“Upset!”
“Why are you going on like this?” he asked. “We’re not saying you have to come with us.”
Esther couldn’t get the words out, they were so painful. It was as if they were tearing apart her throat as she tried to speak. Desperately her eyes darted from Harry to Gina, her hands clenched together in agonized supplication. “Gina,” she said hoarsely, her breaking voice just above a whisper, “what about our . . . Alexander?” Sadness seeped from her eyes.
“What about him?” Harry asked.
“He’s got his whole life ahead of him!”
“Exactly. We have to think about Alexander.”
Esther shook her head. And kept shaking it. “He’s just a boy. He doesn’t know anything. He can’t make this decision. You’re making it for him.”
“That’s what parents do. They make decisions for their children. That’s why we are the parents. And they are the children.”
“But it’s wrong, Harry. You will ruin his life. It’s so wrong.”
“Obviously we disagree.”
Digging her nails into the palms of her hands to contain her terror through physical pain, Esther took a small, shaking step toward Gina. “Please,” she said to the pale woman standing next to Harry like a salt pillar. “Gina! I’ve reconsidered all my previous positions. Imagine what a shifting of the sands this is for me. Please forget everything hurtful or hostile I’ve ever said to you, and forgive me. But please—don’t do this. Your son is your ladder to the stars. He deserves better than this.”
“We disagree, Esther,” Harry said.
Gina’s lips were as white as her skin.
“I have helped you before,” Esther said. “You know I will do anything to help you stay here.”
“Yes, you helped us,” Harry said. “But you wanted to help us. We didn’t ask for your help.”
“Your wife did,” Esther said. “She asked for my help.”
“That was without my approval.”
“This will be, too.”
“This? There is no this. There’s nothing to be done.”
“There’s always something to be done.”
“Do you see, Gia?” Harry turned to his wife. “And you think I’m the one who always falls back on Father’s money.”
“Please, Gina.” Esther had to ignore Harry to keep a hold on herself. “Don’t do this. Don’t destroy your son’s life.”
“Esther!” Harry raised his voice. “That’s not how Gina and I feel about the Soviet Union. We are going to live in Moscow. We are starting a new life. Everything will be fine.”
“If you go, you will never be able to come back,” Esther said, addressing only the mute woman before her. “Because of my brother, you’ve lost your American citizenship. Oh Gina! You’re no longer an American, no longer an Italian. What will you be? What will Alexander be?”
“Russian,” Harry said.
“Let her speak, Harry!”
“We’ve told you, Russian,” Harry repeated.
“But he is not Russian.” Esther’s voice was failing. “He is a Barrington. He is not a Pavlov, or a Smirnov, or a Litvinov. He is a Massachusetts Barrington. Gina, your son’s ancestors built this country and this city you say you love.”
“All right, enough,” said Harry. “He is his own boy. He is not a slave. He is not bound by the Barrington heritage. Russia needs young men like him. He is coming with us to help the Soviet Union. They need us a lot more over there, Esther, than the city of Boston needs us.”
“Because you’ve been getting yourself arrested every five minutes! How much will the Soviet Union need you if you say vile things against it every Saturday afternoon?”
“Well, we’re never going to find out. Right, Gina?”
“Gina, I beg you . . .”
“Esther, our mind is made up,” Harry said. “The visas have been applied for, the citizenship signed away, the bank account liquidated. It’s really just a matter of nuance,” he went on, “but we’ve been given the choice of leaving voluntarily or being deported. We took the first option, but because of that, we have to pay for our own passage.” He shrugged. “Gina wanted it this way. Right, darling? If we were deported, true, the government would foot the bill for our relocation, but then it would be very hard to return if . . .”
“You will never return,” Esther said.
“But because Gina insisted on this option,” Harry continued, “we are a little short of cash . . .”
“I will not give you a penny to go to Russia.”
Harry glared at Gina, almost smugly. “What did I tell you? I told you she wouldn’t help us.”
“Not with this.”
“Well, never mind. We don’t need your money. We’ll be fine.”
“I will do anything to help you stay here,” Esther said. “I will pay anyone any amount. You owed money to Domarind? I’ve already taken care of that. Your legal fees? Your apartment? Your debts? I will hire you the best lawyer in the United States to fix this. I will buy you a house.”
“No, Esther,” Harry said. “That’s not the kind of help we need.”
Esther turned to Gina. “I will buy you back Bellagrand!”
The pillar that was Gina swayed.
“Esther, stop! What are you trying to do, bribe us?”
“Not you,” Esther said. “Your wife.”
“My wife will not be bribed.”
Gina said nothing.
“Gina?” said Harry.
“Gina?” said Esther.
Gina said nothing.
“Gina, please!” Esther cried. “Let him go! If he wants to go so badly, let him. You and Alexander stay here.”
A trembling Gina hung her head.
“Esther, we told you,” Harry said. “We are all going to the Soviet Union.”
“Gina, listen to me. I will take care of everything for you. The citizenship thing, I’ll fix it—”
“No!” Harry became red in the face.
“You will never have to worry . . .”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Esther. A loan for the passage is all we need.”
