Chapter Two
I ran to my house as fast as my beaten body would allow me. I hobbled up the stairs, past the two Chassids that sat arguing endlessly about what is a sin and what's not and endless other theological debates. Luckily, they paid no attention to me as I made my way to our apartment with my muddy books in hand.
I opened the door to Number 14 slowly. The old hinges squeaked their greeting as I opened it wider. Mameh sat on the kitchen table, her sewing things spread out mending one of Tateh's shirts. I tried to sneak past her and get to the room Tova and I shared, but she caught me.
"Think you can sneak by me without saying hello, Yosef?" She asked with her usual smile.
"No." I answered flatly, trying to shrink into the corner and prayed to G-d to turn me into a mouse right then.
She looked up at me and her jaw dropped. The scissors in her hand fell to the floor with a loud bang and her mouth was so agape I could almost see her tonsils.
"YOSEF! What happened to you? Were you fighting with the Rosenbaum boys again?"
I nodded slowly. I don't know why, but back then I didn't want her to know it had been because of who I was. I guess I was ashamed to think that she might be somehow ashamed of me.
She surveyed me and ripped the books out of my hands. Tateh's book was on the top, its one fine pages were now encrusted with mud.
"Do you know how long this has been in our family, young man?" She screamed, her brown eyes on fire. I nodded meekly. "Just go to your room. I can't even look at you right now. Get cleaned up and don't bother coming out for dinner."
I nodded, on the verge of tears. I escaped to my room, which Tova was already in, occupying her bed. She was reading, something my father thought girls shouldn't do, so she kept a secret stash of dime novels underneath her bed. Nice Jewish girls were supposed to learn how to cook and clean and have babies and keep the house kosher, not read, according to our father.
Tova looked up at me and surveyed me. A small giggle escaped her.
"What?" I asked angrily, going to my closet and ripping my only other shirt off its hanger.
"You're so in trouble." She replied. Even though we were close, we always liked to get each other angry, like any normal brother and sister. "I can't believe you fought with those kids again."
"Just shut up." I told her gathering my clean clothes.
"Someone's a little touchy." She answered rolling over to face the wall.
"Look, you don't know anything about it." I replied, marching off to the washroom and cleaning myself off.
As I washed my face and changed my shirt, I looked at myself in our old mirror. I had a big black eye and cuts all over my face.
Was I lower than everyone else because I was a Jew? Was that the way things really were? I didn't know. All I knew at that moment was my body hurt and I felt lower than the rats that crawled up and down the alleys.
I spent a good hour in there, thinking things over.and thinking things nine year olds shouldn't think, knowing feelings children shouldn't feel.
When I walked into my room, Tova was already gone and I could hear the clanging of dishes and my family's laughter in the other room. I covered my head and fell asleep, feeling more isolated from the world than ever.
I ran to my house as fast as my beaten body would allow me. I hobbled up the stairs, past the two Chassids that sat arguing endlessly about what is a sin and what's not and endless other theological debates. Luckily, they paid no attention to me as I made my way to our apartment with my muddy books in hand.
I opened the door to Number 14 slowly. The old hinges squeaked their greeting as I opened it wider. Mameh sat on the kitchen table, her sewing things spread out mending one of Tateh's shirts. I tried to sneak past her and get to the room Tova and I shared, but she caught me.
"Think you can sneak by me without saying hello, Yosef?" She asked with her usual smile.
"No." I answered flatly, trying to shrink into the corner and prayed to G-d to turn me into a mouse right then.
She looked up at me and her jaw dropped. The scissors in her hand fell to the floor with a loud bang and her mouth was so agape I could almost see her tonsils.
"YOSEF! What happened to you? Were you fighting with the Rosenbaum boys again?"
I nodded slowly. I don't know why, but back then I didn't want her to know it had been because of who I was. I guess I was ashamed to think that she might be somehow ashamed of me.
She surveyed me and ripped the books out of my hands. Tateh's book was on the top, its one fine pages were now encrusted with mud.
"Do you know how long this has been in our family, young man?" She screamed, her brown eyes on fire. I nodded meekly. "Just go to your room. I can't even look at you right now. Get cleaned up and don't bother coming out for dinner."
I nodded, on the verge of tears. I escaped to my room, which Tova was already in, occupying her bed. She was reading, something my father thought girls shouldn't do, so she kept a secret stash of dime novels underneath her bed. Nice Jewish girls were supposed to learn how to cook and clean and have babies and keep the house kosher, not read, according to our father.
Tova looked up at me and surveyed me. A small giggle escaped her.
"What?" I asked angrily, going to my closet and ripping my only other shirt off its hanger.
"You're so in trouble." She replied. Even though we were close, we always liked to get each other angry, like any normal brother and sister. "I can't believe you fought with those kids again."
"Just shut up." I told her gathering my clean clothes.
"Someone's a little touchy." She answered rolling over to face the wall.
"Look, you don't know anything about it." I replied, marching off to the washroom and cleaning myself off.
As I washed my face and changed my shirt, I looked at myself in our old mirror. I had a big black eye and cuts all over my face.
Was I lower than everyone else because I was a Jew? Was that the way things really were? I didn't know. All I knew at that moment was my body hurt and I felt lower than the rats that crawled up and down the alleys.
I spent a good hour in there, thinking things over.and thinking things nine year olds shouldn't think, knowing feelings children shouldn't feel.
When I walked into my room, Tova was already gone and I could hear the clanging of dishes and my family's laughter in the other room. I covered my head and fell asleep, feeling more isolated from the world than ever.