A Journey of Words

Secrets of our Grandfathers

Secrets of our GrandfathersS.M.

“Do you think it’s silly for me to want it so badly?” Ali questioned, threading her arm through Steven’s and pushing the antique shop’s door to leave. With the chime of the exit bell still ringing behind them, Ali put on her gloves to combat the cold.

She had removed them in the shop when the urge to run her hand over the grainy well-worn leather of a used trunk suitcase came over her. The surface was rough and imperfect, yet sturdy, she discovered, when she nearly tripped over it. The overlooked luggage felt like a trusty old friend and filled her with immediate warmth. When she examined it, a sensation of familiarity resulted in a rapid chill of goose bumps.

Ali could still feel them as she struggled to fit each finger in its respective place within her leather gloves. She leaned into Steven as they strolled down the sidewalk, shielding herself from any further drop in body temperature.

“I just wish I had a need for it, but that’s not what we’re shopping for today. We must find you a nightstand for our new Brooklyn apartment. I can’t believe we’re moving in together!” Ali ended her assorted ramblings more excitedly now. “And you know what else? I don’t even know how practical that kind of suitcase would be. I would look silly with it, wouldn’t I?”

“Nah, nah,” Steven responded. “I mean, it is a pretty neatlookin’ suitcase, and I know what it’s like to find something that brings back great memories.” Steven smiled and leaned in to kiss her rosy cheek, hitting primarily the braid that swung from the side of her head. Not disappointed that he missed his target, he took in the scent of her perfumed shampoo. He was aware she spoke mostly to herself rather than to him, but he loved her all the more for it.

“Well, I don’t know if I would go that far.” Ali paused in the middle of the sidewalk to check her phone for directions to the next secondhand store on their list. “I just felt drawn to it,…you know?” Ali muttered, half distracted by the app on her cell.

Hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his feet to combat the cold, Steven watched patiently as Ali got her bearings. “I thought you said in the store, all wide-eyed with wonder, ‘I remember this!’” Steven gestured and teased.

“I did? I mean, yeah, I did. It’s, umm, complicated, I guess. I remember a story…We need to make a left here and then walk five blocks.”

“Okay, okay, little ones. Settle down. Settle, I say,” Grandpa Rutman muttered slowly with the greatest of patience and waved his hands. “All right, all right, children. Sit. Gather ’round. Come, come right here at my feet. I don’t like to shout. Enough with the running and tagging. The Seder dinner will be ready soon, and it has come to my attention all you young ones are badly in need of a story.”

“Ah, Grandpa! We already know the story of Passover and Moses and the Ten Commandments and the slaves. Ugh. I’m so tiiiired of it. Can’t we just play with our cousins and friends?” Like a rag doll, Liza plopped on the floor beside her friend Alison and crossed her legs.

Ali looked around the room and pulled in her arms. She didn’t know the story of Passover; she didn’t even know what a Seder was. She just thought she was staying with her friend Liza for the weekend while Ali’s parents were out of town.

Liza had a great house, always filled with noise and family, but tonight might take the cake. Ali was overwhelmed by all the people, words, and prayers she didn’t know. She focused her attention on Grandpa Rutman for comfort. She liked Liza’s grandpa. He was funny, and always gentle and kind with Ali. He pretended to forget who she was when she visited. He would greet her with a large smile and a twinkle in his eye.

“And who is this charming little girl in our home? We must celebrate our new visitor.”

“Grandpa Rutman,” Liza would shout, coupling a foot stomp with a classic eye roll. “You know my friend Alison. Ali?…Doesn’t it ring a bell? Remember? She’s only here all the time.”

“Ah, yes. Miss Alison, it’s always so nice to see you, every time we meet. I just never know when to expect your visits. Welcome. We must celebrate the return of our friend!”

Ali didn’t know anyone who made quite as big a deal of seeing her than Grandpa Rutman, even if it was likely he acted the same toward everyone.

“No, no, Liza. Just settle. Settle, small ones, so everyone can hear. I won’t tell the story of our people’s exodus from Egypt. Tonight I’ll tell a story, but it’ll be about a different kind of an escape…”

Melena was mindful as she disembarked the train, clutching the heavy suitcase in one hand. She couldn’t afford to slip on the narrow metal step but allowed herself the luxury of pausing to feel the fresh snow’s crunch beneath her feet. Melena gripped the suitcase in a balancing act as she turned and held up her hand toward her other greatest treasure.

Little Luca, his tiny hand in a wool mitten, reached cautiously for his sister and, once hand in hand, hopped to the platform.

“Is she here? Do you see our tante?” Luca quickly whispered with excitement. “Lena, do you see the man with the cane?” Luca’s voice quivered and then subsided to a whine.

“Shh! Hush now, Luca. Just give me a minute.”

Melena lifted her chin and whipped around her head, scanning the crowd. She could not harbor the same childish trepidation Luca indulged in. She needed her wits, yet her long sleepless train ride throughout the night had already taken its toll. While Luca recaptured his dreams in slumber after the day’s events, Melena had barely rested.

