Until the Dawn's Light (16 page)

BLANCA’S LIFE WAS
now submerged in a rigid, impermeable schedule. Shadows clung to all her steps. Once she saw two gendarmes at the entrance of the old age home, and she was sure they had come to arrest her. She was also afraid of the janitors, and of bringing compote to the old people at night. Since Sonia’s departure, Blanca was apprehensive about breaking any of Elsa’s rules. In the past she had sat with the old people, helped them, and stolen food for them. Now she did her duty and departed. A feeling of uncleanliness, similar to what she had felt after her marriage to Adolf, stained her again. She bathed immediately upon finishing a shift, but the feeling didn’t fade away.

Elsa grumbled and threatened to bring the police to make a search and interrogate the staff. Aside from Paulina, who had been fired, there was another worker who had once been caught stealing cheese, and suspicion was now directed at her. No one knew what Elsa would do. After her shift, Blanca would flee to her room and curl up under the blanket.

On the weekends Blanca would return home and surrender her wages to Adolf. Then she would rush to bathe Otto and dress him. Blanca tried to do in one day what a mother does in a week: she washed his clothes, took care of him, and amused him, and on Monday morning she bathed him again and hurried to the railway station. Because of a change in the schedule, there were no more night trains, and so Blanca was no longer able to return home for a few hours during the week. On Saturdays they let her leave at eleven, and she saw Otto by the late afternoon.

So the summer passed. In the autumn Otto began to cough a lot, and Blanca brought syrup for him from Blumenthal, but the cough didn’t go away. When she wanted to take him to Dr. Nussbaum, Adolf commented, “You’re going to doctors again.”

“Otto’s coughing a lot.”

“We all cough, and nobody dies.”

Blanca spirited Otto out to Dr. Nussbaum. He examined Otto and determined that the cough was serious and that if it wasn’t treated, he was liable to catch pneumonia. Blanca raced straight to the church from the doctor’s office. After the service, a lot of guests came to the house, and she served them sandwiches and drinks. Eventually they all dispersed, and Blanca remained with Otto.

“Mama,” Otto called out clearly.

“What, dear?”

“Sit next to me.”

“I’m sitting.”

“Don’t go away.”

“I’m not going away.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what, dear?”

“Do you have anything nice to give me?”

“I have pudding.”

“Don’t go away.”

“I’m not going.”

Blanca sat and looked at him. A golden light poured onto his face, and he looked like the baby Jesus in the long painting above the altar in church. His face was pure, and his lips were closed tightly in concentration.

“Otto.” The word slipped out of her mouth.

“What, Mama?”

“Nothing.”

Just then the sun went down, and shadows were cast on the walls. Blanca hid her face in her hands, as she had done in her childhood when the fear of death assailed her.

A WINTER WITHOUT
snow blew over the vacant lots near the old age home. The janitors were busy chopping wood most of the day, and their tight faces grew darker. Aside from their work in the courtyard, they did Elsa’s other bidding: they informed on the other workers and on the residents. But Elsa still didn’t trust them fully, either, and she punished them more than once. The janitors took it in stride. “Life isn’t worth a penny,” they would declare.

Several times Blanca was about to go down to the laundry, remove the jewels from their hiding place, and free herself from the nightmare. In her sleep she saw herself dragged off in handcuffs. Since Sonia had left for the east, Blanca’s life had no horizon or words. She worked from morning till night and was afraid of every shadow.

Sometimes, in the railway station, Blanca would meet a friend from high school or an acquaintance from the past. Those brief encounters left scratches on her heart. On her last trip she had met a friend from elementary school, a girl from a simple family who hadn’t excelled in anything and who also stuttered. The boys used to pick on her, and she would crouch in the hallway and cry. It was a muted, broken sobbing that sounded like a stifled whimper.

“Mina!” Blanca called out. She ran to her and hugged her. Mina hadn’t changed much. Her face was narrow, and her lips trembled a little. Now, too, speech cost her much effort.

“Surely you’re continuing your studies,” said Mina.

“No.”

“But you did so well.”

“I got married.”

“The teachers were so proud of you, and they always used you as an example.”

“They were exaggerating.”

“In my eyes you were a symbol of perfection,” said Mina, hanging her head.

They sat in the station café, and Blanca told her that since her wedding she hadn’t opened a book. She was working in the old age home in Blumenthal, and a woman from the country was taking care of her son.

At the end of the winter, Otto came down with a high fever, and Blanca took him to Dr. Nussbaum. Dr. Nussbaum examined him and directed her to have him hospitalized immediately, so Blanca went to Blumenthal to ask Elsa for leave without pay. To Blanca’s surprise, Elsa was generous this time and authorized her leave without saying a word. She even wished Otto a full recovery. Blanca was so moved that she stood up and said, “Thank God that good and generous people help me.” Then she went to take leave of the old people. They also rose to the occasion, collecting a tidy sum and including some dried fruit and a box of candy. Blanca was so embarrassed she could only say, “I can’t find words to thank you.” Then she left. In the buffet car on the train she drank two brandies and fell asleep. She dreamed that she heard Mina saying, “Nothing can help us, sister, unless we overcome our muteness. Muteness is what paralyzes us.”

