“‘Give me!’
“His Yiddish was crude. His eyes darted around. Black knobs on his face, bruises and cuts. His flesh was covered with wounds. I reached into my clothes. I had no food and was hungry myself, but I still had Ahasuerus’s money. I asked about Feiga.
“‘No woman here. Give!’
“And then, disaster. From the darkness a figure emerged. A Ukrainian guard. Before I knew what was happening, the whip had landed. The Jew fell. Right beneath my window, he disappeared from my eyes. The Ukrainian went up to him and raised his whip. He thrashed and then turned the whip around and beat the Jew’s body with the handle. Another figure came out of the command house. The noise had disturbed the convening gentlemen. The Ukrainian took one step back as an SS officer approached. He looked at me first and my blood curdled. I thought about Yanek’s lion whisper from the ghetto. The officer looked away from me — I was nothing to him. In the dark he aimed his pistol downwards. The pistol was hidden from me, but not the flash of lightening followed by a bang. All beneath my window, a step away from me, on the other side of the door, and I could not see a thing. The SS officer straightened up and examined his handiwork. He turned to the headquarters, where Balshazar’s feast was going on. The Ukrainian went up to finish the job. He dragged the body away, which was then revealed to me. My heart sunk.
“In the dark, in the silence, I stayed shut in the car. I barely noticed Ahasuerus coming out, throwing himself onto the seat next to me, starting the engine, far from my world. He drove the car, cold, quiet, and I thought of Feiga. For a moment I felt angry at her. What was this journey for? The torture. Jews were dying, for God’s sake, and she was holding back. Where was she? Why did she not make an effort, as I was doing, to traverse the distance? A gloom took hold of me, not only anger. I remembered that in the distant days before the war, too, I had sensed a speck of something amiss. My time with her was enjoyable, and she had agreed to marry me, but the balance, how shall I put it…for her I would have run through half of Bochnia, but she? No telling. She had a rich world inside of her, she was quiet, noble. She had many suitors. And yet she had chosen me. That was her way, her world was shut off under lock and bolt, no emotions escaped, no closeness.”
Grandpa Yosef tries to explain Feiga. Ahasuerus can wait. The journey can wait. The Shoah can wait. Now, Feiga.
“You know, long before I was bold enough to speak to her, my entire life was devoted to Feiga. In Bochnia, before she even knew of my existence, I would keep track of her daily routine. She walked down Zandetzka Street every day to visit her friend Gittel. And there, on Zandetzka, lived Jozi, a classmate of mine. Not a smart fellow, not a likeable man, in fact. But every day at three forty-five I would turn up at his house and try to tempt him with stamps to trade. That was his only hobby, and for Feiga’s sake I began to collect stamps too. There was no better place in the whole street than Jozi’s window, where I would sit and wait for her while Jozi crumpled the stamps I had brought, displeased. He would haggle and try to bring my prices down, negotiating back and forth with me, without knowing that it was time that I was buying. Only time. It was not easy to find stamps for Mr. Jozi. Your father used to get hold of some for me, I did not ask how. And I stole from Uncle Marek’s collection. I did business with the Polish mailman, helping him out with our maid, Marushka, with whom he was head over heels in love. It was hard to believe how such a great love was possible for that Marushka of ours. Spoiled and sickly, all she ever did was complain.
“At exactly four o’clock, Feiga would appear from down the street. She walked alone, with a straight back. In her heart she did not address the world, but the whole world turned to her. It was impossible not to join the breeze in the trees, the birds in the branches, the fallen leaves scattering at her feet. I practically flew out the window like one of the birds. If only I could be allowed to roll at her feet. But I did not fly, I was no bird. I leaned out of the window towards her like a deer yearning for rivers of water, and she, innocent and pure, walked along. She was modest and knowing, fully aware of the man swinging between life and death at Jozi’s window.
“Behind me, Jozi annoyingly complained that the stamps were too ordinary. His complaints increased from day to day, and the time came when he declared that he was sick of stamps. Stamps were for kids.
“And in what would the honorable Jozi take an interest now, if not in stamps?
“Jozi giggled. His eyes sparkled like two balls of grease. ‘Nu, you know…’ He rubbed his palms together and the blood pulsed through his face as he pursed his lips. Then he confided the worst. Of all the women in the world, it was Feiga’s name that he uttered. He told me how every day at seven in the evening she hurried down the street outside his window on her way home, and that the little lass looked straight at his window.
“Alarms rang through my head. It turned out I was missing an entire show of Feiga at seven in the evening. I would have to stay longer at Jozi’s, missing one prayer service. Hashem would forgive me. And Feiga was apparently interested in Jozi. If that was true, what good were prayers?
“Imagine, before I knew how many obstacles there were and how difficult it would be. Nu, her family, and mine too, they thought we should wait. And imagine the joy in my heart, imagine how I thanked the Lord, when finally everything fell into place. Feiga agreed to marry me. ‘I will love you,’ she said. What happiness my Feiga gave me. And after the war, as you know, we were married. Almost fifty years of marriage I had with her, and every day was good. And then her strength failed her and my Feiga passed away. I would have liked twenty more years of marriage. I did not have my fill, my thirst was not quenched.”
Grandpa Yosef walks to the end of the hallway. Coffee. Ahasuerus’s car drives on north through low fields and creeks. Little villages. A flat landscape.
Grandpa Yosef has left a few words behind:
“For one moment there, while the Jew’s body was being dragged away and I waited in the car for Ahasuerus, I felt some anger at Feiga, as if the prolonging of this journey was her fault, and the sacrifice of the Jews was unacceptable.”