Conundrum (14 page)

Each
apartment
seem
s
worse than the previous. Nathan’s pervading
awareness is of
hunger. He
is
nearly starved in each home, as food
is
scarce and rationed. Foster parents often use ration coupons
to buy
their own food and deprive the children in their care. Nathan t
akes
to rummaging
through
the trash for scraps, even eating cockroaches he ca
tches
as they scurr
y
across floorboards and up walls.

His father’s promise
is
Nathan’s
only thread of hope—that he
will
return for him soon, and bring a Hershey bar. Nathan spen
ds
endless hours looking out windows to the sidewalks below, searching for his father’s shape, his coat, in the crowds on the streets. Every time a front door open
s
, Nathan rush
e
s
toward it
, hoping against hope that Mel Schumacher ha
s
come to save him from this horrific existence
, ha
s
rushed
to whisk him home, where he
will
be safe
and
where
his own bed awaits
.
He knows his
being pawned off on other families
had been
a
grave
mistake, and the error would be rectified, the traum
a
put behind them all. Oh
,
how his parents miss him and
did
all they could to arrange to get him back. It had been a terrible
thing they had done
out of necessity
, but Nathan forg
ives
them.

But as the months
grow
into years,
Nathan’s expectation bloom
s
into anger, and then hate. And it may not have ended so badly had his emotions remained
encapsulated
there. Instead, Nathan gr
ows
melancholy
with self-doubt and self-condemnation. Surely, the reason his father never return
s
is
he, Nathan,
is
unworthy of love. His sister
,
Judith
,
and brother Aaron
are
never handed off, thrown out like trash. Nathan
knows he
must have done something terribly
wrong
to earn his parents’ disgust, for them to forget him so readily.
He
i
s despicable and detestable, unworthy of
regard
.

So Nathan gr
ows
listless and depressed, wasting away with little notice until the
placement agency representative c
omes
to call at the foster home where Nathan and Samuel stay.
Nathan sle
eps
in a narrow bed with Samuel, who wet
s
the mattress each night as he sle
eps
. When Nathan refuse
s
to tell his foster mother who did such a heinous deed, she t
akes
out a belt and beat
s
both children raw. Nathan c
a
n’t bear to see Samuel so mistreated, so he admit
s
to the offense and t
akes
the daily beating upon himself.

By now, New York City
i
s inundated with casualties from the Great Depression. Children
ar
e often the ones that suffered most—from neglect and abuse. One look at my father’s
unwashed,
wasting body
i
s all it t
akes
for the woman from the agency to pull Nathan and Samuel out of their current home and into an orphanage where they
will
at least get bathed and eat real food.

Despite all the efforts of the workers at the orphanage, Nathan
will
not pull out of his depression, and he ha
s
to be force
-
fed. He slowly harden
s
into stone, and shove
s
the memories of his father, his mother, his siblings far, far back where they c
a
n’t haunt him ever again.
Through persistence, those at the orphanage
ar
e able to get Nathan stronger
. H
e gain
s
some weight, color c
o
me
s
back to h
is
face, and after a time he join
s
in with the other children in games and reading. A young woman volunteer notice
s
Nathan’s keen interest in books and t
eaches
him to read, which he latche
s
onto with a hunger not unlike his physical one.

Weeks later, the woman who r
uns
the orphanage interrupt
s
Nate as he s
its
on the floor, against the wall, reading a book.

“Nathan, I want you to meet someone.”

Nate look
s
up into the face of two small smiling people—a man and a woman who
approach
with their arms linked together.
He fe
els
their eyes assess him, and a stab of panic race
s
through him
as he
imagin
e
s
these two strangers taking him away from the only place he
’
s
ever felt safe and cared for. He drop
s
his gaze back to his book and scowl
s
, hoping his fierce expression w
ill
scare the couple away.

The director
speaks
again, in a soft voice that ma
k
e
s
Nathan dare lift his head. “These lovely people want to take you and Sammy home. They have two other sons, one your age. And you and Sammy would have your own room—and bathroom.”

