CHAPTER 13
The next seven days were the most tumultuous of Abra’s life. The week started off with a visit to Jacob and Miriam and ended with visits to Noah and Rachel. On Saturday, Abra couldn’t eat breakfast, the meal she deemed essential for mental and physical energy. Every muscle in her body seemed contracted and cramped. She was preparing her body for backward time travel to 1990.
Adam drove to Coney Island, a place Abra had never visited in her previous life in New York. They got there early and as they drove around, she felt like she was touring another country. Abra commented, “Sometimes New York doesn’t feel like a city with a collection of neighborhoods. It feels like Yugoslavia, with different republics or enclaves, or whatever you call them. Is this Serbia or Croatia?”
It was Saturday so the streets were packed with scurrying shoppers. Many of the store signs were in Russian making it difficult to tell what the people were actually shopping for. And the people looked different from the people in Adam and Abra’s New York. They were built differently, thicker and shorter. Their faces were Slavic, full with pronounced cheekbones and smaller eyes. Some of the women wore scarves around their heads, but not fashioned like the scarves of Moslem or Orthodox Jewish women. And there were women pushing baby buggies, not strollers, but buggies from the 1960’s. There was definitely an aura of a past time and a foreign country.
“We’d better look for a parking place now since it’ll take a while to find something.”
“Adam, I don’t want you to go in with me. I have to do this alone.”
“Why? Are you ashamed of them?”
“No, that’s not the reason, and yes I am ashamed of them. I have to feel that I can say what’s on my mind without thinking of what you’re thinking and whether you think I’m handling the situation the right way. I have to do this alone. Maybe I need the freedom to be Abra Ginzberg again. I’ll be the Abra Ginzberg of August, 1990 and I’ll say what I wanted to say then.”
Adam parked illegally in front of the building where he told her he would wait. It was a high rise, not like the squalid three story building on 17th Street. It was one of five buildings that were clones of each other. Abra was reminded of her visit to Moscow three years earlier where she had seen the endless blocks of grim, Soviet-built apartment complexes, devoid of vegetation or ornamentation reflecting the austerity of Communism. She thought that a Russian must have built these buildings in an attempt to create a little Moscow in Coney Island.
She entered the lobby and looked at the roster of tenants. There it was - Ginzberg. 4-D. She rang the bell and was buzzed up immediately. She took the elevator to 4 and walked down the cinder block hallway to 4-D. She felt like she was walking down a bleak corridor to the electric chair. She knocked at the door and before her hand dropped, Jacob opened it. He had aged more than 17 years in the last 17 years. His hair was completely gray, his face heavily etched with worry lines, and he was even more bent over. And now he was wearing glasses that slid down to the middle of his nose giving him a professorial appearance.
“So it’s you.” He opened the door wide ushering her in. He pointed to the dining room where Miriam was seated at the table. She was perched on a chair, just as she had sat on a kitchen chair during Abra’s 18 years in Queens. She was smoking a cigarette and flicking ashes into an ashtray overflowing with ashes and butts. The room was thick with wispy stratus clouds of smoke and the stench of long-ago smoked cigarettes.
Miriam changed too from 17 years, but her change was an attempt to stop time. Seventeen years ago she had undyed mousey brown hair and wore little make-up. Now her hair was dyed tar-black and teased into a stiff beehive. She had rings on each of her fingers, and on her ring fingers, she had large diamonds, or maybe fake diamonds. Abra didn’t know enough about jewelry to tell if they were real. Now Miriam was heavily made up with a greasy golden pancake base, blush applied to her cheeks like two perfectly round apples, blue eye shadow with sparkles, and flaming red lipstick. She was even wearing false eyelashes which she couldn’t possibly have put on with her uncoordinated fingers weighed down by the rings. Abra could only recall her wearing lipstick because that was all Abra wore until she went off to college. Miriam looked like an old woman desperately trying to look young and attractive, but without the benefits of plastic surgery, a stylish haircut, and expertly-applied make-up, she looked like a pathetic clown.
Miriam glared at Abra, and spewed forth a diatribe, “You look like a fancy lady, but you’re still a shithead to me. I hear you’re a doctor and take care of morons like Rachel and Noah. You don’t look like you did when you lived here. You look fansy smansy, If you’re so rich, how come no nice jewelry like I got?”
