The Journey Back (13 page)

“I told you it was worth that much,” she said laughing. “Didn’t I? I haven’t been wrong yet, Ies.”

“No, you haven’t.” Father would rub his and comment on the cooking smells. “Even they’re i a miracle, Magda.” They’d be in any minute now.

I made a last check of the table. Yes, yes, no-a nasty ‘spot on the serving spoon. Quick, polish it on my dress. I’d like meals if I could serve myself, but I never took enough food, Mother said, when she ‘had let me.

wasn’t my imagination as Mother kept tern rig .. had red lines across my stomach when I took off my skirt at night. The kitchen door opened.

Dinner did smell good. She was a wonderful cook. Only I wish she’d listen to me when I said, “No more, please.” Carefully I put the serving spoon back on the table, handle toward Mother’s plate.

Christmas vacations everywhere were going to be very short this year. We had already missed so much school that we shouldn’t have any vacation at all, the principal stated. That made everyone laugh, a little suspiciously though. What if he meant it? He didn’t. “Enjoy your few days,” he said. That really ma us laugh. Well, then, I could do a lot, make plans as sore, of the kids already were under their breath. I could, ask someone to my house. Yes, that would be hie, I thought about it for a minute. Jamie? She w too old. But there was Selma. I could learn to Ill her. After all, we were in the same class. She mig even be very pleased to get away from the boys. They were always teasing her, especially Kees. Even when there was hardly any snow, he’d wear himself out collecting some in his bare hands, just to put it down her back. She never knew what to do. Shrieking, waving her arms, didn’t stop him. I glanced out the window for a second. There was already enough snow on the ground for her to be buried in. She’d be happy to come to my house.

Early in the afternoon maybe, on the first day of vacation, she’d come.

We’d make a snowman in our garden-a big round one, with arms. And I’d ask Mother to let us have things to dress him in. We’d have a little tea-afterward, to warm up. Maybe Mother would make it, call us when it was ready. “Annie, come and bring your friend.” Yes. And offer us a cookie-homemade. Selma would love that, she’d probably want to come again a few days later. Another snoxvman?

I’d see. “Selma,” the teacher warned. “If you don’t stop fooling around, we’ll have to open the school just for you.” Worried, I looked behind me. She was hurriedly nodding yes to a couple of kids, I saw.

Had they already asked? So soon? It was not even three o’clock yet.

Quickly I turned back. I must already be too late. It was all right though. I hardly knew a good time. Nel was not coming home, and Mother had not even been sad. She smiled instead, and said Nel would definitely have made the long trip to our house and given up her parties if Mother had asked. But she had not wanted to. Contentedly I stared at the pencil jar.

“Let us stop for a minute,” churches all over Holland urged people, “and reflect. Last year, our cupboards were bare, our stores empty. Potato soup and a crust of bread were all we had. Whereas now there is an abundance again. Yet, some among us are, for whatever reason, still lacking. Let us be generous to them. Let us give; follow the example of the Americans who, more than any other nation, have shared with us.

Go. Go. And let the light and joy of Christmas be with you.” As the people came out, organ music did, too, solemnly following them as they strode past the stores where the windows were still covered with boards.

But the pieces of glass in the middle were glowing-wherever a street amp was near. On this Sunday they were already lit, although it was not completely dark. Leather belts in De Wind’s Mode encircled a handbag.

Next to them was a cotton dress, a winter coat, and the notice that still read, “For Display.” But they were smiling at the s’gn today, the people, as they stopped to look again, some of the men in real matching suits that had come all the way from America. New ones. Yes, too big, but not for much longer. “Not with all the food we’ll be getting.”

Smiling happily.

The next day, the calm was gone. Early, early, into the streets, coupons in hands, bags on arms. Recklessly people turned comers-but politely.

“Pardon me.”

“Excuse me.”

“Didn’t mean to.” So many special things to be bought, and the day was short. One orange, one ounce of chocolate but six different shapes to choose from, two whole ounces of tobacco, one extra scoop of sugar, one bag of flour, one piece of chicken, and for every family, one jar of brown powder, which didn’t look like coffee but “was the new thing in America,” the grocer assured suspicious shoppers. Twice as many potatoes, a pound of red beets, scouring’ powder for afterward. “I told you people months ago, didn’t I,” Maria shouted, running, too, without her goat. “Radios don’t lie.”

