Голубые ступени / Stepping into the blue. Михаил Садовский

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СКАЧАТЬ she didn’t take offense. People were people, after all. Some lived one way, some another.

      «How old was I then? Sixty? Well, what is there to be afraid of at sixty? I didn’t know then I’d be alive at ninety!»

      She didn’t like remembering everything all at once, which she considered tanatamount to «throwing everything together in a heap», but if she happened to recall something, she would remember it in such detail as though it had occurred just a few moments ago and she were simply explaining the scene to a blind person so that he would know what was going on.

      And then at every opportunity she would tell Him the story too, not necessarily about herself, but today was special, and after her account she allowed herself to ask: «Gotteniu, du bist hat nicht vergessen – ich hab doch allein geblieben? Gotteniu, ich bet dir, nicht vergess uben mir. Ich nur dermahn dir. (Lord, you haven’t forgotten about me – am I the only one left here? Lord, I beg you, don’t forget about me. Just reminding you!)»

      On the steps of the synagogue near the exit she handed out the ten-kopeck pieces from her purse, saying «Seit gesund! Seit gesund! (Be healthy! Be healthy!)» and shuffled up the hill to the bus stop. She had a long journey ahead of her, but she knew the way quite well, and, what’s more, she knew she would get there for certain. First a trolleybus ride, then it was on to the subway with one transfer, and finally another bus ride – about two hours altogether one-way.

      At the gates to the cemetery she stopped to catch her breath and look about her. There was someone she needed to visit here. She stood still for five minutes or so and then headed down the central allée – she was getting close now. At the familiar little gate she undid the cord fastener and entered the low-fenced enclosure. After placing two fir boughs on the grave, bushy side up, she wiped the enamelled photograph on the headstone with the palm of her hand, put her face up close to it, wiped it once again, then kissed it and took her seat once more on the damp black bench.

      «Khaint ich hab do mit dir, Ziama. Du bist hat nicht vorgessen was vor ein Tag khaint? Nein, ich gleib dir, nein! (Today I’m here with you, Ziama. You haven’t forgotten what day it is today. No, I’m sure you haven’t!)»

      Passers-by naturally might have surmised that here was just a crazy old woman talking to herself. Somebody might have thought she was saying a prayer. In fact, she was simply talking with her husband.

      «It was a cloudy day back then too, and you were in a hurry, as always, and I had to get to the village. We never had time to be together back then. Still, thank God, we lived fifty-six years together, if you count the eighteen you spent in prison. But of course they count! If we hadn’t been waiting for each other all those years, we might not have survived.

      «It didn’t work out with the children, because of that. If we had had four or five, you wouldn’t have minded! I should say not! I know you! You were happy about that. But thank God He gave us two. We pulled through! You were either fighting or building, or in prison. And when you came back, I was oh so many years older – we won’t even count them.

      «Of course it would have been nice if you’d waited for me. What were you in such a hurry for – to leave? You were always in a hurry! Hurry, hurry, hurry!

      «It’s getting difficult for me to get here on my own. I won’t tell you about the children and grandchildren – you know everything anyway. But the great-grandchildren – well, those pishery (little scribes) – Ach, danke dir, Gotteniu! Alle gesund! (Oh, thank you God! All are healthy!)

      «The rabbi said today that we should «love our neighbor as ourselves» – and that this applies most of all to people of the same profession. Like for a cobbler it’s hardest of all to love another cobbler, or a tailor to love a tailor – because of the competition.

      «Well, what d’you know, he’s probably right, that young rabbi. He’s such a clever fellow. Of course, I didn’t tell him I was coming to see you. One shouldn’t break the sabbath, but I couldn’t do it any other day. It’s our anniversary today, not tomorrow, so I think He will forgive me.

      «But you just tell me what I should cook for you today. Ninety’s not all that much when you can boil your own potatoes and go to the store for milk. Well, okay, they bring milk to me – potatoes too, and I don’t boil them for myself very often. That Gentile, Galka, cooks pretty good. But I can say what I think!…

      «What are you so quiet for? You were always quiet – when you should have talked. And when you should have been silent, you would keep on wagging your tongue without stopping.

      «No, I’d better go moisten my cloth – I don’t like the way you look.»

      She headed over to the tap – they hadn’t yet cut off the water for the winter – and wiped the face in the photograph, just as she had wiped his face so many times whenever he came down with a temperature. And each time she did this, just like now, the same thought would come to mind: «And who wiped your face while you were in prison? You can’t tell me you didn’t come down with a temperature the whole eighteen years!»

      She neatly folded the cloth, placed it on the pediment behind the granite headstone, then straightened up and whispered directly to his face: «Konnst schon ein bissel rucken – ich welt sein bald – ja, ja! (You can start moving over, I won’t be long now – yes, yes!)»

      The light had already dimmed quite a bit, and the workers who had passed by her quite a few times in their mini-truck decided they ought to tell Filippovich13 that this old woman had been sitting a long time there without moving. At first she had been chattering away and swaying back and forth the way all Jews did, but now she was sitting there stock still, like a statue. Who knows whether she might have died right then and there – it was pretty cold.

      Filippovich let out an oath, pushed the table away with his bulging belly, and got up with a groan. As he ambled along the central allée he thought: everybody dies the same death. Still, it was rare for people to go together. It was always a lot harder for the one left behind.

      «There she is!» whispered a voice from behind his back. The worker who had been trailing him pointed. «She just sits herself there and don’t budge.» Filippovich paused by the low fence and coughed. The old woman wasn’t even moving a muscle.

      «Hey, lady!» Filippovich called out softly, but with no response. «Hey, lady! The grounds are closing. Do you need help?» He was starting to get involved – you could hear it in his voice.

      The old woman slowly turned her dark face toward him and tried to get up, leaning on her walking-stick, but she couldn’t move.

      «Give us a hand here!» Filippovich gestured to the man behind him, and the worker, wearing a warm jacket, stepped out from behind his back.

      «I’m all stuck here. Can’t do it!» he explained. Then the rotund Filippovich, who had a hard time bending over himself, leant forward and tried to take hold of the old woman’s elbow. She managed to get up, only to drop back to the bench.

      «Hoo, boy!» By this time he was really upset, not so much because of the elderly woman’s infirmity as the unexpected challenges that had come his way. «How come you’re all alone here, and on the Sabbath yet?»

      «No matter,» came the reply. «I’ll get up. I’ll get there. I wanted to do it on my own, ’cause…» She was wondering whether it СКАЧАТЬ