Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale Part 28

"Yes. Some of it's even my fault. Just as you can't keep blaming your parents, I can't keep blaming you. I need to get on with my life. I need to stop imagining us in ways that will never be."

"I know."

"You do look great."

"I'm sure you think so."

"I do."

"It's good we talked about it, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, I think it is." Unconvincing.

"At least everything's in the open now."

He nodded, as rea.s.suringly as possible.

"I should be going," Rachel said, looking at her watch.

Usually, she would leave first, and he would wait and catch a different train. He had always thought the precaution silly, but today he was only too glad to steal a few extra minutes of warmth. He watched her put on her scarf and coat. She moved slowly, sadly. She held her hat and gloves in her hand, turned to him, and asked, "Can I still call?"

"You still want to?"

"Yes. I want us to always be friends. Real friends."

"We are."

"And you're not mad at me?"

"No more than I am at myself. I'll get over it."

She put her hat and gloves on just as she exited the door. He ordered another hot chocolate, and thought about their conversation, wondering if he would ever see her again. In his mind he knew he would be okay if he didn't, for he realized he needed to move on. But in his heart, well, that was another matter altogether.

CHAPTER 35.

At a few minutes past 7:00 p.m., Rachel and Binny Frankel finished dinner. Rachel started clearing the table, and Binny went to the closet for his coat. He was heading back to the yeshiva for the evening, and would return in about two hours. He used to love the yeshiva's evening study sessions-a requirement for all rabbinical students-but as of late his preference was being home with his wife.

He came into the kitchen and kissed her good-by. "I'll be home soon," he said.

She smiled. His love for her made her happy, and at moments like this she wished that could be enough. But it wasn't. Having things out with Joshua had cleared the air, so-to-speak, but she wondered if she'd really resolved anything, or if she ever would. She knew she couldn't rid her life of Joshua. She'd given up too much already, too many of her dreams, but the duplicity was killing her.

After finishing the dishes, she felt unusually fatigued. Her pregnancy often made her tired, especially at night, but this was something else. She decided to go upstairs and lie down for a few minutes. She could make her phone calls and tidy up the house later. She walked toward the stairway and began to feel faint. She held the banister as she started up the stairs, but halfway up she felt she couldn't continue. Fearful of pa.s.sing out, she clutched the banister and leaned against the wall. A strange sensation ran down her leg as she reached unsteadily to lift her skirt. She gasped at the sight of blood trailing down to the bottom of the stairs. Petrified, she struggled up to her bedroom for the phone, but never made it.

She awoke in the hospital. Her father, mother, and Binny were at her side. "What happened?" she managed.

"Nothing. You're okay. Thank G.o.d you're okay," she heard her mother say.

"The baby?" she asked.

"Everything is okay, you're going to be fine." Again, her mother's voice.

"But the baby?"

No one answered.

"Oh my G.o.d," she screamed. "Oh my G.o.d!"

"Don't worry," her father said, grasping her hand. "Don't upset yourself. You need your strength."

She read the anguish on Binny's face. "I'm sorry Binny," she cried, "please forgive me."

He reached out and touched her. "It's okay Rachel," he said, fighting his own tears. "Everything will be fine."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she repeated.

Binny and Hannah started to cry.

"There's no reason to be sorry," her father offered.

She was deaf to the world, lost in her anguish. "I'm sorry," she repeated through her tears. "Forgive me!"

They didn't understand, they couldn't understand. Why was she blaming herself? But she understood. Only too well. For it was truly her fault; she had killed her baby, and it was no different than if she had used a knife. Her day of judgment had arrived, and with it the wrath of an angry, vengeful G.o.d. He'd been watching all along, just as she'd always been taught. Nothing is hidden from Him, a fact that had never been so compelling as it was now.

You shall not chase after your heart and your eyes, after the things for which you l.u.s.t.

She had ignored everything she'd ever believed in, and had placed earthly desire above the purity of her soul. And now she was paying the price.

"Forgive me!"

She loathed herself for her iniquities.

"Forgive me!"

She loathed G.o.d for His harshness.

"Forgive me!"

She loathed Binny and her parents for her own inadequacy.

"Forgive me!"

She loathed Joshua for her agony. She would never see him again!

During her first week home, her mood remained unchanged. Her mother stayed with her. Binny and her father were around all the time, and Esther visited daily. Rachel seldom left her room, and didn't say much to anyone. They catered to her and tried to cheer her up, but she was intent on her suffering.

One evening, after about two weeks, she finally came down and joined the others for dinner. She didn't talk much, but it was a good sign. The next day, in the afternoon, she was sitting in the living room with Esther. Her mother had gone marketing.

"You seem to be coming along better," Esther observed.

"I'll be okay."

"I know you will, you've always been the strong one."

Rachel considered the observation. "Compared to whom?"

"Compared to anyone."

"I think you meant something else."

"You're right." Hesitation. "Compared to me, I guess."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that you manage to figure things out and rise above unpleasant situations. I've never been quite as good at that as you."

Rachel raised her eyelids, still curious.

"Well," Esther continued, "you're married-and to a pretty good guy, as far as these guys go. You have a beautiful home, you will have children, you'll have it all. Because you're strong. You know what's right."

"Funny, I always thought I have all this because I'm weak."

