The Willow Tree: A Novel (20 page)

The days and weeks followed a routine that Moishe laid out for Bobby and Bobby followed exactly. He worked out in the morning before he ate, then showered and drank a large body builders drink Moishe prepared for him. When Moishe first filled a glass from the blender Bobby looked at it, frowning, then looked at Moishe mischievously, What this gonna be doin Mush?

Moishe shrugged, Maybe its making your muscles as big as your head—laughing his silly laugh.

Bobby shook his head and smiled, Mush, you sure be a sad assed dude.

Moishe shrugged and grinned, Is maybe adding 3 inches and 2 lbs to your wiener, ya?

Hey, right the fuck on man!—shaking his head and grinning as wide as possible—Wiener can ya dig it???? A muthafuckin wiener, hehehe. Mush…you be sick…damn…you be a sick dude.

Bobby sipped the drink, then opened his eyes wide and looked at the glass, then Moishe, Hey, this be righteous Mush. Bobby took a long drink, looked at the glass again, then emptied it and licked his lips, That be tastin fine….Damn, an it be puttin some bad weight on my pretty dick! Sheeit, you be alright Mush.

They looked at each other, smiling happily, Bobby wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, I be fixin to axe you Mush what be happenin to the dude what be huggin you?

Moishe looked at Bobby not understanding, So????

You know, the dude in the camp that be huggin your arms down after you—

O ya, ya…Sol.

Sol? That be his name?

Ya, Sol—Moishes expression changing to one of reverie and reverence—Ya…Sol….

Bobby studied Moishes face for a moment, always loving it when he got that look on his face, whatever he was feeling making Bobby feel good, and, too, Bobby knew it meant that whatever they were talking about, or he was thinking about, meant something really special to Moishe and he really liked to see the old man so happy, really groovin behind it, it jus be turnin his ass on, He be makin it?

So????

You know, he live?

O ya, ya. Sol lived. Who knows—shrugging—maybe hes still living. I hope.

You see him after you split the camp?

No…no. Last time Im seeing Sol is couple days after camp is liberated.

Bobby was still turned on by Moishes expression and manner and was smiling from deep within himself, He be your main man, huh?

Main man?—looking bewildered.

Bobby started laughing, Man, it sure do tickle me when you lookin that way.

So?

Bobby smiled all over his face, I mean like you two was really tight…bes friens.

O ya, O so…so…Im not knowing how much best friends. Sol was…O, so important…like—shrugging, groping for words—like god, like breathing.

Like he hip ya to the camp…like show ya how to make it…run a scam or somethin.

Moishe looked at Bobby for a few long moments, that reverential expression on his face, Bobby feeling it sweep over him. Moishe looked at Bobby with such overwhelming tenderness and love Bobbys knees started to weaken…Im not knowing from scam, but ya, Sol showed me how to survive…not just stay alive…survive—gently tapping his chest—in the heart.

Bobbys expression asked the unspoken question, How?

O Sol, such a simple man…a nobody, a clerk or bookkeeper—shrugging—who knows, but such a person—Once again that faraway look crossed Moishes face as if he were somewhere else—You know Bobby, sometimes Im thinking all those years ago did Sol really be, is he really there or am I imagining—smiling, grinning—Sometimes Im even thinking it was an angel whose talking to me…Im thinking if I talk, today, with other men in that barracks are they seeing Sol too? Are they hearing him?

Bobby watched, smiling….Soun like he save your ass for sure.

Ya—laughing—for sure…for sure.

What he be doin, showin you how to be gettin extra food an stay hid from the muthafuckin man?

Man?—again shaking his head and smiling.

Bobby shook his head laughing happily, just loving to watch Moishe, Damn Mush, how you get so square? The guards.

O ya…ya, the guards. No…and anyway, how can you hide? No. Sol is showing me how not to hate—

Not to hate? In that muthafuckin joint? Soun like bull shit.

Ya, ya, I say to him the same thing.

I doan know Mush—shaking his head—Soun like some deep shit to me! Anyway, I bes be gettin dressed.