Otto was burning with fever, and from day to day his condition worsened. Dr. Nussbaum didn’t leave his bedside, and at night Blanca would sleep next to him and dampen his lips. In her nightmares she saw her mother sitting in a wicker armchair. She was young and was wearing a poplin dress. That was how Blanca would sometimes find her when she came home from school. Blanca usually brought good news, and her mother would say with restraint, “If only the good angels would stay at your side.” It was as though she were suspicious of happiness. At the time Blanca wondered why her mother couldn’t just be happy. Now her meaning had become clear to Blanca: all those years ago she had been anxious about her daughter’s fate.

THE FEVER WEAKENED
Otto, and his face was as pale as chalk. Dr. Nussbaum didn’t conceal his opinion: “For the moment, he mustn’t be removed from the hospital and you must be at his side, watching over him.”

“And what about my job?”

“They’ll have to extend your leave. I’ll give you a medical certificate.”

Blanca set out for Blumenthal right away to ask Elsa for additional leave. At that cold, clear afternoon hour the tranquillity of the winter’s end wafted from the low neighboring houses. She remembered that time of day from years gone by, and the memory seared her.

When Blanca reached Blumenthal and asked for an extension of her leave, Elsa’s face soured and she said, “We can’t extend your leave, and the choice is up to you.”

“Please, show mercy.”

“Mercy isn’t the issue. It’s order.”

“I’m lost,” Blanca whispered to herself.

Elsa rose from her seat and said, “Don’t pity yourself too much. No one owes you anything. You chose what you chose. We have to suffer in silence without making a fuss.”

Good God,
Blanca said to herself.
There’s some justice in her meanness
.

Blanca went to her room to pack her clothes. The room was in darkness and still full of Sonia’s presence, as if she had left behind some of her essence. It was palpable, spread over the table and the two chairs.

What should I do now?
she asked herself.

You have to go downstairs and take the jewels
. Blanca heard Sonia’s voice, plainspoken and without a trace of sanctimony. Blanca was fearful, and Sonia spoke again.
You have to go downstairs without hesitation. Otto’s life is more important than the Ten Commandments
.

Blanca knelt and bowed her head. She felt for the first time that she was in the hands of forces more powerful than she was. Then she went downstairs to the laundry room. The darkness struck her in the face, but she easily found the hiding place. She shoved the jewels into her coat pocket and went upstairs to say good-bye to the old people.

Finally she went over to Tsirl. Tsirl put her hands on Blanca’s head and blessed her. Blanca didn’t understand a word of what she whispered. After the blessing, Blanca kissed her hands and walked to the door.

Tsirl stopped her. “Where are you going, dear?”

“My son is very sick, and I’m going to him.”

“You have nothing to worry about, daughter. You have good protectors above, and God who cures the Jews will also cure your son. What is his name?”

“Otto.”

“The good Lord will watch over all the Jews and over him.”

Blanca didn’t move. The wings of the blessing hovered over her, and afterward, too, on her way to the train, she still felt the soft touch of the words. But later, when she was close to Heimland and felt the weight of the jewels in her pocket, she got up and stood next to the window, exactly the way her late father had done when all hope was lost and despair had gripped him.

When Adolf heard that Blanca had been dismissed, he seethed with rage and slapped her face. Blanca burst into tears. Her weeping inflamed his fury, and he heaped words on her: “Just not to work, just to sit in the house, just to feed your weakness.”

“I’ll keep working,” she said, trying to mollify him, but it didn’t work. He stamped his feet.

Blanca worked in the hospital now. On Sundays she would come home, hand her wages over to Adolf, and prepare refreshments for the guests. Her mother-in-law, who came to visit Otto, said, “Otto’s sick again. What will be with him? There’s something out of order in him. He’s sick all the time.”

Blanca looked her right in the eyes and said, “Dr. Nussbaum says he’ll be a sturdy young man.”

“Let’s hope so. But I can’t see it. Doctors always make promises and never keep them. By the way, Blanca, you should change your name. A name like yours is an obstacle.”

“Father Daniel already gave me a name.”

“When?”

“After the baptism.”

“So why don’t you use it?”

“It’s strange to change your given name.”

“What’s strange about it? If the name is harmful, you have to change it. In two or three years Otto will be going to school. Everyone will know right away that his mother’s name is Blanca. You don’t have to display your defects. By the way, what name did Father Daniel give you?”

“Hilda.”

“A nice old name. In the village where I was born, that was a common name.”