"I suppose it depends on how you look at it." Sadness.

A moment of silence. Rachel took Esther's hand. "Tell me, what's happening with you?"

Esther proceeded to confess. It was the first time she'd told Rachel, or anyone, about Stephen Butler and, at this point, things had gotten rather spicy. She had finally managed to attract his attention; it had been a simple matter of wearing the right outfit. Those long skirts and ample blouses hadn't been doing the trick, so she had purchased some s.e.xier apparel at a boutique in the village. She had also found a place to change clothes en route to cla.s.s. She would stop in a coffee shop, order a coffee or soda to please the owner, put on her new ensemble in the bathroom, go to cla.s.s, and change there again on the way home.

These days, however, she was taking an additional detour on the way home: Stephen's studio apartment. It had all begun on the third night of her new image. He had approached her after cla.s.s, and asked her out for a drink. A quaint little pub a few blocks from school, a couple of drinks, and next thing she knew, his place.

"What can I say, darling? I'm just a harlot, like one of those pitiful vixens in the Bible."

Rachel sat there, eyes fixed, ears glued to every word. "You mean you've been..."

"Just as you've been, my dear."

"But I'm married."

"Are you pa.s.sing judgment?"

"I'm sorry, I have no right to..."

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it."

"I really didn't; I shouldn't have said that; I'm sorry."

Rachel was obviously still fragile. Esther took her hand, and reiterated, "It's okay, it's okay."

"It really isn't," Rachel responded. She had never told Esther of her meetings with Joshua, and this seemed to be the opportune moment to change that. Whether for her own sake, Esther's, or both, it was time to tell someone.

Esther was stunned by the confession, and Rachel had spared not a single detail. The telling had been heart wrenching, and also cathartic. It seemed to ease both of their guilt.

"So it's over?" Esther asked.

"It's over."

The two friends looked at one another intensely. Suddenly, Esther started to laugh. Rachel hesitated at first, but couldn't keep from joining in. They began to laugh harder; it felt good. Much better than crying. Oh, the mess they'd made of their lives.

"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked, trying to calm herself.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll marry him; he's Jewish, you know. I suppose I can't hold that against him, can I?"

"No, I suppose you can't."

"What are you going to do?" Esther asked.

"Me?" Rachel contemplated her response, then: "I'm going to keep things simple. I'm going to love my husband, have lots of children, and make chullent and kugel every Shabbos."

More laughter.

Rachel returned to the synagogue the following Shabbos. She hadn't fully recuperated, and could have gotten away with staying home, but she wanted to go. She knew that sooner or later she would have to face the sympathetic stares from the women in the balcony. It might as well be now.

There was also another reason for her decision. It had been announced throughout the community that the Rebbe was going to deliver a major speech, the topic of which was known only to a select few. Rabbi Weissman had been one of those few, and he had shared what he knew with his family during Friday night dinner. Rachel had been shocked: the Rebbe is going to talk about racial issues in the neighborhood, unheard of.

The Rebbe had always been aloof from such unseemly matters. And now that was going to change. Notwithstanding her vows of ending her relationship with Joshua, and her belief that this was all behind her, she felt compelled to hear what the Rebbe had to say.

She and her mother arrived at the synagogue just in time. They climbed the stairs, and found the usually vacant balcony filled to capacity, standing room only. Rachel was glad to be hidden in the crowd, virtually unnoticed, able to avoid spurious consolation and inquiries as to her well-being.

They stood in the back for less than a minute before silence descended upon the hall. The room was never this quiet, not even during the Torah reading. Rachel had always found it disturbing how the Rebbe commanded more decorum than the Almighty Himself, but that was the way things were.

She couldn't see beyond the heads in front of her, but she heard the Rebbe's voice emanating from the podium below. He spoke softly, barely loud enough to be discerned, and in Yiddish, the preferred tongue of all Hasidic sects. Rachel had no problem with that; her teachers had all taught in Yiddish, and her parents had often used it around the house. She listened intently, her hand cupped behind her ear for better acuity. Around her, the women were shuckling, swaying back and forth with their bodies, believing that doing so enhanced their concentration. Rachel stood still, as did Hannah. The shuckling thing wasn't in their blood.

"My friends, this small section of Brooklyn has been our home since the early 1940's, and it will remain our home until, G.o.d willing, the Messiah comes to gather us." The Rebbe paused for a moment, for words of the Messiah usually inspired cheers and singing among his followers. The crowd responded as expected: We want Moshiach now! We want Moshiach now! We want Moshiach now . . .

Rachel looked at her mother with humor. Neither of them chanted, and they knew that, down below, Isaac wasn't chanting either. Isaac Weissman had always stressed that prayer and deeds would hasten the coming of the Messiah, not screaming and yelling.

The crowd quieted after a few minutes, and the Rebbe continued. "Our neighborhood has also been the home of many groups other than ourselves, and over the past few years, some have been leaving for one reason or another."

Rachel knew the Rebbe was being intentionally vague, it would be unfitting for him to be more specific.

"This is unfortunate, and much has changed. There is more crime, there is more tension on the streets." The Rebbe stopped, as heads all around him nodded in fierce agreement. The Rebbe is going to take us to live somewhere else, they thought, the Rebbe is going to save us.

"I know that many of you have waited for a sign..."