DISOWNED (25 page)

   "Yes, it's true."

   "You've even started going to a kosher butcher! You've bought two sets of dishes to eat on. Really, it's all too much for him to bear. Nobody blames him, Rebecca."

   "I don't blame him either," Rivkah responds.

   "We felt we had to call you. We hope we haven't offended you."

"You have."

   "Well, you've offended us plenty too. We love Matthew, and you've hurt him. We're upset for him now."

"I'm sorry," Rivkah answers slowly, "really sorry. For everything."

Matthew stays with Rivkah until about one month before the birth. He says he'll send money, but he can't bear to even see this baby. Then he moves to an apartment close by with Vivien, and tells everyone that Vivien and his mother Genevive are getting along very well. It's a relief.

   Early many mornings Rivkah still goes to the zendo, sits there with strength and doesn't say a word about all of this to Eido Roshi. She doesn't have to. He understands. Beyond understanding.

The whirl of events are not the issue here. All that matters is  the true woman. Find her, Eshin!Who am I now? Rivkah wonders. No one. A hybrid. A leftover from an old tribe?

But like a criminal who must return over and over to the scene of the crime, Rivkah returns to her old neighborhood in her mind, and talks to God relentlessly. Why did this happen? Who caused it? And how can I make true amends?

   When Friday night comes and the Sabbath starts approaching, back in her apartment she lights the candles, bakes the Challah and sings old, Hebrew songs to herself. Especially songs to welcome the angels. And, without exception, every Friday night, all the angels are delighted to come.

 * * *

   In April, during the middle of Passover, a son is born. He is born in two hours with vigor and force. He is born one week early, painlessly. A few pushes and he is here.

Rivkah sits up, cries out, and holds out her arms to hold a beautiful, strong and healthy son with flashing eyes, who has come to claim the name he has been charged with! Joshua. Redeemed by God.

   The very next day after the baby is born, almost as soon as she opens her eyes, Rivkah sees Janice standing beside her hospital bed, excited, bubbling, talking fast.

   "Congratulations. He's beautiful."

"A bris," Rivkah whispers.

   "I know."

   "Where can I have it?"

"In my apartment."

"My God, thank you."

"It's nothing. I'm excited. I've never been to a real bris before."

"A very great angel comes to every bris," Rivkah murmurs. "To bless everyone there."

   "Me included?" Janice is laughing.

Rivkah reaches out her hand and puts it on Janice's. "Poor Janice," she cries out suddenly, "this exile, for everyone it's a terrible thing." Then she starts sobbing.

  "Rest yourself, Rebecca."

"I'm frightened," Rivkah keeps crying.

"Don't worry. You're crying because you've just had a baby. Our feelings go wild then."

   "But this exile," Rivkah's body is heaving, "believe me, Janice, it's a terrible thing."

Janice sits down at the edge of the bed, and smooths out the crumpled bed cover. Then very softly she starts, "what about your family, Rivkah?"

Rivkah looks up at her through streams of tears.

"It's time you called them, isn't it?"

"Why?"

   "You've got to call them. After all, you're making a bris."

CHAPTER 22

   "A son has been born," Rivkah announces on the phone, a couple of days later.

"Who is this?" An old, tired man's voice answers.

"Rivkah."

On the other side Rivkah hears silence. White light. Panic. Fear.

   "This is who?"

"Your old daughter Rivkah."

   "She died," he starts to answer, but his voice snaps, catches, and breaks down quickly into heavy sobs. "Rivkah? Rivkah, is it?"

On her end too, the sobbing begins, first quietly inside and then spilling out in full force. Daddy, daddy, she wants to cry out. You're still there? You're still alive? You haven't forgotten me?

"What did you say?" he utters finally. "A son has been born?"

   "The bris is Monday, at ten in the morning."

"Where?" He can hardly speak.

   Rivkah gives him the address quickly.

   "Molly," she hears him calling then. "Molly, fast. Come here. Hurry. Molly, a son has been born."

   From far away, Rivkah hears a voice calling, "A bris? Who? What's happening? Henry, tell me, what's his name?"

"Joshua," Rivkah offers.