“Look ‘ere, look ‘ere. Buy one. Brighten up your door.” The people ran back to the market i.9 FALL AND WINTER

place. “Sure we want a wreath. So much, so much. Almost takes two to carry it all home.” And the bakers-they gave space in their ovens to people who had none. “Bring us the ingredients. We will do your baking.”

They did even more. Each baker got on his bicycle to deliver a loaf of bread to Mrs. Menko. They knew her biggest wish was to have extra, so she wouldn’t run out of food. “Don’t worry about coupons either, Mrs.

Menko. Just get well completely.” And although we were Jewish and did not celebrate Christmas, we still shared. I went to her house, with a present, walking carefully all the way. “Don’t take your eyes off the box once,” Mother had warned. That I had done … the traffic. But it was all right. I checked every now and then, peeking under the lid.

Still in the middle, the cake-almost. Wait. I wiped my thumb and nudged the slice back to. where it had come from -not a dent, not even a crumb.

Dientje should see. Then deftly I shifted the box to one hand, and knocked on Mrs. Menko’s door. “Everyone is taking such good care of me,”

she cried when she saw me. “Thank you, Annie. You’re wonderful.”

I-wished Mother would say so. It would come; it had to. I had hardly any of my old habits left, the

“Johan-and-Dientje”

ones as Mother called them. “They’ll do for caves, Annie, not for houses.” Johan and Dientje … they wouldn’t recognize me. That neat.

I’d better get going. Mother, she’d want me. “Have a good day, Mrs.

Menko,” I said. She looked so happy. Even with the tears. Softly I closed the door. On now, home. Empty, that box. There,-under the ann with it. Not carefully either, not any longer. Plenty of time to carry it just so. When I came closer … 7From the moment I got up on New Year’s Day, the sky was gray, the air misty, dense. It stayed that way, through breakfast, lunch, dinner, afterward, and was that way now. I couldn’t see anything iq, my room. The clock downstairs chimed, ale yen times. Otherwise, no sound. Father and Mother must be asleep. I dosed my eyes. Was that singing outside? I jumped out of bed, opened the window.

Men’s voices, faint. Coming closer … It was the song of Winterswijk’s soccer team: “Hand in hand we go, friends, For our team can’t be beat.

Words won’t do, scoring we want And that is-” Without waiting for the song to end, someone began all over again: “Hand in hand-” Another voice tried to stop him. “Ten Riet, not yet. We’ve got to stick together.” I leaned farther out. Six yellow beams of light were zigzagging on the road, lighting up wooden shoes. Six pairs, clump-clumping close together. Dark shapes on top of them, zigzagging a little, too, while they finished the song, “What we ge-e-ee-e-ct.”

“I’d better stop singing, fellows. The wife doesn’t like it any more when I’m noisy. Reminds her too much of the son. I don’t want’r hearing me.”

“Ah, Droppers.” Ten Riet’s voice was comforting. “Tonight the wife won’t mind. It’s New Year’s, and the first time in ages

“We’ve been able to celebrate. What d’you care anyway. Who’s she, I say.

Eh? Here we go all of us, “Hand in-”

“Ten Riet.” Mulder’s voice interrupted him again. “You’re not the head of the group now. I am. We just voted, remember, when we were in the car It was unanimous.”

“But next January-”

“So, Ten Riet.” Mulder interrupted. “I’m the one who tells you when to begin, when I say

“Now.” But don’t make it too loud. We’re almost in front of Mrs. de Leeuw’s house.”

“Wait a she tonal The Geerdes father must have a full pipe in his mouth.

“I don’t have my dzjacket on right. My arm znot in k, I don’t think. Ow, Ten Riet, I pricked roy shelf on your neck. What’re you got on.”

“Beats me,” Ten Riet said. “Ja, ja … ja, ja, ja, ja, I feel it now.” I laughed softly. Five flashlights shone on him. “It’s a Christmas wreath, Ten Riet. You must’ve fallen against the caf door. When we came out, maybe. And all you had was the one drink! What’re we going to do with you when we can get more? You tripped over your klompen, too.”

“Pa, when they’re making ‘em again,” a Geerdes son said longingly, “we’re going to get some. I got such holes in mine.”

“How about chairs,” Mulder ydled, “so you can give’m a break once in a while.

Stop it, Geerdes, you’re bumping into me again.”

“Get wives, I say,” Ten Riet shouted. “How old are the boys? Forty-nine and fifty? Eh? Eh?