Also seated at the table was a middle-aged woman who contemptuously stared at Abra. As Abra turned to her, she introduced herself. “I’m Tatiana. I live next door and I help take care of my close friends here. I do what you should be doing. I’m their best friend. I would do anything for them. I love them like family. I’m here to protect them from you.” Tatiana’s English was heavily accented showing her Russian origins. She was decorated much like Miriam with rings covering her fingers and the same make-up coating her face.
Abra looked around the room and saw a plastic world. Everything was covered with the marvel of modern chemistry, the upholstery of the dining room chairs, the sofa, and the living room chairs. A bowl of faded plastic fruit sat on a plastic tablecloth on the dining room table. There was even a plastic runner from the front door to the balcony door. On 17th Street everything was allowed to age and get dirty. Here the aging process was arrested by modern miracle of plastic. Miriam was using plastic the way she used make-up.
What was most different though about this apartment and the 17th Street apartment was adornment. There was nothing decorative back in Queens. It was barren, perhaps because of the fear that Noah and Rachel would damage whatever might brighten up the apartment or perhaps it just reflected the desolate way of life in the Ginzberg house. Here everything was covered with glass and china chatchkas. There was a set of six glass shelves against a wall covered with miniature china animals. There were more chatchkas on the coffee table and end tables. They had created a zoo of porcelain, but they probably had no idea what a real panda or a real dolphin was. There were pictures on the walls of calm rural scenes, but no pictures of family members.
Jacob said, “So what do you want? Did you come to get money? You know we’re going to get a lot of dough from the home and the city.” He raised his voice, “And if you think you’re getting one penny, you’re nuts. You don’t deserve nothing.”
Abra said, “I didn’t come for money. I don’t need your money. I don’t want your money. I came to see you after 17 years to find out how you’re doing. I suppose you know there’s going to be an article in the paper about you and I wanted to see you before I saw the article. I’ll probably be in the article too since the reporter who wrote it tried to contact me.”
Miriam erupted with rage. Under the make-up, her face turned maroon and her voice dripped with venom. “Don’t you know how much we hate you? I never wanted to see you again but Jacob made me let you come. Where were you when we needed money? You only come around now when we’re gonna be rich. Not a penny for you, not a penny. You always thought of only yourself. Everything was always for Abra. Nothing for Rachel or Noah or us. I’ve hated you from the second you were born. I wish I could have killed you when you came out of me. I can still remember the pain and the blood. I was in labor for 24 hours with you. You almost killed me and what kind of kid did I get for all that. The lousiest person in the world. Get out of my house you fucking bitch.”
Abra caught her breath trying to relax her breathing, but she couldn’t. Here was her biological mother telling her that she wished that she had killed her. How could any mother even think thoughts like this? How could any mother harbor so much vitriol?
Jacob put his hand on Miriam’s arm to calm her, perhaps fearing she would strike Abra. “Wait a sec Miriam
. Let’s tell her what happened after she left us. They took Rachel and Noah away because you left. They said we couldn’t take care of them. If you was here, they wouldn’t take them away. You should have stayed to take care of them. Rachel would have lived with us. She wouldn’t have died. It’s your fault that she’s dead. If she was home, she wouldn’t be walking around alone in no park with a deep lake. Our maidela Rachel died. Oy, my Rachel. I loved her so.”
Abra wondered if he was rehearsing the speech his lawyer had written for him for the trial to get blood money for Rachel. Silently Abra said to herself, “You liar. You never loved Rachel. You never even kissed her. Now you’ve made yourself this angelic father. All so you can collect money.”
First her mother tells her she wishes her dead and now her father blames her for the death of her sister. She felt like she was in one of Dante’s circles of hell. Why was she subjecting herself to this torture? Was she flagellating herself for leaving them? She didn’t speak up as she told Adam she would. She didn’t say what she was thinking. She was Abra Ginzberg again and she was obedient, quiet, and docile.