"Joshua?" Henry echoes. "All right, all right, don't worry. We'll be there, Bekkie. We'll be there."

   "And my brother?" Words spill out one after the other now.

   "Dovid. . . " Henry starts and stops.

   "What?"

   "Your brother, believe it or not, he's a Hasid now."

   "What?"

"We couldn't stop him. He found them all by himself. He has a beard, studies Torah, wears a long, black coat and prays to God all day long. To this day I don't know how it happened. Now we're back to square one."

   "What do you mean?"

   "The house, we keep Shabbos. We're extra kosher. What could I do? I couldn't fight it anymore. Your brother keeps telling me it's what God wants from us all."

Rivkah hangs up the phone, white, cold, shaking from head to foot. "They're coming," she says to Janice.

   "Congratulations."

"How will I live through it?"

"Very well. Why not?"

***

   The morning of the bris is cool and clear, on the very cusp of springtime. Rivkah dresses herself in a blue, silk dress with long sleeves and a high collar. She stands in front of a mirror and inspects herself from head to toe. She looks pale today, a little tired. Her eyes seem huge and her hair has grown long. With both hands, she takes her hair and pulls it back off her face. Better, that's better. Then she curls it into a knot behind her head. After all, it's a bris I'm making.

   She goes to her dresser and starts opening and closing the drawers. She ruffles through one drawer and then another. Finally she reaches deeper into a drawer and pulls out a long, ivory scarf like Devorah used to wear. Rivkah lifts it slowly, and ties it tight around her head. If only grandma could see me now.

   Rivkah and Joshua are in Janice's apartment for only a few minutes when the front doorbell rings.

Janice jumps. "So early?"

Rivkah is chilled. "It must be them. They're always early."

   "Go answer it," Janice gives her a little push on the back.

   One tiny step after another, Rivkah walks to the door, puts her hand on the doorknob, pauses and then opens it up.

   They are all there. Her mother and father stand at the door, old, alone, huddled together with small packages in their hands.

"To a bris we had to come," Henry whispers.

   Behind them is a tall, beautiful, blue eyed Hasid with a long, black coat, big hat, long beard and gentle smile on his face. And his eyes, they shine so brightly. Like Uncle Reb Bershky,

Rivkah thinks, shocked. In his hands is a small prayer book. An old prayer book.

   That prayer book, Rivkah stares. I remember it well. "David?"

   His eyes fill with tears.

Janice comes up behind her quickly. "Come in, everyone. Please. Welcome."

   Rivkah steps to the side and they all come in.

  "Mazel-tov," David comes closer. "You look the same, just the same as I remember. I have your picture in my drawer."

   Her mother is crying now.

   "You promised me, Molly," Henry says and stands in front of  Molly, "no commotion. It's a happy occasion." But the muscle under his eye is twitching very hard.

   "We are happy to be here. Very happy," David talks very fast. "Don't look so sad. We're not allowed too. Who can dare to understand God's plan for us?"

   "Isn't he something?" Molly tries to speak up.

   Rivkah turns and looks at her mother whose eyes are filled with longing and pain. Do you forgive me Rivkah? her eyes are saying. Do you? And can we someday ever forgive you?

David interrupts their silent exchange.  "I hope you don't mind but I invited some friends at Yeshiva to come here to the bris, to be in the minyan. It's a big mitzvah. A big blessing."

   "Thank you, David."

Then David goes over to the basket in the corner that his nephew is lying in, and leans down over it. "My God. So beautiful. A beautiful boy. Mamma, papa, come over here and look. What a grandson! God has to be thanked for everything."

   Janice just stares. She has never seen a Hasid close up before.

   "When they do the bris, I will hold him," David instructs. “It will be a big brucha, a big blessing for us all."

   Rivkah hasn't had the blessing of a Hasid for years. Let alone from her very own brother. Now a mixture of sorrow and happiness fill her like heavy dew.

Soon the front doorbell starts ringing fast. One person after another is arriving. Guests Rivkah hasn't even known. David's friends, Hasids, are appearing in droves. They flock in like birds who have suddenly assembled together and landed in this strange living room. Before Rivkah can turn around the room is filled with young men in long black coats, beards, hats and burning eyes.

