Caraliza (5 page)
Authors: Joel Blaine Kirkpatrick
Papa walked him home that night still convinced the boy had taken sick. Yousep strangely recovered his wits, after losing his food, but set straight away to cleaning the mess; sadly, he trembled the entire day, so much, he was not allowed to handle the plates in the closet. He also stubbornly refused to go home when told it might be best.
Yousep was feeling deep shame all day, the result of which made him tremble as if fevered. He felt nothing but regret at having vomited on the stair; that could easily be cleaned. However, he had the disgraceful reaction of wetting himself, in a way he had never done, at being overwhelmed by the sight of the delicate hands beckoning in his direction; the girl across the street, weeping to be taken into his arms, begging him to hurry across.
His mother and father were alarmed at the description Papa Reisman gave of Yousep’s behavior. Not a hint gave him warning something might be the matter with the boy. His mood was normal, his work efficient; returning inside from washing the window - he was changed.
Papa described it as frightened, and frightening.
Yousep was sent to bed, his dinner would be broth and nothing more. They thanked Papa, and offered to feed him his dinner for his trouble, they wanted to know if it would cause inconvenience, should Yousep stay at home sick the next day. He declined the dinner, but took a roll, with many thanks, to tide him on his own trip home. The boy would cause no harm in staying home, to get well, if he needed it, and did not insist he felt better.
A prayer was said, and the employer was out into the darkening street to find his way home.
Yousep’s parents sat at the side of his bed, to discuss what matters with the boy. He found it would be quite easy to lie; he wanted to lie. Lying would keep him from distressing them, such behavior over a girl he has never, and perhaps should never meet. However, Yousep did not lie to his parents. He did not tell them the truth, to be sure, and it was a distinction trimmed more finely than the width of any of his hairs.
“
I’m surprised Mr. Reisman did not tell you, I have seen the man suspected of the crime in the shop street. He lives in the basement under the stoop, across our window.”
I’m surprised Mr. Reisman did not tell you, I have seen the man suspected of the crime in the shop street. He lives in the basement under the stoop, across our window.”
Yousep’s mother clapped her hands in shock and prayed under her breath as he told them of asking about the man he saw on the curb.
“
Mr. Reisman did not think it well to know such a man; he does not know the man’s name. But, he is only accused. It is not proper to decide what we do not know, is it?”
Mr. Reisman did not think it well to know such a man; he does not know the man’s name. But, he is only accused. It is not proper to decide what we do not know, is it?”
His father sat in thought, and did not speak quickly. It was his way when conversations were of deep, or troubling subjects. He often would sit silent, after reading an article in the news about the war, before he would comment with his opinions. His father was a man of many opinions; he just took very great care with them. When he spoke, it did not soothe either Yousep, or his mother.
“
You are almost a man, Yousep Kogen. Sometimes the world is not a safe place for a child, and we must accept, the shop neighborhood is such an unsafe place. You cannot be a child any longer, on your walk, at your work, or-” He paused to look carefully at his son, “or on your way home. We cannot keep you from your work, though our care for you makes us wish we could. A man’s responsibilities are yours now. Trust your heart, judge as you need, to stay safe.”
You are almost a man, Yousep Kogen. Sometimes the world is not a safe place for a child, and we must accept, the shop neighborhood is such an unsafe place. You cannot be a child any longer, on your walk, at your work, or-” He paused to look carefully at his son, “or on your way home. We cannot keep you from your work, though our care for you makes us wish we could. A man’s responsibilities are yours now. Trust your heart, judge as you need, to stay safe.”
Yousep looked at the fright in his mother’s eyes, and held out his hand to her. She did not say anything; it was not her place, her son was no longer a child to them.
He had just been told he was a man.
He would soon have received his kippah and tallit, so near to his coming of age; she had been saving them since his mitzvah, waiting for the day of his confirmation at the synagogue. The confirmation would have to come the Sabbath; he had just taken his new place in the family.
Father said a simple prayer, that his son be given a man’s judgment and courage. That he be safe as he traveled in an unsafe place, God protect him.