She thought about her grandparents frantically shoving tickets in her hands but taking the time to gently place Luca’s mittens on his hands and a scarf around his neck so as not to panic him. Nana and Grandfather each kissed one side of Luca’s face and smiled when they told him how he would visit his mother’s dearest sister and how she would be as kind to him as his mother ever was.

Melena’s grandfather gingerly placed a suitcase in her hand and waivered before letting go, as though he was surrendering a burden he never wished for her. Melena reassured her grandfather with a nod, and he released his grip. “Lena, you must go to your Tante Meta. You need to hurry and don’t let anyone stop you. Read this on the train and then destroy it. Don’t worry. You will come to know what you must do.”

Melena could barely recall her Aunt Meta’s face, but there was no time for questions, tears, or good-byes.

“Hurry—or you’ll miss the train,” Nana shouted, as she shoved them out the door.

Melena only had a vague sense of what was at stake after she had read her grandfather’s note. She spent the remainder of the night scanning the cabin for signs of the man with the cane or any other characters who could be tracking their progress.

Melena knew she should rest but could not forget the way the man’s black overcoat had flailed as he had run to catch up to them. Melena couldn’t be sure of when he had started to follow them, but at some point during the chase, he must have figured they were heading for the train station.

He had pursued them for over three kilometers, down every ally and around every corner. He was slow, due to his chronic limp, but had kept pace while shaking his black cane with the rounded gold top in the air, shouting, “Stop, children! Stop, I say! Please someone stop them!”

No one on the street seemed to hear or pay any mind to the commotion, so nobody hindered Melina and Luca.

Melena had noticed the inhabitants of her city and her neighbors hardening in the recent months, and that callous manner had aided her and Luca’s getaway. She was not certain why people no longer looked each other in the eye or exchanged common social greetings. While it was true, where she came from, smiling was not given out freely. It was reserved for laughing at songs or regarding harmless bad luck or watching children at play, but even these transactions had recently disappeared.

As a child of twelve, Melena had no understanding of the political and social climate change within her environment but was old enough to be responsible for adjusting her behavior accordingly.

Melena had grown accustomed to her questions going unanswered and to leaving the room when the adults were speaking. She was not to trouble herself with the matters of grown-ups and was obligated to make herself scarce during her grandfather’s meetings. Lately he had had many visitors.

Even so, Melena knew the man with the cane was no friend of her grandfather’s. She had witnessed this man’s arrival several times in the last year, watching as Nana never put on the kettle for him and refused to show him into the house. Rather, when the rapping of his cane was heard at the back door, she simply unchained the master lock and turned on her heel up the stairs, beckoning with the silent wave of one hand for Melena and Luca to follow her.

“There you are!”

Melena startled and tightened her grip on the brown leather suitcase, squeezing Luca’s hand as she pulled him closer. Luca wedged his body between her arm and hip while forcing his eyes shut. Somewhere in this nervous moment, Melena’s widened eyes recognized the aunt she had not seen since before her parents’ passing years ago.

“Children, don’t look so troubled. It’s only your Tante Meta. I’m here. You’re here, and all will be well. Oh, and what a big and handsome young man this one is,” Tante Meta said, as she reached down to cup little Luca’s rounded cheeks.

Luca’s brows, contorted in distress, softened to his aunt’s touch, and a meek smile appeared during this rare moment of physical affection from an adult.

“Lena, we must feed this boy, mustn’t we? Go around the corner there, to the end of the platform, and pick up some apples for our ride to the house, won’t you? Here’s some change, and I can watch your luggage.”

Melena readjusted her shoulders, intensified her grip on the suitcase—safeguarding her grandfather’s secrets—and altered her expression to appear less downtrodden by the events of the last twenty-four hours. “It’s okay. It’s really not that heavy. I’ll find the shiniest ones, yes, Luca?” Melena smiled warmly while Luca enthusiastically nodded with a wrinkle of his nose.

Tante Meta and Luca watched Melena’s hat shift slightly over her blond girlish curls. Her curls bounced in unison with her steps, catching snowflakes, as she walked toward the street grocer. Tante Meta turned to Luca, giving him soft caresses and loud compliments—praises for his strong, young frame and sturdy knees.

Luca, enthralled by the attention, almost didn’t notice his sister’s shriek until he was heaved toward the noise with such a momentum his footing gave out in the snow.

Lying on the sidewalk near Melena, a gold ball atop a black cane peeked around the corner. Luca’s sister, his faithful protector, clutched their grandfather’s large suitcase to her chest with determination as she appeared ready to strike another blow to the now unconscious man beneath her feet.

The grocer turned his attention to his only other customer. Each pretended not to notice these events.

Tante Meta’s expression became grave. “Melena, I had hoped you’d be able to rest before leaving us.” Tante Meta’s voice was not much louder than a whisper but conducted with the power of a monarch as she outstretched her hand toward Melena. “Here, take these. Directions and enough money to get you through the next month, whatever you may encounter. Taxis usually wait around the second corner. Go to the next address, where it will be safe to read the next set of instructions. May your wisdom and strength carry you through your journey. Now hurry!”