Suddenly Moishe was alone in the kitchen looking at the doorway, hearing Bobby moving around in the bedroom. Eventually he got up from the table and washed the glass, and the blender, and remained at the sink for a moment remembering how patient Sol was with him, how Sol always let him yell and curse Klaus, and the Nazis, Moishe feeling his face flush, knowing it was getting redder and redder as it got hotter and hotter, but not caring, just wanting to scream his hatred into the rotten, foul air, wishing he could scream it into the brains of the guards then scoop their brains out of their skulls and scream them into oblivion and always he would reach the point where he could no longer yell, his throat almost closed, feeling a large lump, hearing the hoarseness, his voice starting to fade and always…always, without ever one exception he would end up on Sols bunk, his arms wrapped around his head, moaning and crying from deep in his soul, from some place he had never known existed, never having been so violated by life…so shattered by the circumstances of his existence…never having the ability to imagine being in a situation like the one he was in at that moment…and always Sol would let him have the dignity of his pain….

                            and when Moishes turmoil would subside Sol would put a hand on his shoulder and reassure him that it was alright to feel as he felt. Just feel Moishe and dont judge…thats all. You are a loving man Moishe, you cant stop the love forever, it is more powerful than the camp.

Sol—tearfully looking at him—How can you say these things? How can you look around and say these things? There is nothing but hate here. There is nothing but blind stupid hatred here and you want me to love these…these…crazed beasts?

I want only that you treat yourself with respect. They wont so you should. Is that not so?

Words Sol…words. It is only hate that keeps me alive.

Is that so? Perhaps, but I think not.

I live only to someday get Klaus and all the rest of them—waving his arm in a wide arc.

Moishe my friend, we all need a reason to live. If yours is hate, to kill, then so it is—shrugging and looking at Moishe with profound understanding—but what do you end up with? a poisoned heart and in the end hate will kill you.

Kill me? Hate is not killing me. I will stay alive to…to…O god….

Sol was quiet for a moment…My friend, we have more chance of surviving this place than our own hate. Hate always destroys the hater, that can not be avoided. But some of us will survive this place, that is always the way. I dont know why, but there is always those who survive. Maybe life wants it like thai so we can tell others what happened, so all this will not happen again.

You sit here in this place, this putrid miserable hell, and spout this…this…shit, this pure unadulterated SHIT!!!!

There was a faint hint of a smile on Sols face, Where can I go my friend? Yes I sit here and say what I say.

But how can you talk such shit?!

How? Because no one has suffered more from hate than me. Hate killed me, my friend, so I know.

Ahhhhhhh….Moishe jerked up from the bunk and waved his arm in dismissal and went to his own bunk and sat, hunched over, his arms wrapped around his head….

                     How many times did I run away from Sol?—Moishe smiled—until I died. Yes, like Sol said, hate killed me. So Werner, now we let Bobby die. So maybe hate will kill him so he can live. We will see. I just dont interfere with life…Ya, just like that—smiling and shaking his head—just like that.

At night they went out for walks. Moishe would buy a few pieces of fruit and they would eat them as they strolled along the streets, sooner or later always stopping at a pushcart and Bobby loading up on hot dogs.