Jacob continued. “We don’t have any kids anymore. We don’t have you. You died for us 17 years ago. If I went to shul, I’d say yizkor for you. We don’t have Noah no more. We never see him. He don’t want to come here. He says we hit him. We don’t. We just make sure he behaves himself. They keep him with the other nuts in that nut house. If they take him for a walk and he drowns, we’ll sue everybody again.
Bubbe and Zadde used to stick up for you and say you needed a life. What about our life? You needed to take care of us. You shoulda stayed here and lived with us.”
Miriam chimed in. “You owe us. We’re gonna get money from the home and the city, but you should pay us too. I know you’re rich. You’re a doctor. You owe us because you didn’t take care of us. You owe us for killing Rachel“
Abra looked from one to the other in their plastic world. She saw herself living here today and knew that if she had stayed, she would have killed herself. She would have broken one of the china chatchkas and slit her wrists until all the blood drained from her body. The bitterness and hatred polluted the air more than Miriam’s cigarettes. She knew she didn’t kill Rachel, but to hear them blame her for it was heart wrenching. She wasn’t even going to bother arguing with them about that. It was no use.
“Don’t you want to know about my life? Don’t you want to know what I’ve done for the past 17 years?”
Miriam’s eyes were brimming with hatred and anger, but also fear. There it was. Fear like a trapped animal. She was afraid of Abra because she knew the real Miriam, the one under all the rings and make-up. She knew all the things Miriam couldn’t do. She was afraid that Abra would tell the world about her and she would be institutionalized or put in a group home like Rachel and Noah. That’s why she was glad Abra was out of her life. She was petrified Abra would expose her to the world and tell everyone that she couldn’t even wipe herself when she peed. She would tell the world that all she could do was eat and watch TV and hate.
“Why should we give a shit about you? You were always the snob. Even when you was little. You was the smart one and we was all the dummies. You knew everything. You always got the A’s. Every time you looked at us, I knew how you felt. You hated us for being stupid. That’s how God made us. What could we do? Do you think we wanted to be dumb? We wanted to be like everybody else and go in the world and not be locked in that shitty apartment all day. I wanted to go shopping and buy things.”
Abra didn’t want to respond, but words poured out. “Being dumb was no excuse for not loving us. You never loved Rachel or Noah or me. Every time you looked at us, you looked at us with hate. You never smiled. You never hugged or kissed us.”
“What the hell was there to smile about? Living in that pigsty with crazy kids. Being poor. Having a cripple of a husband who couldn’t support us and was dumb like his kids. Never having nice things. No jewelry, no car, no fur coat. ” Her voice dripping with sarcasm, she said, “Sure, I should have laughed, not smiled. Ha-ha-ha.”
Abra changed the subject. She couldn’t stand the painful words. “What are you going to do with the money you get?”
Miriam’s face lightened up as she joyfully said, “It depends on how much we get. The lawyer says we can get 3 million. Then we’ll move to Florida. Tatiana’s coming with us. She’ll help us get a fancy condo on the beach. We’ll buy her a condo next door so she can help us with the shopping and stuff. We’ll get a svartza to do the cleaning. We’ll get a white Cadillac convertible so Tatiana can drive us around to the beach and the fancy stores. We’ll shop for fancy clothes and jewelry. We’ll drive to Atlantic City and stay at one of those big casino hotels and win lots of money.” Miriam sounded like Wendy when she said she wanted to marry one of the stars of a Disney program and move to California. Miriam was a child who was being given a pot of gold to squander.
“How do you like my jewelry? I bought this stuff even though we ain’t got the money yet. Manny the guy with the jewelry store on the corner sold ‘em to me. He told me I could pay him later when I get the money. He’s not even going to charge me interest. This diamond is two carats. Ain’t it gorgeous? I bet you don’t got anything like this you fancy schmansy scprinca.” There was the answer to Abra’s question. The jewels were real.
“What about Noah?’
“What about him?”
“Are you taking him with you to Florida when you move?”
“Nooooo. We can’t take care of him. He’ll stay up here with the other retards. I don’t want people to see him.”
Abra winced at Miriam’s language. Nut house. Retards. How ironic for Miriam to use these words, especially retard, which was what she was.
“When did you last see him?”
“At the funeral.”
“Don’t you visit him?”
“No. We can’t travel.”