Otto was very weak and barely opened his eyes. Dr. Nussbaum came to see him several times a day. Blanca didn’t move from his bedside. Now she remembered her mother and said to Otto, “If you swallow the pill, you’ll feel a lot better. There’s nothing easier than swallowing a pill.” Those soft words rang in her ears with pure clarity.

Meanwhile, Celia returned from the mountains. Her face was round and transparent, and filled with wonder. Her simple nun’s habit made her look taller. She spoke softly and listened intently. Sometimes she asked a question.

“I’m bound in fetters, and I don’t have the strength to loosen them,” Blanca said to her.

“What do you mean, Blanca?”

“I’m living in a prison, and I stopped counting the days that I’ve been in captivity. Every day closes in on me more. I had a good friend in Blumenthal, but she went to the east. I would gladly have gone to the Carpathians, but I’m married and I have a child.”

Celia’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

“I can tell you that ever since Grandma Carole died, I’ve felt a strong attraction for the Carpathians. Maybe the mountains will give my soul back to me. I feel that the soul within me has fled.”

“And you wouldn’t want to come with me to the mountains of Stillstein?”

“Churches don’t love me,” Blanca replied.

After parting from Celia, Blanca sat in the hospital corridor, and to her surprise she felt that a hint of strength still fluttered within her. She rose to her feet and approached Otto’s bed. His sleep was quiet now. That night he felt better, and the next day he opened his eyes.

ONLY NOW DID
Blanca see how much the malady had changed Otto. He had grown taller. His face glowed, and the words in his mouth were clearer.

“The disease has passed,” Blanca told him, “and in a little while we’ll go home.”

“I want to be with you.”

“I’ll always be with you,” she said and kissed his forehead.

Otto knew more than she imagined. He knew, for example, that the job in Blumenthal had been exhausting and that Elsa had mistreated her, that Kirtzl wasn’t his aunt, that Grandma and Grandpa came every Sunday, drank cognac, and grumbled. He’d evidently taken in a lot during his few years. Blanca was astonished by the abundance of words he’d collected.

“I’m afraid of Kirtzl,” he told her.

“Why?”

“She walks around the house without any clothes on.”

“She’s apparently used to that.” Blanca tried to distract him.

Otto’s recovery breathed a new energy into Blanca. She was hungry and ate whatever was served, and at night she sat and talked with Christina. Her life, which had seemed as though poised on the edge of a steep slope, now seemed to have been given a reprieve. An old, youthful strength coursed through her legs. In her heart she knew that hard days were in store for her, but fear didn’t deter her. At night, lying on the mat next to Otto’s bed, she would wander off to faraway lands with him, sailing on boats and struggling through flowing currents.

Blanca didn’t imagine how close at hand the solution was.

Before she left the hospital, Dr. Nussbaum told her, “Otto has recovered, but he needs to be watched over. Don’t put him in the care of that peasant woman. If there’s any need for my intervention, notify me right away.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You have to be a brave woman.”

“I promise,” Blanca said, and she was glad that those words had emerged clearly from her mouth.

When Blanca returned home she found Kirtzl sitting in the armchair, dressed in a housecoat. Her full face had gotten even fuller.
Your job is over,
she wanted to say.
You have to go back to your village, and I’ll stay with Otto. Otto is recovering, and I have to watch over his recovery
.

Kirtzl seemed to guess her thoughts. She rose to her feet, and with a peasant’s cunning she said, “Welcome. Otto, why don’t you say hello to me?”

“Hello.”

“Is that all?”

Blanca didn’t know what to say and sat down. The confidence she had felt earlier evaporated. Once again iron walls surrounded her, stifling her into muteness.
Dear God,
she said to herself,
I went to grade school and after that to the municipal high school. Why can’t I say a single sentence
?

“Are you going back to work?” Kirtzl asked after a silent pause.

“No. They fired me.”

“And what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you looking for another job?”

“I’m not looking. I don’t have to look,” said Blanca, and her fingers trembled. Kirtzl apparently sensed her anger. She turned around, went into the bedroom to get dressed, and when she came back out she said, “I’m going home. The food for Adolf is ready in the pantry. I’ll come back next Monday.”

The heavy smell of butter stood in the air. Blanca remembered that when she was in elementary school, the country girls used to spread butter on their hair. She had suffered from the smell but never complained about it.

When Adolf came home, he said, “You have to find work right away.”

“I’ll go and look,” she replied, to avoid contradicting him.

“On Monday, first thing.”

I have to suffer a little more,
she said to herself, without knowing what she was saying. Only at night, in her sleep, did the meaning become a bit clearer. In her dream she saw Grandma Carole brandishing a long knife like a sword and calling out loud, “Arise, sleeping fathers, from your slumber, arise and save me from the apostates. I declare war and await you. Only with you can I defeat that great camp. Come, together let us break through the locked doors of the synagogue, so that the God of Israel will be revealed in all His splendor.”