When the World Turned Upside Down

Chapter XII

After the Bombing
Both Chaim and Abe were kept in the hospital overnight, then deemed well enough to return home the next afternoon. Chaim was carried home between his father and his brother Moshe because his crutches had been lost in the blast. His ribs ached during the long walk home and he was exhausted and worried about Abe. Abe had made a swift exit to avoid a telling off from Chaim's father for working on Shabbos, so they had not yet had a chance to talk in private. He fell asleep soon after he was tucked into bed and slept on and off most of the day. The next day, Moshe came in with some soup around midday when he came home from work for his own midday meal. Without speaking he assisted his brother into a seated position so he could eat the salty chicken soup. Moshe had always been wonderfully intuitive to Chaim's needs. He never mentioned the help he gave, and he never gave help where it wasn't needed, but he was always there when he was needed. Chaim was glad for the warm soup, but sitting was very difficult. He couldn't get himself into a sitting position using his arms or chest because of the pain in his ribs, and there were few other muscles he could use to help him because there was residual paralysis in some of the muscles of his back and abdomen. He ate most of the soup but had to lie down again quite quickly because of the pain in his broken ribs.
"How are you feeling Chaim?" He asked in his soft, lilting Yiddish.
"Tired mostly, still quite sore. None of it feels real yet, like a horrible dream I can't get out of my head." Moshe nodded slowly, rubbing his temple.
"And I hate feeling so helpless, I can't do anything, I can hardly sit up, and I couldn't do anything to save them, to save Quinn. I failed." He hated feeling so trapped in his own body, it reminded him far too much of the period when he first became ill. He had lain in bed with a fever for days before he tried to stand one morning and found he couldn't. He was taken to hospital and placed in isolation. He was terrified and alone as his ability to move his body was slowly taken. By the time his fever broke his legs were completely paralyzed and his arms and hands were so weak he couldn't even grasp a cup. He couldn't even sit up because the muscles of his back and torso had been badly affected. Infantile paralysis, poliomyelitis they had called it. The crippler of children. Moshe seemed to know instinctively what his brother was thinking about. After all, he had slept in the bed next him during those many months of his brother's recovery, often helping him in the night when his muscles ached and he needed to turn over in bed, or bringing a chamber pot and helping him use it so their parents need not be awakened.
"You did not fail to save him because of this," he said gesturing to his bad leg,
"You could not save him because no one in the world could save him. All three of you were blown off your feet, how were you supposed to save him when you were unconscious and he was already beyond help." Chaim lay silently, he could not so easily let go of the guilt he felt at surviving.
"And Chaim, remember what the Rambam said, the righteous of all nations have a share in the world to come. If there ever was a righteous gentile it was Quinn and his family. We have all heard the stories of his father, he hires Jews in the dock yards when no one else will,  and he never expects them to work on Shabbos. And we can never forget how you first became friends with Quinn." Chaim nodded, tears coming to his eyes at the memory of his dead friend's kindness. Chaim had been twelve, and just barely well enough to begin school. His English was still broken and he was still weak from his illness. Crippled and visibly Jewish with his small black yarmulke he had been walking home from school at his usual slow pace when two boys from another school cornered him. They kicked him down, held his arms behind his back and screamed insults at him as they hit him.
"Jew boy, Christ killer, kike" they hurled the words at him like daggers, he could almost feel them cut into his flesh as he screamed, unable to fight back with his arms held behind him. He screamed and screamed hoping someone would hear, would notice, would care. But no one did. People walked by turning their heads away, pretending not to see. Until Quinn came. The strapping red headed Irish boy took on the two boys, hitting them, then scaring them away with a dangerous looking pocket knife. He helped Chaim up and brought him home, supporting his body the entire way.
"I remember" Chaim whispered, Moshe nodded, rubbing his brother's hand.
"I know you do, you will always remember, and as long as you do, you will keep his memory for a blessing, he will never be truly gone." Chaim closed his eyes, emotional and physical pain flooding him.
"I know, I know" he whispered again, exhaustion hitting him, he burrowed into his pillows. Moshe stroked his brother's curls and put out the light by his bed.
"Try and sleep, little brother, you look exhausted." Chaim nodded, suddenly hardly able to keep his eyes open. He slept soundly and dreamlessly.
Three days later
Mary climbed the rickety stairs, despite her preoccupation with Colin's care, when she had hear of Rutka's brother's injury in the bombing she had decided to bring a basket of fruit and some books for Rutka's brother to try and make his recovery a little easier. Rutka had been beside herself with Mary's kindness, after all she was her maid and they had known each other mere weeks. But Mary always loved hearing Rutka talk about her family, just as she had loved listening to Martha speaker about her family when Mary was a child. She knocked at the door and was greeted by a comfortable looking woman who reminded her immensely of Susan Sowerby. She smiled quizzically and greeted Mary in a soft, heavily accented voice.