They were mostly silent as they walked through the deserted, rubble strewn area, not by conscious intent or decision, but primarily because the area created such oppressive feelings within them, each for their own reasons and in their own way, that conversation was impossible….Moishe remembering the years he lived here, first with his wife and son, then with just Gertrude, remembering the people that used to live here when this was still a family neighborhood, when children ran the streets and women pushed baby carriages and a night like tonight all the strollers would be out and they would walk or just stand and talk, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend, sometimes just strangers smiling at little children and complementing mothers: Such nice chubby cheeks, oh I could just eat them up—pinching cheeks and waving their heads in the childrens faces….Yes, so many people…and smells, the smells of life like cabbage soup, chicken, all kinds of chicken, brisket, pastrami, bagels, biali, bread, all the smells and all the people and all the stores…one after the other, all touching…stores for blocks and blocks, and on any block you could get everything you need, food, clothes, pots, pans, ice cream. And all those years they lived in the same apartment over the dry goods store…the sun coming in the kitchen in the morning like a canary bird…ya, thats what Gertrude said, like a canary bird. Who knows why it was like a canary bird, but it was there and so was the window that you could open and close, just like all the windows and doors, in and out, up and down. When Moishe had to get up early some mornings he would sit at the table drinking coffee, watching the sun come up and always it excited him to know that the sun would be there for another day, that the darkness would be penetrated then absorbed, and on those mornings he would count his breaths from the first hint of light until the last hint of darkness, seeing how much brighter it got with every breath he took as if he was willing the sun up for another day just by breathing, and it seemed to bring a hint of light to his memories of the camp and the years he thought his family was dead. They were good mornings, yes, very good mornings. Now the same buildings were crumbling, shattering, the once crowded streets strewn with rusted cans, broken bottles, bricks, rocks and rats and it sounded like a million lives were being crushed under his feet as he heard each step crunch through the debris. So hard to believe that once there was so much life right here, in this place, and now only shadows and death…and dying. Silence was needed for Moishe as he walked through the symbol of his life…life always followed by crumbling death as if everytime he watched the sun rise he was willing its descent….But that too was lovely sometimes when they sat in the living room of their railroad flat watching the sunset, not that they could actually see it set, but they could see glimpses of sky between buildings and watch it change color, he and Gertrude always fascinated by the play of light and color in the sky and on the buildings, fascinated by how parts of certain buildings seemed to be softened and altered by the changing light. And each time he walked through here with Bobby he wanted to point out where he had lived, where a certain store had been, the school, the park, a playground but always the crunching underfoot rendered him mute and they walked in silence, Moishe anticipating the turning of a corner where they would be surrounded by life and leave the decay behind.

              Bobby always walked close to Moishe, feeling safe if he could reach out and touch him. It wasnt something he figured out, or tried to understand, it—was simply something he knew instinctively, the streets having sharpened his instincts for staying alive. So he stayed close to Moishe, yet always alert, checking out every movement, every sound, sensing what was around a corner before turning, making sure he stayed clear of any spots where someone could be hiding. He knew no one knew he was here, but this was not only a no mans land where anything was possible, a place nobody really knew except maybe Moishe, but even he didnt know if some crazy person with a hatchet or butcher knife might be hiding in one of these buildings, and there were so many of them, miles and miles of them, even Moishe couldnt know what was happening in all of them at the same time, and even if he did it could change in a minute, no, this wasnt Bobbys hood. This was like a different country, a different language, none of it understood. He knew his hood, knew the faces, the doorways, the cars, a couple of blocks were his turf and the familiarity brought with it a sense of safety, that was why they never left the hood. Born, live and die all within the same couple of blocks. You knew nothing could really be trusted, especially people, so you walk on the balls of your feet behind a bad look. But even that doesnt always work, especially when you dont know if some dudes are looking to kick your ass. Bobby knew. If that could happen then anything could happen here and he had seen on tv how indians hid under snow or twigs…and some dudes in the war hid under the ground, too, and they suddenly jump up and get up side the head of some poor sucker, they just cut his throat, or something, and this sure as hell was a place where somebody could be hiding under the garbage and you wouldnt know it or there could even be a land-mine like on the tv and blow your legs off or jump up in your crotch and blow your dick off and Bobby sure as hell didnt want that to happen so he walked cautiously, always within reach of Moishe, noticing that Moishe always seemed to know exactly where he was going, always knew exactly how to get through the rubble, always sure of what he was doing, never seeming to be uncertain where he was going to put his foot next, and he never seemed to be nervous, never worried about what was happening the way Bobby was, he just kept walking and when he turned he just turned, he didnt stop and look around and wonder, he just made the turn and kept on walking and Bobby just followed but always marking landmarks in his head, trying to remember which way Moishe went, how he angled off here and there, what kind of mark was on the building where he went left, where he went right, and though he stayed close and kept an eye on Moishe, he was as aware as possible of where he was and what his surroundings looked like, and how it changed in the dark.