Yousep said a silent prayer of his own; no dreams that night - fright, shame, and longing, did not belong together, in anyone’s dreams. But he did not know, he already was given his dream, the one he was to have that night, and would have every night as well. Yousep had been given his dream, to have forever, when he prayed for the rain to stop, and their eyes to meet. He would see those eyes, and their tears, every night when he closed his own.
He lay in bed, long after the house quieted to sleep. The street outside his widow was quiet as well. He lay in his bed, with a bit of moonlight in his eyes, and he thought about what happened to him that day on the walk.
Why did he fear she might rush into the street? She had not moved to do so. Why did she weep, why did it stir him the way it did? Of all the ‘whys’ he could ask himself, the one that stirred him in the strangest way, making him restless to the point of leaving his bed; why was she looking to see him, exactly the way he looked to see her? That ‘why’, she, and only she, could answer for him. When he left the window and returned to bed, it was to finally sleep, but begin the dream.
A surprised shop owner greeted his clerk at the door the next morning. Yousep wore his kippah. There was a hint of the tzitzit tassels on his tallit under his coat as he entered. Here, into Papa Reisman’s shop, walked Yousep Kogen the young man. It seemed a strange outcome to the sudden fright of the morning before, but the look in Yousep’s eyes indicated he understood the changes to be very important.
He walked directly to the counter, and apologized for behaving like a frightened child the day before. Papa simply offered his hand to his clerk and said it was unimportant, there was good work to do, and it was a blessing Yousep, the young man, felt better that day. Yousep knew he did not indeed feel better; but different - that was exactly how he felt.
He liked the dream he dreamed.
He did not awake in fear of it, there was nothing in it to fear; but aroused as before because it had been filled with golden hair, and gentle hands, and the shame this time, was put away. Yousep refused to be ashamed of this dream.
Either too frightened, or too wary, she did not appear at the top of the stair that day. Yousep looked out to see her more often than he usually did. He learned to take less time to do so, and became quite good at the appearance of never seeming to glance outside at all. His employer thought him back to health and fewer daydreams. Papa never would have suspected Yousep could become a crafty young man, so soon after leaving the frightened child behind.
Caraliza had not been a child for a very long time. She lost her childhood in thievery, torment, and anguish.
Yousep put away his childhood, suddenly, because it would not suit his new purpose.
There was a bit of sunlight at the back of the Reisman Portrait Studio for most of the afternoons, the beautiful little building had not filled its own lot, as so many new buildings did all around them. In fact, there remained a narrow grassy alley on both sides of the shop. The tenements on either side might menace it, but they did not touch the lovely little building. The alleys ran from the walk in front, straight to the back of the building.
The old family home to the rear had been built similarly, with some space for a garden, as a desired finish to the porch at the rear. The two buildings sat and shared that bit of earth, which was not put to any use for several years. Possibly, the family home would not last long, it looked to be in ill use even then; however, ill-use did not really mean a demolition would be immediate.
It was the yard for both that Yousep decided would need immediate attention. He always wondered why the studio had not been saved, by the mere solution of knocking some great new windows to the back of the building.
For the entire time he was employed, it had never been mentioned. The loss of the morning windows had been a sad event in the life of the shop, but why could afternoon windows not cheer them? He decided to find out - and brought it up before the shelves were completely dusted.
Suddenly, he and Papa Reisman locked the door, and were out in the back, standing at the little fence between the yards, watching to see how long before the sun would tap the back wall of the shop. It would not be long at all. In the winter, it would be even better. That tiny back porch was always first to clear of any snow.
Mr. Reisman looked at his own back wall, and did not recognize it; he never thought it useful. That day it was a different wall, and he praised Yousep the man, for seeing the use it could have. Yousep suggested a bit of a garden, the bricks on the buildings around were interesting enough for good photographs, but a garden would give it some life, and would make lovely portraits. A few roses perhaps; a small tree to start.
Papa was in a fit of sudden excitement.
