17
Toronto 1961
I always thought of Avrom as an angry person. The source of this anger, I really couldn’t fathom. But it lay there in his throat choking his being, flooding his soul with rage. I didn’t know why but he hated me with limitless energy. I fed it and didn’t help myself by deliberately needling him at every opportunity. I supposed his enmity had to do with Miryam, as he saw our connection as a dangerous affront to everything he believed and all he stood for. I’m sure he loved Miryam in his own way but he’d been brought up to believe that women were chattel and they needed to conform to the teachings of traditional orthodox Jewish roles. Miryam had the misfortune to end up in the wrong family. She also had the misfortune of meeting me. Meeting her seemed a blessing, or so I tho
