Dasvidaniya

Chapter 2

Chapter 2On a blistering Saturday in July of that year, a tall, broad-shouldered, golden-haired man came out of the sun. He knocked on our door. My father went to greet this stranger as we children crowded around.

“Come in, my friend,” Chaim Goldman cried.

“Thank you,” said the stranger, and set his gleaming leather suitcase on the floor in the limestone foyer. My mother came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on an apron. When she saw this blond deity, her hands flew up to fix her disheveled hair.

“Darling. Children, I want you to meet Frederick Valens of Warsaw. I know his father very well. We are in business together … and did you know,” he asked, making sure to look straight at me, “that Frederick is still the finest boxer in all of Eastern Europe and Russia?”

“Stop,” said Frederick obviously enjoying the compliments. “You flatter me too much. I haven't boxed for over a year.” His teeth were brilliant. Katya's jaw hung open while Simmy simply stared. Papa introduced each of us. I muttered a terse hello under my breath, recoiling from the open smile, the glowing good looks.

Frederick bowed low over my mother's hand and she blushed like a schoolgirl. I snorted in derision. Frederick turned to me.

“Your father tells me you have a bad temper and fight a lot, is this true?”

I shrugged. “Now and then. It's nothing really.” And what business was it of his?

Frederick nodded in agreement. The shine on his golden hair blazed in the light. “I can see by the marks on your knuckles and the scratches on your face that you have been busy. But while I'm here, maybe you can show me what you can do.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Anything is possible.”

Frederick laughed. “A good fighter enjoys the spirit of combat, wouldn't you say?”

I found myself irritated by this guy. “School's over. I'm working in the mill now.”

My father stepped forward, humiliation burning his face, but Frederick held up his hand. “It's all right, Chaim. I don't mind.”

Papa beckoned to our guest. “Come Frederick, I'll show you your room. There will be plenty of time for boxing later. Mordecai, take the case.”

“Why can't Pyotr do it?”

Papa stopped in his tracks. He balled his fists and as he did so, his lips trembled, his eyes infused with outrage. I knew that look well, so I squashed my resentment and solemnly picked up the case. Papa forced himself to turn back to Frederick, his body rigid with fury.

Reluctantly, I followed the tall, laughing man up the staircase and wondered why he was so happy. Katya stood at the bottom of the stairs and continued to stare after him, open-mouthed. I glanced back while manhandling the valise.

Frederick Valens chatted away effortlessly during lunch telling us about his travels around Europe, his boxing exploits and after, when he entered the family business. He had traveled widely and visited many places, many cities. I took it in sullenly, barely listening.

“Are you a Jew?” I blurted. My parents looked at me in horror. Katya gasped. Only Simmy stifled a smile.

“No, I'm not,” he replied then cleared his throat.

“Then you're a Polack?”

“Mordecai,” Papa thundered.

Frederick's long face froze, his blue eyes clear and bright.

“No, it's all right. My mother is Polish and my father, a German.”

“And why do you do business with a Jew?” I asked.

Papa shot up from the table, but Frederick held his hand up.

“It's because we have a good business together. It makes perfect sense. We all make money and that's why we're in business, isn't it?”

“Mordecai,” said Mama sharply. “Enough questions. What is the matter with you?” She stood up to clear the table and by her brusque gestures, I could see she too was annoyed. Katya went to help Mama, turning her back on me. We males sat, as was the custom. There was an awkward silence.

“A wonderful lunch, Mrs. Goldman. But altogether, far too much food. It has made me sleepy.”

Mama smiled timidly, unused to compliments. “But I like to see everyone eat well. It is a blessing.”

“Then I can see you have many blessings and often,” he replied. Then he turned to me, his blue eyes glittering. “Mordecai, what do you say to a little workout. Get rid of this lunch?”

I shrugged. “As you wish.”

“Good. Put on short pants and an undershirt. I don't suppose you have any athletic shoes?” I shook my head. “All right. Regular shoes then but no boots. Off you go.” I turned to my father who'd been silent.

“Yes, fine…go…go…” He waved his hand, then turned to Frederick. “There is a good spot around the back. It is shaded.”

“I like the heat,” Frederick replied and stared purposefully at me.

“You were asking for it, huh, Mr. G?”

“Maybe I was. It was the arrogance of youth. From the beginning, I didn't like this fellow. He was too perfect it seemed to me, too pretty if you know what I mean. Frederick had this idea that he was superior, better than others, or so I thought at the time.”

“He give you a whuppin?”

I laughed. “Wait and see.”