Eh? Sure. They’re the right age.”

“Where would they sit?” Mulder bellowed.

“Wives these days don’t want to stand on their feet all. the time.”

“They could do what Ies did. Have her bring’r own.”

“They shay it’sh different ins hide not as when we shaw it.”

“She may even have something under the cork.”

“Let’s wishim a Happy New Year.”

“Dammit, who’s she? I say.”

“Let’sh ring the bell.” They shouldn’t, they shouldn’t. Mother wouldn’t undesumd their fun. Wooden shoes rat fling toward the front door Good. I laughed again. Mulder was calling them back.

“I wasn’t the one telling you to go. As your new chairman I say when.

Not this year, we’re not going. We wait until the next.”

There was Droppers’ voice, for the first time in a long while. “But I’m not coming, not to that Jew’s hollse.”

“We know, Droppers, we know. C’mon, don’t cry, not tonight,” They were leaving now. I wished they wouldn’t.

Not sorry about Droppers though …“All right,” Mulder called out, “we can’t be held up by Geerdes’ arm any more. We’ve over waited as it is.

Fldflights straight, toward the ditch. Let me get up front. Let’s go.

Back to the wives and mothers. Tell ‘em what a good time they missed!”

And his voice rang out, carrying everywhere, “Hand in hand we go, friends …” Farther away now, all the voices. Gone, the clump-clumping.

Stillness again, just as before. Nothing left to see outside. No moon, not tonight; no star. The first free New Year … Last year, what had I done then? Sat upstairs, but with Johan, Dientje, Opoe, Sini. We told each other stories, laughed. Rachel? I hadn’t known about her. In her room probably, too, with her ‘family.” And now? Maybe she was in church.

She went all the time now, not just once a year, to a special room, in a wheelchair, women up front-not allowed to look behind at the men in wheelchairs, as the head nurse kept reminding them. And Sini, where would she be now? Don’t know. Opoe, Dientje? Must be home. Johan? On the road with his friends, definitely. Walking into his house, too, now.

“Fni-fni, Johan,” Opoe would! say, shaking her head, “all the noise you made. And just for New Year’s. No, that I can’t see.” Opoe, Dientje, Sini, Rachel, Johan. “What’s Annie doing now?” Were they wondering? “I’m here,” I whispered. I hadn’t really thought about them for so long.

Hadn’t wrirten either. I

would, now. Yes, yes. I closed the window, turned on the light, got out pencil, paper. Wrote.

-8.

“You pay in life for everything,” people grumbled. “Who needed such a mild summer if it gets followed by this kind of winter?” Their faces were worried as they checked the sky. “More snow coming, I don’t care what the paper say That’ll be the fifth storm. this winter.” And they hurried on, newspapers in their shoes. The soles they had been able to get were thin, and standing in line took a long time. When they came home, there were other things to worry about. Their roofs, doors, window frames, were repaired, but look at the way it was done, with parts from destroyed houses. Could fall apart any day … Already they could feel a draft. And the coal man came rarely, never brought enough.

“Don’t worry,” the government comforted everyone. “There will be enough to last all winter. In the meantime here is some advice. Radon your coal at home. It’s betxer to be a little chilly all winter than to freeze before the end of it.”

Obediently people put on all the sweaters they could find and huddled closer to their stoves at night, plopping in only a few coals at a time, just enough to keep the fire going. “Winters don’t last forever,” they comforted each other-and themselves. We sat by our stove, too. Father so close that his feet rested against it. Mother’s, in slippers, were resting on the footstool. Her elbows were buried in cushions. I smiled.

I had put a scarf ext to her, neatly folded, for a little later, when the fire went out and it really got cold. She had not seen it yet. She was too busy with the magazine on her lap, turning one page after another, looking at the pictures.

From the other end of the sofa I looked up, hopefully. Had she noticed it? “Yes, Mother?”

“I’m so glad I sent Nel all those warm things, before I even knew it would get this cold. She must be nice and mug.” I nodded. Yes. “The fun she must be having. Leave it to her. She knows what she wants, and what really counts.” The hand stopped. “She’s getting it, Annie. That’s wonderful. How many people can say that?”

Only one pale yellow flame was left in the stove, slowly licking at a single coal.

“.nnie …”

“What?”

“At least life is turning out to be exciting for one of us.

It’s lucky she’s the one.” A little edgy now. “And it doesn’t matter to me that’ she has no tune for other things or even other people.