   "The baby's soul needs it," David whispers to Rivkah.

"I know."

"And thank God, this beautiful soul is helping to bring us all together again."

   Then the praying begins. The ancient, healing cries rise up around them. The sounds of the people and places Rivkah was born into return and toss her mercilessly about. These sounds arise and crash through her body, breaking bone after bone. 

   "How beautiful," Janice whispers.

The men's voices grow louder and louder and Rivkah starts to cry. The Mohle does the circumcision, picks up the baby, quickly does the cutting and the bris is accomplished. Food, laughter, talking! Loud congratulations!

"Mazel-tov! Mazel-tov!"

   Molly comes over to Rivkah now. "Mazel-tov."

Henry joins them both. "We brought you a little package. Here, take it."

   Rivkah takes it.

"You know, Rivkah," Molly says then, "each baby brings his own blessings."

   "I know."

  "So, God help us," Molly goes on, "maybe this baby can make us all a family again?"

   The blessings of the bris rise up and linger over them all, a soft fragrance everywhere. But more than a fragrance, they also hold power. The power to take Rivkah, shake her mightily, and force her both backwards and forwards in time.

   As everyone is eating she walks to the window, holds up her fists against it, and looks outside. Rabbis, she whispers in her mind, how do we encompass the spaces between lifetimes? Worlds pass in front of her eyes. Pictures of the past, sounds, yearnings rise up around her. Uncle Reb Bershky's face comes before her, and looks at her with gleaming eyes. "Mazel-tov," he whispers.

   Rivkah tosses her head away.

   Reb Bershky's face comes closer.

   "Go away, Reb Bershky," Rivkah whispers to him. "You can't come back like this after all these years."

   "Why not?"

   "I'm different now. I've changed. Things have happened."

   "Nothing ever happens."

   "I'm not the Rivkah you used to know. Now I've met Eido."

   "Who?"

   "Eido Roshi. He's my teacher now."

"It means nothing. God likes to test us, but the strong remain strong. You made a bris, didn't you?"

"So?"

Now Eido's face comes before her strongly. "Who is the true woman, Eshin? Who?"

   "Eido, I made a bris here."

"Wonderful. And I came to it. Wherever you go I will be with you. We can never be parted, not any of us. Whatever comes, it is your practice. Don't fight it so."

   Grandpa Moshe's face comes next. Rivkah feels weak. "Grandpa, is that you?"

   "Get up Rivkah and go home with your brother."

   "The whole world is my home. Who isn't my brother?"

   "Rivkah, go home. It is forbidden for a woman to be alone."

   "I am not alone!"

   "Entirely alone!"

She tries hard to shake him away, but he goes on. "This is not the way for a woman."

"It's too late, grandpa. I don't belong."

   "Still a child?" His voice sounds within full of power. "Rivkah, open your eyes. Look. It is impossible for you not to return."

   She shakes her head hard then, to be clear of them all. It must be the prayers, the singing of the Hasids. They're bringing me back. Confusing my mind.

   She turns and sees the Hasids sitting together at a table, chanting a part of the Torah out loud. David look up at her, gets up from the table and gently comes over to her side.

   "What are you standing near the window for? Come eat. You did a wonderful thing."

Rivkah turns around. "Do you remember me, David?"

   "How could I forget?"

   "All these years. . ."

   "We only remember the good things, Rivkah. Or else, how can we go on? I hope you don't mind my friends studying like this?"

"Of course not."

   "It brings blessings for everyone."

   "Thank you." Rivkah also sees her mother and father seated at a small table near the Hasids, speaking to Janice very fast. What could they be talking about? All together the room suddenly feels very close.

David leans over to her and whispers softly, "I brought a little present for you."

   "Really?"

   "A poem I wrote. Do you want to hear it?"

   "Of course."

With trembling fingers he takes out an old yellow paper from his jacket pocket. It is torn and crumpled. He opens it up and reads it slowly.

Dear sister Rivkah,

Time has a way of pressing the vine, forcing the truth,

Clearing all pathways.

Who we are and what we have been, mix together inextricably,

And sooner or later our children appear,

Bearing the traces of our entire longings,