His yard had not been ill-used, there was no trash to clear, no mess to haul. The weeds were never let to overgrow, because he and his son always kept them trim. Papa grasped his clerk’s hands and asked how such an inspiration could have come, when it passed the shopkeeper by for so many years? Yousep decided this truth would cause no harm, and might make up for some lack of itself later; he told Papa, he dreamed of the garden behind the shop, that very night before.
He had done some very exciting thinking and planning on his walk to work that morning. He knew the huge man who lived under the stoop across the street might possibly be dangerous, but he was not always at home. He must surely find occasional employment somehow; he was never idle on the stoop as the urchins had been. That meant, he was only a threat to Yousep’s plans when he was at home, in the basement under the walk.
It was also heart wrenching to see the girl, so taken with sadness, above that stair. Yousep would arrange nothing more dangerous than a bit of sun, and air, and conversation, a few mere yards from her very door.
If planned carefully, she might have some relief; if executed carefully, Yousep might not have trouble seeing her nearly every day. The shop wanted a garden to plant. She seemed badly in need of the air. Would Papa Reisman think it terrible if they planted and talked, and nothing more?
Yousep was sure it could be done. The first step was already accomplished; Papa accepted the garden as a wonderful idea. The next step only required Yousep to cross the street.
He did not wait long to try.
The next morning in fact, he changed his route down the shop street for the second time. He came directly to the basement stair and turned to cross to the shop from there. He did it as normally as he dared; it greatly excited him. Without looking back, he stepped from the curb the moment he heard a tiny squeak at the bottom near the door.
If it was the brute, no matter. Yousep was simply a shop clerk crossing the street. If it were the girl, she would understand, he would do this for her every morning until she felt safe to see him there. He would even make this his normal way of leaving the shop each night. There could be no harm come of this at all, he was certain.
It was not the brute at the bottom.
She did understand very well. She crept again to the bottom of the rail and watched him walk bravely across to his shop. When he reached his door, he turned and their eyes met a second time. He smiled and disappeared, to do the happiest day’s work he had done in nearly a year.
Caraliza returned to her work and smiled as well, for the very first time in that kitchen. She did not know the time the shop closed. But, she knew it would be very dark before she must be in the kitchen cleaning. So she watched at every chance.
Twice that day, she caught his eye while he stood near the window. Both times, he smiled at her. She tried so very hard to catch him leaving the shop, but missed that evening. He even waited a moment or two to tie his shoe before he walked on disappointed. She was determined she would not cry, when she noticed the shop was dark and closed, the last time she stood outside her door. However, Yousep was not one to let such a disappointment happen again, merely because of chance.
The next morning’s walk, he whistled a tune, as he approached the curb across from the shop.
He only paused for a second to hear the door move again at the bottom. He whistled his merry way across the street and turned to smile at her. Her hand was up to her mouth, laughing - tearful - yet laughing. They danced with one another all day, across the street from each other. There were so many glances Caraliza felt dizzy from them. She even returned his smile, to get a wink as another gift.
Listening that evening, she caught the whistle as it approached her curb. She was at the door in an instant. When the whistle seemed about to turn she stepped outside and looked up to see Yousep again tying a loosened string on his shoe. They were close enough to speak. His eyes were brown. His smile was beautiful to her. He wore a small amusing hat on his head; it was entirely too small to be a hat, and she smiled at it. Yousep noticed her hair was as golden as the dream. It was too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but they were bright. She did not rise up a single step.
It was enough.
He stood with a smile, and turned to make his way home. She felt her heart race away with him as he walked.
Other books
On the Brink of Paris by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel
A Kiss and a Cuddle by Sloane, Sophie
Gossamer by Lois Lowry
Vivid Temptation (Touched By You) by Trent, Emily Jane
Eleven Days by Lea Carpenter
Lucia's Masks by Wendy MacIntyre
The Forest Ranger's Promise by Bale, Leigh
The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date by Louisa George
This Is My Life by Meg Wolitzer
There's a (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell - v4 by Laurie Notaro