“I will never give you a cent for that.”
“Did you come here to tell us you won’t help us?” Harry scoffed. “Why even come?”
“I came here . . .” Esther couldn’t finish. “I will not be an accomplice to the end of . . .” She stepped toward the silent Gina. “You’re a mother!” she cried in a whisper. “You are so lucky. You’ve been blessed with motherhood. Think of your son!”
Another sway from Gina before Harry’s indignation reached full bore. “Don’t speak to her that way, Esther,” he said. “Don’t talk to her about things you don’t understand.”
“You think I don’t understand what’s happening?”
“I don’t think you do.”
“She doesn’t understand what’s happening!”
“Don’t say she! She’s standing in front of you!”
“Or maybe she understands exactly what’s happening!” Esther was breathless. “Gina, please!”
Harry raised his hand. “Enough. Leave her alone. You always were an apple-polisher, Esther. Always wanted Father’s money. And now that you have all of it, you won’t help us even a little.”
“I didn’t want his money, you imbecile! I wanted him to think about me one-quarter of the time he spent thinking about you—his whole life!” Incensed, she addressed only the trembling woman in front of her. “Are you going to tell me, Gina, that fathers and sons have a special bond? Is that why you’re going to ruin Alexander’s life? Because now you can’t separate father from son? Do you think you can make up for the past? Do you think Harry even knows what a father–son bond is?” Esther laughed. “They hadn’t spoken since the Russo–Japanese War! If it weren’t for Alexander, Father would have died and Harry never would have called him. What kind of a special bond does it require for a son not to come to his father’s funeral?”
“He threw me away,” Harry said. “He
turned his back on me. I will never turn my back on my own son.”
“You’re turning your back on him by trying to kill him!” Esther yelled. “And Father didn’t throw you away. You threw us away. For her!”
“Don’t talk to my wife that way!”
“I wasn’t talking to her, I was talking to you!” Esther clenched her hands into fists, upbringing be damned. “My brother is a fool,” she said to Gina, her frantic, desperate voice hardening. “But you are deluded. You think he will love you if you go with him to the Soviet Union?”
“Esther, that’s enough!”
“No, it clearly isn’t!” Esther lost all composure. “You think because you became an anarchist, my brother married you? Because you spouted inanities about social conditions and market value? Don’t you understand anything?” She uttered a wrenching cry. “Gina, you will always come a distant second to whatever it is he wants first. I know something about this. You’ve been with him twenty-five years. Haven’t you understood that yet? He went to prison, and didn’t care that he left you behind. He promised you a life of plenty and then wasted the only inheritance from our dead mother paying his lawyers so he could spend Saturdays on a soapbox instead of playing hockey with his son and taking you dancing. Look at where you’re living! God knows what else he spent Mother’s money on. And now that he’s run out of options, taken away your citizenship, forced your family into an impossible corner, he has somehow convinced you that life will be sweeter in the Soviet Union.” A mirthless laugh. “And you believe him?”
“Yes,” Harry said, “she does.”
Esther slapped Gina across the face.
“Esther! My God!”
“What kind of a mother are you?” Tears rolled down Esther’s face. Tears rolled down Gina’s. She hadn’t lifted a hand to defend herself. “What’s wrong with you? This is abuse, this is malicious negligence. You should be in jail—for endangering the life of a minor. You are a terrible mother!”
“Who are you comparing her to?” Harry yelled, yanking his sister away from Gina. “Our mother? This mother doesn’t desert her own children!”
Esther gulped to keep herself from retching. She felt physically sick. “How can I not get through to you, brother?” she whispered. She implored the speechless Gina. “How can I not get through to you, a woman, a mother?”
“Get out, Esther,” said Harry. “We’ve had enough.”
What happened to our life, Harry? Esther wanted to say. What happened to our family? There were four of us once, and we had such a full and good life. And one by one everyone has up and flown from me, through sadness, illness, death, lack of love—and now you. You’re the only family I have left. You, your wife, my beloved boy. Once you leave, I will have nothing. You’re going to a dreadful place, yes, but you’re also leaving me, and that feels so wrong. How can you not understand that? Do I have to even say it?
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
She picked up her purse, her hands shaking, her fingers numb, picked up her purse, but not her hat, because she had forgotten to bring one. Very carefully, so as not to trip or faint, she walked across the empty living room, her heels tapping out the uneven rhythm of growing distance on the wood floor, opened the front door, and was gone.
Outside, she slumped against the gate until she felt able to cross Beacon Street to the Public Garden where Alexander was kicking a ball with some friends.
She called for him. He ran to her.
“Are we going?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Esther said. “You have to stay here. But I have to go.”
He looked disappointed. “I promised Teddy.”
“I know. Teddy and Belinda will understand.”
“Can I come next weekend?”
She pushed the hair from his forehead with the tips of her thin unsteady fingers. “I think you’re about to embark on quite an adventure. So I don’t know about next weekend.”
“Dad says not before Christmas.”