“Have you been to the cemetery to see Rachel’s grave since she died?”
“What’s to see? She’s dead. That’s the end.”
Abra looked at them for the last time. She knew she did the right thing by leaving 17 years ago and she knew she would do the right thing now and leave forever. Silently she got up and went to the door.
“Where ya going? We got cake and coffee. Don’t you want some? We spent money to buy a nice coffee cake and you’re not even going to eat it? Are you walking out like you did before?”
Abra thought to herself, no it’s not like it was 17 years ago. Then she was running away to find a new life. Now she wasn’t running away. Now she had a new life waiting downstairs in a black Mercedes.
She took the elevator downstairs and got in the car. She was quiet for a while and then said, “Adam, I did the right thing by coming here, but I can’t talk about it now. Let’s talk about it later.” They drove back to Manhattan in silence. She felt like she did when Miss Benjamin picked her up and drove her to Jackson in 1990. She needed complete silence so she could etch every word and every scene into her memory.
When they got back to their apartment, Abra went in the library. “Let’s talk in here. It’s the right place to talk about the past. Adam, in a way, I wish you could have seen them. My father is old, older than his years. He only has Miriam and she blames him for their situation. Poor Jacob. What a life he has. But most of all she blames me. I don’t know who’s to blame for their situation. Maybe God. I don’t know why He created her.
My mother is so cruel and unloving. She’s vile. She wished that she could have killed me when I was born. Can you imagine a mother saying that to her daughter? I never thought it was possible to hate someone so much. Maybe I hate her so much because she is my mother and she’s supposed to love me. She has no maternal feelings. Her retardation extends to mothering. Zero maternal quotient. Zero MQ. I don’t hate anyone else in the world other than my mother. When I look at her I don’t see any physical resemblance and I think maybe I got switched at birth. Then I l
ook at my father and I see myself reflected in his face. I can’t deny that her dirty genes are comfortably ensconced in each and every cell in my body. I can never really get away from her. I just have to make sure no one gets those genes in the future.
They’re so excited about the money they’re going to get from the lawsuit. They’re planning to move to Florida and get a Cadillac. They can’t even drive. They think the money will make them happy. They’ll never be happy. They have this Russian svengali who’s taking care of them. I’m sure she’ll take care of their money too.
When I look around this apartment and at you, I know I did the right thing. Look at the life I have. It’s pure joy. If I hadn’t left, I would have lived in their world of hate and I would have caught it, just like the flu. I would have been consumed with hatred for everyone and for myself. I really think I would have killed myself. I would never in a million years think of killing myself for any reason other than being trapped in that jail of hatred.”
They sat quietly on the couch for the next hour with Adam’s arm loosely draped around her shoulder. At 4:00 Abra spritely said, “O.K, time to get on with our lives. Let’s take a walk in the park. Then let’s go to a movie and get pasta at Luigi’s. And then let’s come home and make passionate love. Hey, let’s do that backwards. Let’s start with the passionate love”
On Monday of that week, Abra went to Grove Park School to sign a contract for her position as psychologist of the lower school. She met with Sarah and the two began building a bond that would last a lifetime. Sarah loved Adam and now she was learning to like Abra for herself and not because Adam loved her. Abra read everything on the history and philosophy of the school and then started in on the records of the 30 children who she would be serving. It seemed to be a small caseload, but not when she considered the severity of the learning, behavior, or emotional problems of each of the kids. Also, she knew that the parents were paying hundreds of thousands of dollars of tuition for services individualized for their child’s needs.
She explored the room that would be her home away from home. There was a small table for testing and an area with toys, puppets, dress-up clothes, and books for therapy. Her clean desk was facing a blank wall. She needed to personalize this room with pictures for the walls and lots of plants. She had to get a picture of Adam for her desk. Neither of them had pictures of each other. They were going to his parents’ house on Montauk for July 4th and she hoped they could take some pictures of themselves to start building a digital record of their lives together.
On Tuesday, she planned to start a schedule of exercising. She was going to a local gym to see if they had the facilities she liked. As she was about to leave, the phone rang. It was Adam. “Get the Post. The article is in there.”
“Is it bad?”
“You’ll see.”
“From your answer and your tone of voice it must not be that bad. I’ll call you back after I read it.”