Nathan look
s
up and scrutinize
s
the faces
bearing down on him
.
They smile in a friendly way, but h
e kn
ows
they c
a
n’t be trusted
;
no one c
an
.

He mumble
s
and look
s
at the floor.
“
Why can’t we stay here?
”

“Because this is no life for a child. You know that, Nathan. You and Sammy need a real home, a family.”

“I already had one of those.”

Nathan hear
s
the director sigh, resignation in her voice. Nathan
i
s doing what he c
an
to make those people disappear. They
ar
e just like all those other foster parents, smiling at first, assuring the placement agency they
a
re great parents, just love kids.
And then, once they’d get him and Sammy alone, it would start. The yelling, the starvation, the filth
, the beatings
. He let
s
his mind harden and tighten
s
his muscles. He w
ill
not budge. There
i
s no way they
will
make him
g
o. No way.

Nathan lift
s
his eyes at the sound of his brother running over and laughing.
He
watche
s
in surprise and fear as Sam
my
grab
s
the lady’s leg and hug
s
it in a fit of giggles. Nathan jump
s
to his feet to pull Sam
my
away, but stop
s
as he watche
s
the woman look down and stroke Sam
my
’s head. There
i
s something so
natural
and comforting in her gesture that Nathan fr
eezes
up and watche
s
in fascination.
Sam
my
i
s naturally affectionate and happy-go-lucky, but what d
oes
he know? He
i
s only about three years old. Life at the orphanage, for Sammy,
i
s an adventure and full of games and puzzles and snacks.
He’d walk off with anyone, and that’s why it
i
s Nathan’s job to look out for him, to protect him from the evil in the world—evil that lurk
s
just steps outside the door to the orphanage
.

But something melt
s
in Nathan at that moment, as the director st
ands
watching him, as Samuel play
s
catch-me, circling the woman’s legs
with
the couple laughing at his antics and tousling his red hair.
Some fierce need
takes
hold of Nathan,
the way
a thirsty wanderer spying an oasis in the desert
might feel
,
the sight
compounding his need, making him hurry. The
mirage-like
sight of simple affection and careless laughter prod
s
in
him
the courage to take a hesitant step forward.

Samuel, breathless from his antics, drop
s
laughing to the floor, but the woman lift
s
her head and me
e
t
s
Nathan’s eyes, and without
reservation
open
s
her arms to him. Before he c
an
think, forcing away chastisements and war
n
ings erupting in his heart
,
he f
alls
into her arms and let
s
their warmth and comfort enfold him. He fe
e
l
s
a manly pat on his shoulder and look
s
into the encouraging eyes of Arthur Sitteroff.

The kindly old orphanage director
says,
“Just try it for a few weeks. If you don’t feel comfortable there, you can come back here, okay
,
sugar
? Would you like that?”

Nathan’s throat close
s
up so tightly the words c
a
n’t come out. He nod
s
and presse
s
tears back. He c
a
n’t let them see him cry. Crying
i
s for sissies, and only result
s
in a beating.
He kne
e
l
s
and look
s
at Sammy’s wide sparkling eyes and sp
eaks
in a whisper.

“What do you think? Do you want to go home with these people?”

Sammy nod
s
and thr
o
w
s
his arms around Nathan. Little soft arms tha
t muss up his shirt and hair.

“Okay,” Nathan t
ells
him
,
feeling a great weight lift from his heart
. “Then let’s get your stuff.”

My uncle told me many stories while I visited with him and Mandy. What it was like for him and my father growing up in the West Bronx,
that my dad was
well liked. I was surprised to hear he loved musical theater, and when in high school starred in some school plays and actually sang in front of an audience. Somehow
those images
didn’t jibe with my
picture
of the serious scientist.
My dad—singing Gilbert and Sullivan?
But I was glad to hear my father had a happy life growing up with the Sitteroffs. That at least he had some years unencumbered by anger, guilt, or misery.