"Hello Miss, how can I help you?" Mary smiled back.
"Hello, my name is Mary Lennox, your daughter works for my uncle, I heard about your son so I brought some things to cheer him up." The woman's face lit up and she clasped Mary's hand.
"Well, aren't you a dear, come in child and have some tea." Mrs. Ludke exclaimed over the basket of fruit, a rare luxury in the East End, as she bustled Mary into the small but comfortable front room.
"May I ask where your son is, is he home? I'd like to give him this." Mary held up the book, a beautiful copy of Les Miserables. Mrs. Ludke gasped,
"Oh Miss, we cannot take this, you are too kind Miss." Mary smiled,
"I insist, Rutka says he loves to read, may I give it to him?" Golda nodded, still somewhat shocked.
"He's just through here Miss." She said, leading Mary through to the boy's room in the back of the flat.
"Do forgive him if he is a bit cross, his ribs were hurting him this morning, and he is getting quite tired of staying in bed, but I'm afraid there's not much we can do about that." Mary looked at her questioningly.
"Oh! Was he so very badly injured?" Golda sighed, her hand resting on the door.
"He was injured, but, well you see, his crutches were caught in the blast and..." The proud woman couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. To admit that she was having to scrimp and save to try and pay for something so vital. She pulled herself back, squaring her shoulders.
"Here, you give him your wonderful gift and I will find some food for you, I made holishkes and I think I just might have some left just for you!" Mary smiled widely, nodded and entered the small room.
A thin curly headed boy of about sixteen lay on one of the small beds, he was reading a thick battered book in a language Mary didn't recognize, suddenly Mary was concerned, she hoped the boy could read English. The boy put down the book and looked inquisitively at Mary.
"My name is Mary, your sister Rutka works for my uncle, I heard about what happened to you and thought I would stop by, I brought you this." She lifted up the book and he looked at it in awe, she took in the books and papers stacked by his bed and the newspaper articles tacked up on his wall. He reached out a hand and brushed the gilt cover, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"This is for me? Just because my sister works for you?" Mary smiled and nodded.
"I know how important it is to have things to read, especially when you are stuck in a little room. I know for you it will only be a little while longer, but this should help get you through it." He smiled widely, he pushed himself up, wincing slightly, a hand on his ribs. He took the book, his slim fingers caressing it as though it were a living thing.
"This is the most beautiful book I have ever seen, I don't know how to thank you." Mary smiled, her real reason finally coming out.
"Actually there is something you can do to thank me. My cousin was hurt, very badly. There are so many obstacles in his way, in the way of all the soldiers who came back injured. I'm sure you feel that too. For my cousin, for all of them, don't give up on that dream." Mary gestured to the newspapers which covered the walls.
"How did you know about that?"
"Rutka told me, she said you write all the time." Chaim let out his breath. Rutka hadn't seen him and Abe together at the newspaper office.
"I do, writing makes me feel...free. Even when I'm stuck in bed." Golda bustled in just then, ending their conversation.
"I have a plate ready and the tea is hot so you must come through and eat! Chaim are you hungry? I can help you into the kitchen if you would like, it would be good to get moving a little." Chaim shook his head, gingerly lowering himself back down to the bed, his hand still inadvertently clutching his ribs.
"I'm fine Mama, I'll eat later when Moshe can help me in, my ribs are still quite bad." Golda patted her son's shoulder.
"Alright bubbeleh I'll just bring you some tea." Chaim smiled, softly touching his mother's hand,
"A dank Mame, and thank you again for the book Miss, it is wonderful." Mary was brought through to a small, plain kitchen where she was sat at a long wooden table and presented with a glass of tea made in a way she had never seen it before, and a plate full of a dish she didn't recognize. It smelled lovely though, sweet and meaty and slightly spicy. The dish consisted of rolls of what looked like cabbage covered in a thick red sauce.
"Go on, you should eat, they are a specialty of mine, now you eat while I bring Chaim his tea." Golda poured hot water from a large samovar and mixed the tea in a glass with a simple metal handle. Then she placed a slice of dark bread spread with honey on a small plate and bustled back into Chaim's room with her tray. Mary took a small somewhat cautious bite. It was delicious, sweet and sour, the cabbage leaves were filled with well spiced meat and grains and the tomato sauce was thick and savory. Mary ate hungrily and drank the sweetened tea. It was entirely unlike English tea, served in a glass rather than a cup or mug and sweetened lightly but served strong and black without the customary milk or cream Mary was used to. Soon, Golda came bustling back into the kitchen, she didn't seem to have another style of movement other than comfortably bustling about.
"You have made quick work of that Miss, I am very pleased you enjoy it!" Mary smiled, reminded more and more of Susan Sowerby.