She walked to Starbucks and picked up the Post. She was curious about what she would see, but she wasn’t afraid. She was prepared. Adam had prepared her last December on the night she had visited Miss B. in the hospital. On page 3 there was the article showing pictures of Rachel, her parents, and Tatiana Lermentov. Why Tatiana? She read the article and started to laugh. There was a big expose, not of Abra, but of Tatiana who was the sister of one of the crime bosses of the Jewish Russian Mafia in Brooklyn. The article posed the question, “Who is really going to get the Ginzberg money – the Lermentovs or the Ginzbergs?” Amy Forbes had found a juicier story than Abra, she had the Mafia. Abra laughed hysterically. People turned to look at her making her laugh even louder.
As soon as Abra finished the article, she called Adam who was with a client. Cindy, his secretary, told Abra he would call her back in an hour. Cindy and Abra were becoming close phone friends. Cindy said, “Abra, you sound happy?’
“Cindy, I’m ecstatic.”
Abra toured the gym and as she was walking home, her cell rang. “Can you believe there was nothing about me? Our hotshot investigative reporter found a better story than little old Abra. Adam, I’m so relieved. I know my secret may come out one day, but so what? So what?”
That night when Abra and Adam were dining on chicken kiev that Abra made using a recipe from one of her cookbooks, Abra said, “I’m ready to see my siblings. First Noah. He really has no one in the world. Our parents deserted him. Worse, I deserted him. They say that they can’t travel to see him, but I know it’s because they don’t care about him. Maybe I can be his big sister and maybe it’s time for me to see if I can salvage something from my screwed-up family. I saved the name of the group home where he lives from the article that was in the paper last September. Will you go with me to visit him? I want you to see what the Ginzberg genes for retardation look like.”
“Of course I’ll go. Let’s go there this weekend.”
“There’s something even harder I have to do. I need to say goodbye to Rachel. I need to visit her grave.”
“Wow, when you decide to do something, you go all out. We’ll go this weekend too, if you want.”
On Tuesday, Abra went to Adam’s office. She knew Adam had a busy professional life that she knew little about. Even though he spent time talking to clients on the phone when he was with her, most of his time on the weekends and evenings was free, although his telephone time was not. She didn’t know much about what he actually did. She never asked. She was always talking about her kids and their problems. Now she wanted to focus on him and his profession. She wanted to know all about him when he wasn’t with her. She knew Adam’s inner life, but she didn’t know his work life.
Adam was eager for Abra to see where he worked and he wanted her to meet everyone at the office. At 11:30 she entered the glass doors of Benjamin, Stein, and Benjamin. The Stein was for Milt, Arlene’s brother. Their son, Matt, the Scientologist, couldn’t join the firm since he hadn’t completed college.
Abra was greeted by an attractive, blonde receptionist. “You must be Abra. We’ve all been so excited about your visit. I’m Elaine.” They shook hands and Elaine led Abra past a maze of offices until they reached the end of the hall where there were two offices. To the right was Seymour’s and to the left Adam’s. Both were large and attractively furnished, probably by a decorator specializing in law offices as shown on TV programs. Adam’s degrees, licenses, certifications, and photos with public officials covered every inch of the wall behind his desk. Adam came to meet Abra and hugged her.
“This is where I spend my days finding ways for rich people to get richer.”
Seymour heard them and came in to hug Abra and welcome her. Adam led Abra to the office next to his to meet his right hand, Cindy. Abra was taken aback by Cindy’s appearance. She was extremely obese. Abra spoke to Cindy everyday and had a preconceived picture of her based on her cute name and her high pitched voice. She pictured a tiny cute 20 something instead of a 300 pound 40 year old woman. Adam had never mentioned her appearance. He had only talked about how competent and devoted she was. She hadn’t gone to college because she came from a poor family, but he felt that she was bright enough to have gone to law school. That was her Adam – always focusing on people’s assets.
For the next hour Adam showed her around and introduced her to the lawyers, paralegals, and administrative staff members of Benjamin, Stein, and Benjamin. Adam knew all about each one…their families, their interests. And everyone seemed to know about Abra, even her new job. After a whirlwind tour, there was lunch for everyone in one of the conference rooms. It was catered by a local deli and there was even Dr. Brown diet cream soda.