Tante Meta raised her boot backward before swinging a swift kick to the man-with-the-cane’s head, buying Melena some time.

The unexpected casual act of violence shook Melena out of her shock, and she quickly lunged for the money and the papers in her aunt’s hand before looking down at Luca.

Luca stepped forward, neared Melena, but she did not reach for him in reciprocation. Instead she covered her mouth, muffling her own cry of heartbreak as she backed away from her precious cherub.

Distraught and confused, Luca looked into Melena’s watery eyes as she slowly shook her head back and forth in refusal. “Lena!” Luca shouted in protest, but Melena’s face stayed firm, resolved with the duty entrusted to her.

Luca searched rapidly for the words to change whatever was happening but found none in his youthful brain. Without the ability to anchor himself in the silky snow, he couldn’t challenge the forceful and quick tugging of his new guardian. Through his incomprehensible mutterings of opposition, he still heard the clank of Melena’s boots as she ran in the opposite direction.

Luca craned his head and saw the large suitcase flutter through the air as his sister rounded the bend. He strained a bit more but only caught a glimpse of her curls unraveling in all the frenzy, as they bobbed and waved to him for the last time.

“Kids! Dinner!”

The children rose and scampered into the great room in unsynchronized unity at the promise of food. Grandpa Rutman rose slowly from his chair, nursing the pain in his leg. He fumbled slightly and leaned into the end table, noticing Ali still sitting on the floor, uncomfortably shifting her weight side to side.

“Alison, come. Aren’t you hungry? I’m an old man and cannot bend to help you up. I can barely get up myself.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Ali rebutted, as she rose and extended her arm to assist Grandpa Rutman into the next room. “I was just thinking about the story.”

“Ah, yes. It’s an interesting tale, no? But so serious and not very fun for children, I suppose. However, I’m not surprised a smart girl like you was captivated by it.”

“But whatever happened to the girl and Luca, and what was in the suitcase?”

“Well, that may wait for another time. Think of it as the next chapter,” Grandpa Rutman offered.

“But it has no ending…it doesn’t seem fair. We don’t know what comes next.”

Grandpa Rutman hrmed aloud to show he understood she had paid attention to the story but gently shook his head in disagreement.

“Dear Miss Alison, not one of us knows what the future will bring in the next chapter of our lives. We do know, from the story tonight, Melena escaped from the man with the cane on a snowy day and delivered her brother to safety. The rest cannot be guaranteed, but the achievement of this alone is momentous enough to celebrate. We must never take for granted the miraculous impact that faith, determination, and a little bit of luck or good fortune can have in our world. Now don’t bother your sweet young mind with the tale of Melena and Luca for now. It’s time to eat and celebrate Passover with the rest of our friends and family.”

“Well, Ali, it might not look as awesome as my new badass nightstand, but I’m glad we went back to get the suitcase for you. Otherwise I have a sneaky suspicion I wouldn’t hear the end of it for years to come,” Steven said.

“Years to come? Someone is pretty confident about our new living situation, aren’t they?” Ali teased, sitting cross-legged while fondling her new vintage suitcase.

Steven smiled at her, then became slightly irritated when she didn’t look at him. Instead she continued tinkering with the suitcase. “Ali, what’s up? Is it busted or something? What are you doing?”

Ali grunted as she moved her hand across the lining at each inside corner. “I just, ugh, think…I feel something. If I could only get to it. Oh, I don’t know!”

Ali made one last frustrated attempt, tugging at the suitcase’s inner corner before unraveling a thin thread of the lining. She frantically plucked and fingered to gain access and quickly rose to excitement as she reached between the lining and the outer frame.

Steven stared, both surprised and thoughtful, as Ali victoriously produced an envelope from the hidden pocket. His curiosity became concern as he watched Ali inspect the envelope before tearing into it.

“I knew it!” she blurted out.

Steven’s concern returned to a slight irritation as he witnessed Ali’s eyes narrowing and widening, raising her palm to shush him every time he tried to inquire about the contents. Finally Ali looked at Steven more seriously than he had ever beheld her. The metamorphosis was only for a moment, but he already missed her childish sense of humor and quirkiness.

“Steven, I am so sorry. I know we took off these two weeks to move in together and to organize the apartment, but I need my passport from our new nightstand. I’ve gotta go. Tonight, if I can. Yesterday would have been even better. Shoot! I hope I have clean clothes to pack!”

Steven was overtaken by her flurry of activity about the room. He did not understand what had just happened or why, and didn’t even know how to begin to ask about it. For now, he could only stand still, his mouth agape, and watch his sweet Ali’s braid untangle along her back as she turned repeatedly from the bed to the closet, filling the suitcase he had insisted she buy.

“Ali?” Steven pressed.

Ali turned to Steven, all smiles, as she grabbed the envelope, waving it between them. “Steven, it’s time for me to find the next chapter!”