Chapter Three
I woke up the next morning, my stomach grumbling terribly. I stretched and yawned and made my way to the kitchen, completely ravenous.
I stumbled into the other room, looking for something to eat. My eyes fell on the clock and to my surprise, it read it was already 10AM. The house was completely still. I looked to the table, where I found a note in my mother's scrawled writing:
Yosef,
Your father, sister and I have gone to Coney Island for the day. Your Tateh decided you should be punished by not being able to do anything social, even with us, for the next month. You will go to shul and Hebrew school and that's it and you will earn the money to buy him another book soon. We'll see you when we get home..and your father would like to have a talk with you. I have left you lunch in the ice box.
Love, Mameh
I read the note and sighed. An entire month without baseball? Without my friends? Without our secret trips to Sheepshead Bay? I rested my head on the table and finished off a piece of bread I had begun.
After eating, I went to my room, where I tried to get lost in some of my sister's books, but I reasoned I wasn't as good as the imagination stuff as Tova.
I stretched out on my bed, trying to figure out something to do when I heard a knock at the door. It was the old man who lived one flight down who talked to my father often.
"Oh, Tateh's out." I told him dismissively.
"No..Yosef, that's not what I came to talk to you about." He told me with sad eyes.
I looked at him questioningly and sat down when he motioned for me to. He took a seat across from me.
"You know we've been having problems with anti-semites in the area..and, well..your family was attacked on their way home." He explained.
My brown eyes opened as big as saucers.
"ATTACKED?!" I almost yelled. "How so? They're all right aren't they?"
He shook his head.
"I'm afraid they've been killed..."
My heart started beating faster, my pulse began to race.
"NO! You're lying." I yelled, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "They're not dead. G-d's not that cruel."
He just stared at me while I threw my fit. I went around the house, yelling, screaming, kicking everything, cursing G-d, telling Him how much I hated Him.
After I had calmed down a little and was contented to sob on the kitchen table, the Old Man scooted closer to me and put an arm around me in a very grandfatherly way.
"Where am I gonna live?" I asked him, looking up, my brown eyes red from crying.
He swallowed hard. "The Jewish Children's Home."
My eyes grew wide. There? Why there? Those children were the disgusting and filthy ones who sat in the back of the Temple during Sabbath.
He told me to pack my things, which I did immediately, not wanting anything to do with this house anymore. He slowly took me the mile to the Children's Home, which was on the outskirts of the Hebrew Quarter.
As night fell, I listened to the other children breath calmly in and out. I tossed and turned and finally gave up on sleep. I tiptoed over to the window and sat on the sill and looked into the sky.
"G-d, I hate you." I told him out loud. I vowed that the prayers they would make us say didn't mean anything anymore. I would gamble every chance I got. I would do everything I was ever told was wrong.
That night, their faces kept haunting me. Tova running, her long braids falling behind her. Tateh playing baseball with me, Mameh endlessly fawning over us children. And they were gone. All gone. Never would I see them again.
After I told G-d I hated him, I made a vow to escape as soon as I could. I wasn't Jewish anymore..sure it was an ethnicity, but a religion too. If I left, no one would ever have to know I was Jewish.
I woke up the next morning, my stomach grumbling terribly. I stretched and yawned and made my way to the kitchen, completely ravenous.
I stumbled into the other room, looking for something to eat. My eyes fell on the clock and to my surprise, it read it was already 10AM. The house was completely still. I looked to the table, where I found a note in my mother's scrawled writing:
Yosef,
Your father, sister and I have gone to Coney Island for the day. Your Tateh decided you should be punished by not being able to do anything social, even with us, for the next month. You will go to shul and Hebrew school and that's it and you will earn the money to buy him another book soon. We'll see you when we get home..and your father would like to have a talk with you. I have left you lunch in the ice box.
Love, Mameh
I read the note and sighed. An entire month without baseball? Without my friends? Without our secret trips to Sheepshead Bay? I rested my head on the table and finished off a piece of bread I had begun.
After eating, I went to my room, where I tried to get lost in some of my sister's books, but I reasoned I wasn't as good as the imagination stuff as Tova.
I stretched out on my bed, trying to figure out something to do when I heard a knock at the door. It was the old man who lived one flight down who talked to my father often.
"Oh, Tateh's out." I told him dismissively.
"No..Yosef, that's not what I came to talk to you about." He told me with sad eyes.
I looked at him questioningly and sat down when he motioned for me to. He took a seat across from me.
"You know we've been having problems with anti-semites in the area..and, well..your family was attacked on their way home." He explained.
My brown eyes opened as big as saucers.
"ATTACKED?!" I almost yelled. "How so? They're all right aren't they?"
He shook his head.
"I'm afraid they've been killed..."
My heart started beating faster, my pulse began to race.
"NO! You're lying." I yelled, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "They're not dead. G-d's not that cruel."
He just stared at me while I threw my fit. I went around the house, yelling, screaming, kicking everything, cursing G-d, telling Him how much I hated Him.
After I had calmed down a little and was contented to sob on the kitchen table, the Old Man scooted closer to me and put an arm around me in a very grandfatherly way.
"Where am I gonna live?" I asked him, looking up, my brown eyes red from crying.
He swallowed hard. "The Jewish Children's Home."
My eyes grew wide. There? Why there? Those children were the disgusting and filthy ones who sat in the back of the Temple during Sabbath.
He told me to pack my things, which I did immediately, not wanting anything to do with this house anymore. He slowly took me the mile to the Children's Home, which was on the outskirts of the Hebrew Quarter.
As night fell, I listened to the other children breath calmly in and out. I tossed and turned and finally gave up on sleep. I tiptoed over to the window and sat on the sill and looked into the sky.
"G-d, I hate you." I told him out loud. I vowed that the prayers they would make us say didn't mean anything anymore. I would gamble every chance I got. I would do everything I was ever told was wrong.
That night, their faces kept haunting me. Tova running, her long braids falling behind her. Tateh playing baseball with me, Mameh endlessly fawning over us children. And they were gone. All gone. Never would I see them again.
After I told G-d I hated him, I made a vow to escape as soon as I could. I wasn't Jewish anymore..sure it was an ethnicity, but a religion too. If I left, no one would ever have to know I was Jewish.