That evening, Abra said, “Adam, I was so impressed with everything about your office today. In fact, I was rather overwhelmed. You’re so good to everyone who works for you and everyone seems to respect you and really like you. There’s something I can’t understand about you. You’re always happy. In the six months I’ve spent with you, I’ve never seen you angry. Do you ever f
eel anger? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you in a bad mood. Are you human?”
“No, I’m superjew! I do get angry usually at work when I have to deal with idiots, especially other lawyers. I get angry at unreasonable clients who refuse sound advice. I get angry at the system. But I never show my anger. I always keep it under control. I talk to myself. I ask myself what can be gained from showing anger. In 99% of the situations nothing can be gained so I cover it up, but it’s still there. Fortunately, it doesn’t eat at me. Any anger I bury seems to disappear when I get out of the situation even if I don’t resolve it the way I want to. I don’t get angry at everyday things or people in my life. It’s just not worth it.”
“God, that’s a formula for good mental health if I ever heard one.”
“I’m rarely in a bad mood. I do get very anxious. I’m sure you’ll see it sometime. Like before a big event, like maybe a wedding. I was a basket case the months before I got my acceptance letters from college, and then law school, and then the results of the bar exam. Ask my parents what I’m like when I’m anxious. I drove them crazy imagining that I wouldn’t get into any school and I’d end up at a community college or I’d have to go to a low ranked law school or I’d have to retake the bar over and over again. Or I’d never pass it and all my years of school would be wasted. Of course, none of this happened, but my wild imagination conjured up all these scenarios and I couldn’t keep them out of my mind.
But the most anxious time of my life was the two months from the day you came to see Aunt Edith in the hospital to the weekend in bed at your apartment. I thought I might lose my mind. When I saw you at the hospital, I fell in love with you as an adult, not as a lovesick kid. I didn’t know if I would ever get you to love me. How do you make someone love you? I kept imagining that you would find me ugly or not good in bed and you’d find someone better. I imagined myself pining for you for the rest of my life. I saw myself as a male version of Aunt Edith. But when you said you loved me, my bad mood miraculously vanished and hasn’t been back yet and hopefully never will be. Ask my father and Cindy about the mood I was in for those two months. First, they thought it was because of Aunt Edith’s death, but then they both realized there was more, especially my father. After I came back from our marathon weekend, my father said, ‘Now I know what’s been bothering you. You’re in love.’”
The next day, Abra made two phone calls, the first to Wakefield Home for Adults where Noah lived, and the second to Beth Zion Cemetery where Rachel was buried. She found the cemetery by going back to Rachel’s obituary and then she googled it to find its location.
When Abra called Wakefield Home for Adults, she spoke to the resident manager explaining that she was Noah’s sister and wanted to visit him on Saturday. She asked what Noah might like as a present. The manager said that he liked coloring books and markers so she bought three coloring books and a huge packet of washable markers at the nearby drug store. Abra was edgier about seeing Noah than she had been about seeing her parents. She had no idea what he would be like or what his reaction to her would be. Maybe he wouldn’t know who she was. Maybe he would be angry at her for deserting him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see her. She felt no guilt about not seeing her parents, but she did feel guilt about not seeing Noah all these years. She had abandoned him.
They readily found the group home in a racially mixed residential neighborhood down the street from a mosque. A resident came to the door after they rang the bell, and asked who they wanted to see. Before they could answer, Noah came running to Abra. He threw his arms around her neck and said, “Abra. My sister. Abra. I love you. I love you.”
She didn’t know if he had recognized her or if the resident manager told him that she was coming. Here was Noah, now well over 6 feet tall like his dad, heavier than 17 years ago but still thin, and with no acne. Noah had a huge grin on his face. He looked so happy. At last he had a sister. At last he had a family.
“Noah, how are you?” Abra said as she tightly hugged Noah.
“Fine. I miss you. I didn’t see you for a long time.”
“Noah, this is my friend Adam.”
Noah extended his hand and said, “Glad ta metya.” Someone had taught Noah social skills since Abra had last seen him.
