The theft seemed to have passed unnoticed. But then two weeks later, Mrs. Hubermann discovered that her ring had disappeared, and she burst into tears. All the old people demanded that a worker named Paulina be fired, because stolen jewelry had already been found in her possession. Paulina was summoned to Elsa’s office, and she swore by everything dear to her that she hadn’t stolen a thing. But her oath didn’t help her this time, and she was dismissed. Before leaving, she cursed the residence and the Jews who had plotted against her. The two janitors took hold of her the way they had gripped Sonia and threw her out.
From then on Blanca stole money and jewels, quickly slipping them into her hiding place. Sometimes at night she would go downstairs and fondle them. “I’m not stealing for myself, but for Otto,” she murmured like a slave woman. Contact with the stolen jewels restored to her a moment of joy.
45
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.
46
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.