"It was lovely, thank you, I have never eaten anything like it!" Golda beamed,
"Thank you Miss," she began moving slowly around the kitchen with a cloth, cleaning each surface with care.
"You have a lovely home." Golda smiled again, pouring them both another glass of tea, she finally sat down across from Mary.
"After so many years, it still feels so strange to live with so many people, even in Warsaw, a big and beautiful city, here is even bigger." Mary nodded,
"When I first saw London, I was overwhelmed by the buildings, even just from the docks and the drive to the train station. I never saw anything like it in India, all the smoke, the noise, the fog, it felt so strange, like another world."
"Another world indeed! Such a journey, what beautiful things you must have seen." Mary nodded.
"I only wish I had enjoyed it, it was a hard time for me." Golda looked at her sympathetically and nodded.
"My daughter tells me you are going through a hard time again, I am very sorry. Those boys do not deserve such pain."
"Thank you, he is doing a bit better, but he will never be the same." Golda nodded sadly,
"He will find a way, in time, he will find a way yeder mentsh hot zein peckel, every man has his burden." Suddenly she stood.
"You know, I remember my Chaim could hardly eat anything when he was in hospital. You have brought such lovely things, I can give a few things of my own." She gathered two small braided rolls and placed them in the basket which she had emptied of the fruit. She then took a jar and filled it with more of the cabbage from the pot on the stove.
"There! Perhaps this will put a smile on his face. Rutke says he has no mother to feed him and I can't have that. And no arguing child you must take it!" Mary smiled broadly showering praises on the lovely, motherly woman. When she left, carrying the small basket she felt quite revived, just as she did when she visited Susan Sowerby, and just as Rutka had told her she would.
A Secret Revealed
A few days later, Chaim was finally alone, his mother had gone to the chicken market to get a bird for the Shabbos meal, his father was at work and the children were all at school. Because his mother went to market at the same time twice a week, Chaim sat in bed praying that Abe would remember and try and come by. He was right, around mid morning he heard steps in the front room and a moment later Abe pushed open his bedroom door.
"Abe!" Abe brought a finger to his lips, not wanting to alert the neighbors. He knelt by Chaim's bed and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Chaim took Abe's hand and kissed his fingers. He pushed himself up to a half seated position against his pillows, ignoring the pain of his ribs. Their lips met and Abe's uninjured arm circled Chaim's waist, hugging him close and supporting him at the same time. When their kiss broke there were tears in eachother's eyes.
"G-d I've missed you Abe." Abe nodded,
"Me to, I've wanted to see you so badly it almost hurts." Abe whispered, lifting Chaim's hand to kiss again. Chaim moved to look at Abe's bandaged arm, kissing the bandages softly.
"Are you in pain?" Chaim asked softly.
"Not as bad as it was, they got everything out so it's getting better. How are your ribs?" Chaim sighed, finally feeling as though he could let out all the pain, sadness, and frustration.
"I wouldn't mind the pain so much if I wasn't so stuck. I can't sit up on my own any more, and I don't know how long it will be before my parents are able to afford crutches. I'll be stuck in bed until then, and I wanted to go to Quinn's funeral!" He added his voice breaking.
"I feel I owe it to him you know." Abe kissed his forehead again.
"I know, I don't know how to bring myself to go, I could hardly talk to his father in hospital. I just felt so guilty." Chaim nodded.
"Everyone keeps telling me it isn't my fault, and part of me knows they're right, but part of me still blames myself. We were all together, yet somehow we made it and he didn't, it isn't fair." Entwining their hands, Abe replied,
"I know." Chaim looked at their clasped hands, raising them and kissing Abe's fingertips.
"Come here," he said, pulling Abe down next to him on the bed, kissing him sweetly.
"I shouldn't stay long, if someone were to come home..." Chaim nodded but he ran his fingers hungrily through Abe's hair, kissing him again and again.
"I know, I just need you. I want you so badly. I just need to hold you." It was difficult and awkward, both boys were in pain so they had to avoid each other's injuries but eventually they found a position where both were comfortable and they lay in eachother's arms for some time. Eventually Chaim drifted off to sleep and Abe slipped out, their secret still safe, at least for now.
Yiddish Glossary
Holishkes: stuffed cabbage- delicious, just saying, definitely worth a try. I suggest Canter's Deli in LA for the best holishkes I've ever had. Believe me, Ashkenazi cuisine might get a bad rap, but we really have some great stuff!
Rambam: The Rambam was an important Jewish scholar. He wrote about the Jewish view of the afterlife, which is generally much more vague than in Christianity or Islam. There is a concept of a heaven, and the idea that the wicked won't really enjoy heaven but there isn't a concept of hell, or the idea that only Jews can go to heaven.