Adam warmly shook his hand and said, “I’m so glad to meet you buddy.”
Noah said, “Buddy, buddy, buddy.” He savored the word as he repeated it.
They went into the living room and gave Noah the coloring books and markers. He immediately started working on the Spiderman coloring book. As he tried to color within the lines, he said, “I’m good at coloring in the lines. What color is this? Red?”
Adam and Abra stayed for lunch, grilled cheese and overcooked carrots, prepared by some of the higher functioning residents. Noah folded napkins and then correctly placed them and silverware on the table. After lunch, they took a walk in the neighborhood. When they got back, they sat on the porch swing. Noah looked at Abra and said, “Sing Twinkle.” Abra was astounded. He remembered their nightly ritual. She was sitting in the middle of the swing and she put her arm round Noah on one side and Adam on the other and sang “Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky.”
Noah said, “Again.” She sang it five more times and then said, “Noah, it’s time for us to go, but I promise we’ll be back to see you again. I promise. Would you like to go to the zoo next time?” Maybe it wasn’t too late for Abra and Noah to have a childhood.
“Can we see elephants? I never seen elephants.”
“Yes Noah, we can see elephants.”
“Bye bye, Abra. I love you. Bye buddy. I love you too.” He couldn’t recall Adam’s name. He was Buddy. Adam would always be Buddy to Noah.
They were both silent on the ride back to Manhattan, but not silent for the same reason following Abra’s visit to her parents. They were content because they realized that Noah was happy. He was living in a place where people were good to him and tried to meet his needs. They knew his life would have been horrible had he lived with his parents.
Adam said, “We will go back. You do have a family. You have a brother.”
“Do you see why I don’t want to have children? I don’t want to pass on those faulty genes.”
“Abra, it’s not the time to talk about that now, but I want to say there are lots of tests to determine your genetic makeup. We could research them and go to the best doctors. But that doesn’t matter because we know what happens if you smile first and we would smile first if our kids were normal or retarded.”
That one statement was all Abra needed to love Adam forever.
The next day Abra and Adam drove to Beth Zion Cemetery, one of the urban cemeteries cramped with graves reflecting the cramped lives of the people when they were alive. They stopped at the gate house where they consulteded a ledger listing the names and locations of everyone buried in Beth Zion. They found Rachel’s grave in the outer reaches of the cemetery next to a fence with a view of the auto repair shop next door.
There was no gravestone for Rachel only a marker with her name, birth date, and death date. Rachel had brought flowers which she put at the marker. Following Jewish custom for visiting a grave, Adam found a rock and placed it next to the marker. Then in fluent Hebrew, he recited kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. Abra didn’t know it so she bowed her head and murmured, “God protect innocent Rachel.” She promised herself that she would learn the prayer so that she could say it in the future when she returned to visit Rachel. She also knew that she was ready to visit Edith’s grave, and she wanted to be able to greet her in Hebrew, the language of God.
“Hello Rachel. It’s A-B. Sorry I didn’t visit you sooner, but I’m here now. I’ll always be here. This is my friend Adam. I wanted him to meet you. Can you forgive me? I wasn’t a sister to you after I left, and now I will never see you again. Forgive me. Oh my Rachel, forgive me.” She sobbed. Adam enveloped her in his a
rms.
As they drove back, Abra said, “I’m going to get a headstone for her. What do you think I should have written on it?”
“How about twinkle?”
“Isn’t that too long?”
“They could use small font. You’re the only one who has to read it. Or you could just use the first line. You could decorate it with stars.”
“Maybe the tombstone maker can draw several designs and we could decide. Adam, do you think we should get a double plot at a cemetery?”
“Does that mean you want to be with me for eternity?’
“Yes.”
“Is that a proposal?
“Yes.
# # #
About the author: I, Esther Minskoff, am a retired professor of special education. At James Madison University, I trained teachers to teach students with learning disabilities, mental retardation, and emotional disturbance. I authored two major textbooks in the field of special education: Teaching Reading to Struggling Learners and Academic Success Strategies for Adolescents with Learning Disabilities and ADHD, both published by Brookes Publishing. This is my first endeavor at writing fiction. I’d love to hear from you. Contact me at
[email protected] Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends