms behind her back. The knife fell onto the cobblestones. A tall blond man passed a metal flask to the injured ones.

“Some spirit!” one said. “She must be part Cossack. Zhids don’t fight back!” He laughed and she kicked at his legs. “All right, that’s enough from you. We’ll find out what kind of zhid you are!”

The men pushed Mama to the ground and tore off her wig. It landed in the dirt beside Papa’s leg. She didn’t scream. My stomach heaved but there was only bile now, and I swallowed to keep it down. I pressed my forehead against the wheel. My hand got a little splinter. I stared. A little splinter. Finally my mother yelled. I thought the sky should crack open and God himself should pull her up, away from those men. She yelled two, three times, and then all I heard was the sound of the men grunting, “It’s my turn!” “No, me!” I didn’t know how long they kept doing this. It was starting to get dark. One of them yelled, “You fools are raping a dead Jew! C’mon, there’s plenty more live ones!” The one on top of Mama jumped up, pulled up his trousers and ran off following the rest of the band.

I stayed behind the wagon. Maybe I would just stay there until I turned to vapor and disappeared. I pressed the splinter into my palm. Esther and Sarah needed Mama. I should have gotten them to chase me, to kill me instead. What good was it for me to stay alive? It was dark and cold and I was crying for my Mama and Papa. I wished I could remember a prayer for this. I wished I knew something to do besides cry but I couldn’t stop.

From somewhere in the city came a gunshot, then the sound of horses in the street. Who knew how long it was? After awhile there was quiet, the kind of sick quiet when everyone was afraid of cholera. I wanted to go out to my parents yet I couldn’t seem to move. I put my hands against my forehead. When I pulled them back, I saw a bubble of blood around the splinter. I hardly felt it. Maybe I was dead too. Maybe this was what it was like to be dead, in the in-between place where you wait for God to call. I slumped back against the wall and shivered. The dead didn’t shiver, at least I didn’t think they did.

I heard a kind of clucking noise and looked up. An old woman, a Jewish woman, with a babushka and a torn shawl tight around her shoulders, was leaning over my mother and sighing.

“Moyshe!” she yelled, and a man came over.

“It’s Rabbi Meyer and his wife Miriam,” the man said. I could see he was crying too, tears falling into his beard. “We’ll get the cart over here as soon as we can.”

“No, don’t touch them, don’t touch them!” Suddenly I was beating my fists against the man’s chest. Too late, I was too late. The woman came over and put her hand on my head while the man held my fists.

“Little one, it’s all right now. The murderers are gone—the pogrom is over.”

“Don’t touch my Mama. Don’t touch my Mama!”

“Her mama!” The old woman started crying. The man released my wrists and the woman embraced me. My whole face and chest were soaking. “There are other children, little one?” My breathing was hard and ragged. I told her my sisters and cousins were at my house.

“I’ll take her home,” the woman said to Moyshe. “Don’t worry,” she said to me. “This man is a good Jew. He knew your parents. He will do everything right for them. The righteous will be in heaven. Time brings us wounds, but time also heals them, you’ll see. Don’t look anymore. Come, I’m taking you home now.”

She walked slowly, lifting up her skirts to keep them from the debris. I picked up Mama’s knife and cut my finger on its edge. Sharp, but not sharp enough. I saw a drop of my blood fall on a cobblestone. The old woman glanced at me and said nothing. My arms hung by my sides, the flat edge of the knife slapping my calf through my skirt. It was dark. Only a few of the gas lamps were lit here and there. We made the long walk back to Mama and Papa’s stone house. I felt exhaustion on the underside of my skin, pressing at me, pressing in and out at once.

A Fiddle
Roughly Bowed