“Oh. Well, if you’re right, maybe I’ll see you for the holidays then.” She opened her arms. “Come, give your aunty a hug.” He was such a good boy, Esther thought, letting her embrace him, even though his friends were watching. She held him to her, eyes shut tight, Please please please, don’t let him see me break down. She kissed his head, and took a deep breath.
“Alexander,” she said, stepping away, still holding his hands. “I’m going to tell you a little prayer, a short psalm. Will you promise you’ll try to memorize it?” She even managed a carved-on smile.
He rolled his eyes mightily. “Mom is always trying to get me to remember this or that.”
“She is right to. Now listen: Thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth by noonday, a thousand shall fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near thee.”
Alexander stared into his aunt’s wretched face. “You want me to remember all of that?”
“Yes. Can you try?”
He must have noticed the despair graying her features. He frowned. “Okay, Aunty Esther. Don’t get so worked up. I’ll try. I promise. Later, though. My friends are waiting.”
“Yes, of course. Later. Moses wrote that prayer to help himself during his forty years in the wilderness. Repeat it to yourself, until it is written on your heart.”
Alexander chuckled. “Is that where you think I’m going, Aunty Esther? To forty years in the wilderness?”
“Of course not! It’s just a metaphor. A figure of speech.”
“Which part? The forty years, or the wilderness?”
Esther didn’t reply right away. “I’m hoping both.”
“After the wilderness, what did Moses find?”
“The promised land.” She was barely audible.
“That’s funny. That’s where Dad says we’re going now. The promised land.”
“Live how you wish, Alexander,” Esther said. “Your grandfather would be so proud of you. You are a Barrington. A child of privilege, a child of liberty. The advantage of being born a Barrington is that you have the freedom to choose your path in life.”
Alexander grinned. “Like my father before me, right?”
“Yes, my dearest heart,” said Esther, glancing around for a bench to fall on. “Just like your father before you.”
“Aunty Esther,” Alexander said, lowering his voice, “can you please tell my parents I really want a dog for Christmas?”
“A live dog?”
He gave her a funny look. “Yes, silly. Of course a live one.”
“I thought maybe a stuffed toy?”
“I’m too old for toys.” He smiled. “Except for the toys I leave at your house.”
“Of course. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you.”
“My second request is a Colt I can keep in my own house.”
“You know your father will never allow that.”
“I know. But you could tell them if I’m going to grow up to be a soldier, I need to keep a gun in my house.”
“A real Colt?”
The boy stared at her, arching his eyebrows.
“Of course. I’ll be sure to let them know.”
“My third wish is for a big red sled. Like everybody else has in Boston but me.”
She tapped on her temple. “Got it all right here. Dog, Colt, sled.” Reaching out, she patted his smooth cheek.
He smiled, and ran from her, calling back, “Goodbye, Aunty Esther!”
It was a rare mild day in Boston in December, dry and fine, and the sun was out. She watched him approach his friends, his aunt already forgotten. Goodbye, my darling boy. She cast her eyes away from the bonfire in the day, from the conflagration of all that was most precious to her heart. Everything burned down.
She turned on her fine court heels, out of habit reached up to adjust her nonexistent hat, her fingers fumbling for the invisible
ribbons under her chin, and stumbled out, with blind eyes searching for Clarence, for the car parked somewhere on Tremont Street.
Harry and Gina left Boston with Alexander two weeks before Christmas. The American Communist Party and Gina’s bartered diamond ring paid for the passage to the Soviet Union. They never saw or spoke to Esther again.
Chapter 20
HARRY’S FAVORITE BOOK
WHEN HE WAS PACKING, Alexander found The Man Without a Country, a book he hadn’t read in a couple of years. It had been collecting dust on his shelf. Taking a break from the chore of deciding which of his few things he would take with him, Alexander perched on the bed, opened the slim volume and began to read. It took him no more than forty minutes to devour the story of Philip Nolan and his unfortunate exile. He lost himself in the book, and as he closed it, he heard his parents shouting at him from down the hall. The suitcases had to be packed and ready in two hours. Was he even close?
“I’m almost done!” he shouted, continuing to sit on the bed. When he heard his father’s footsteps, he jumped up and pretended he had been working hard.
“Alexander, your room looks just as it did this morning,” Harry said. “Which is to say unpacked.”
“No, no,” said Alexander. “It’s an illusion. I’m almost ready. I just have to get dressed, and find my Boy Scout tie, and then I can go, I think.”
“You think so?” Harry looked around. “In ninety minutes, whatever is not in your suitcase is not coming with you. It’s that simple.”
Alexander picked up the short story he had just read. “Dad, look at this book I found. Wasn’t this your favorite? Mom told me it was.” He showed it to his father. “Dad, it’s the saddest story. This man hates America, and as punishment he is exiled and when he wants to come back, he can’t.”
Harry took the book out of Alexander’s hands and threw it emphatically in the trash. It made a loud thud as it hit the metal container. “It’s nonsense, Alexander. Tripe and utter nonsense. I was a child when I read it. Little did I know how vapid it was. You’re not taking it with you. Get back to your packing. Please. Your mother will blame me if you’re not ready. Have you looked under your bed for your tie?”