Dreams of Bread and Fire (30 page)

The baby’s fair face was round and his hair dark. Ani also saw that her dad’s countenance was a hybrid of his parents’ features: eyes from his mother, nose and cheeks from his father. On the next page there was a photo of the extended family sitting around a table. Ani’s father was perched in a high chair and there was a new baby in his mother’s arms.

“That was our apartment in Washington Heights. Those are the Orlovskys, my mother’s side. And the Silvers, my father’s family,” Mrs. K. explained.

By the last pages David Silver had grown to his full height and began to look like the photo Ani knew from his high school days. At his college graduation he wore a cap and gown, and about twenty family members were grouped around him.

Mrs. K. pushed out a heavy sigh. “After that we have no pictures of David. You must understand, for our family being Jewish isn’t like a nationality. It’s a religion and a way of life. When David married outside he turned his back on us and everything we believe in. He knew that, but he had to have this girl.

“My father was a hard man and a proud man. My mother might have been softer on David, but my father’s wishes she respected. He was lost to us, and then—again he died. You see he was my little brother and on him I couldn’t turn my back. I kept in touch. But the girl I couldn’t forgive. Now I know it wasn’t her. David wanted a different life.” She was silent for a moment, staring into the distance.

Suddenly Mrs. K. slammed the photo album shut. “It is time for you to go.”

The finality of the woman’s tone hit Ani like a brick.

Ani’s face contracted with stubbornness. This one visit wasn’t enough. She needed more. She wouldn’t let herself be put out on the sidewalk with nothing.

Ani asked, “May I please have another glass of water?”

Mrs. Kantrowitz said coldly, “All right.”

While her aunt was in the kitchen Ani placed her palm on the embossed black leather cover of the album. She didn’t want to think—she was tired of thinking. It was time to act. She gathered up the album, her coat and bag, and moved swiftly toward the door.

When Mrs. Kantrowitz returned with the glass of seltzer Ani was several flights away, dashing down the back stairs.

On the final landing, Ani stopped to catch her breath. It would look suspicious to the doorman if she were panting as she went by.

She imagined Mrs. Kantrowitz emerging from the apartment screaming, “Thief! Stop, thief!” She would stump down the stairs behind Ani brandishing a long kitchen knife.

Ani tucked the album against her body, arranging her coat over her arm in such a way that the book was camouflaged.

In the lobby Ani glided past the doorman, briefly making eye contact with him as he held the door. “Thanks. Have a good evening,” she said.

“You should put on your coat, young lady. It’s getting chilly,” he called after her.

The avenue was darkening as she hurried away. Near the river the purple-blue sky was scarred with sooty branches. She didn’t want the lonely river. She wanted a blur of faces hurtling past like comets. She turned to Broadway, with its brightly lit storefronts and Korean markets where sidewalk stands were piled high with fruit, vegetables, and flowers. The 99-Cent Store was garishly decked out with Christmas lights. Cars, trucks, and buses surged up and down.

A man marched by with an armload of dry cleaning in a plastic bag. A toddler wrapped to the chin in a crocheted blanket was wheeled by in a stroller. Ani passed a bar window lit with beer logos. Inside a row of men sat at the counter with glass mugs and cigarettes watching football scenes on the television behind the bar. An old woman wearing a hat with floppy cloth flowers on the brim peered with concern into Ani’s face.

Why you steal that poor woman’s pictures, Ani? Grandma queried.

I don’t want to answer that question, Grandma.

You gonna give them back?

I don’t want to answer that question either.

Leave the girl alone, Mariam, Baba admonished. Can’t you see she’s upset?

She’s upset? Violet asked. I told her not to call that woman. I told her the Silvers didn’t want anything to do with her. Why doesn’t she listen to me?

Listen to you? All I ever do is listen to you. All of you take up too much space in my head. Next thing you know Van’s going to chime in, and Elena, and Asa. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear from Dana Grimaldi.

And how does that make you feel? Levin asked.

Not you. I forgot about you.

Why do you think you forgot about me?

I’m not going to answer that question.

Do you want to see me make this quarter disappear? It was a man’s voice.

Daddy?

Watch this, he said. He snapped his fingers and the quarter disappeared. Where do you think the quarter went?

Behind my ear, Ani replied.

Let’s see, he said, reaching behind her ear. He pulled out the shiny quarter and placed it in the middle of her open palm. That’s for you, Penny Bright.

That’s what he called me, Ani thought.

That was the sound of his voice.

Ani glanced at the street sign and noted that she had put ten blocks between herself and her deed. She paused to pull on her coat and button it against the wind. With the back of her hand she wiped cold tears from her face. Then Ani Silver clasped the black book and strode forward with it into the rest of her life.

glossary of foreign terms and phrases

aghchig
— girl

aghchigess
— my girl

ahnbeedahn
— useless, worthless

ahrr
— take

amot kezi
— shame on you

anamot
— shameless

anham eh
— savorless

anoushig
— sweetie

assez bien
— pretty well

badveli
— pastor, minister

banir
— cheese

baron
— mister

bidi mernim
— I’m going to die

bonsoir
— good evening

boum
— party

carte de
sé
jour
— residence permit

chambre de bonne
— maid’s room

char dghah
— bad boy

char shoon
— bad dog

chem keedehr
— I don’t know

chezokh
— neutral, nonpartisan

comment ça va ce matin
— how’s it going this morning?

dahngahlakh
— blockhead

Dashnak
— member of Armenian Revolutionary Federation

devs
— devils, evil spirits

digin
— Mrs.

éblouissant
— dazzling

eshek
— donkey, ass

fromager
— cheese seller

inchbes es?
— how are you?

gamatz, gamatz
— slowly, slowly; little by little

herya
— Jew

hos yegoor
— come here

Hunchak
— member of Hunchakian Revolutionary Party

jagadakir
— destiny

je t’ai demandée une question
— I asked you a question

je suis fou
— I am crazy

je suis au plus profond de l’abîme, et je ne sais plus prier
— I am at the bottom of the pit and I don’t know how to pray anymore

je veux follement te faire l’amour
— I want to make love to you

je vous souhaite bienvenue
— I welcome you

keghetsig
— pretty

khelats
i
— intelligent

khent
— crazy

khadayif
— pastry of shredded wheat, nuts and syrup

kesh chem
— I’m not bad

kezi geh sirem
— I love you

kisher pari
— good night

lahmejun
— meat pizza

lav em
— I am well

madzoon
— yogurt

manti
— small meat dumplings

medz mairig
— Grandma

meghah
— exclamation of surprise

mutilés de guerre
— disabled veterans

odar
— hearth

pakhlava
— pastry of filo, nuts & syrup

pamplemousse
— grapefruit

poghokagan
— Protestant

pomme de terre
— potato

pompier
— firefighter

préfecture
— police headquarters

primeur
— greengrocer

quatre bises
— four kisses

qu’est-ce que tu as dit?
— what did you say?

Ramgavar
— member of Armenian Social Democratic Party

tavloo
— backgammon

toneer
— fireplace

toun inchbes es?
— how are you?

tourshi
— pickles

vardik
— underpants

vhy babum
— alas my father (idiom)

vorik
— bottom, rear end

yalanchi
— stuffed grape leaves

yaprak
— grape leaves

yavrum
— darling, dear

acknowledgments

Thanks to Anne Carey, Dahlia Elsayed, Daniel Goldin, Tanja Graf, Katie Hite, Arsen Kashkashian, Susan Kricorian, and Markar Melkonian for reading early drafts of the manuscript.

For research assistance I would like to thank Peter Bilizekian, Bethel Charkoudian, Ani Garmiryan, Jean-Claude Kébabdjian at the Centre de Recherches sur la Diaspora Arménienne, Lena Takvorian, and especially Markar Melkonian.