Too Many Men (41 page)

There was a balance and harmony in the cemetery that was palpable. As though its inhabitants were as cohesive in their death as they were in their lives. As though the community of scholars and teachers and lawyers and workers and watchmakers and artisans and industrialists and rabbis and doctors were still alive. Although they had shifted into another dimension, unchanged. Ruth could feel the symmetry, the unity. She could feel the love in the community, the husbands and wives, the families.

“Where were you?” Edek said, in a loud voice. Ruth got a fright. She jumped.

“Marek and I was looking for you everywhere,” Edek said.

“You gave me an awful fright,” Ruth said.

“We was worried about you,” Edek said.

“I’ve looked for you a couple of times,” she said.

“Well, we are together, now,” Marek said.

“Okay, forget about it,” Edek said to Ruth. “I did find you.”

Marek put down his yellow shopping bag.

“This cemetery has been designated a national monument of the example of nineteenth-century architectural thoughts,” he said.

Edek groaned. Ruth hoped that Marek hadn’t heard the groan.

“The architectural thought that is being recognized is the turning of existing fields and small farms close to the town into a place for the burial of the dead,” Marek said. Edek kicked at some dirt with his foot.

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“Okay,” Edek said, briskly.

“One of the architects who drew up the plans was Adolf Zeligson, who also designed the preburial hall,” Marek said.

“Thank you very much,” Edek said. He went to move on.

“I have not finished yet,” said Marek. He looked hurt.

“Forgive my father,” Ruth said.

“Why should he forgive me?” Edek said. “I did not do anything wrong.

How did I know that he was not finished?” Edek looked wounded, now.

“I didn’t say you did anything terrible,” Ruth said to her father.

“Are you ashamed of your father?” Edek said.

“No, of course I’m not,” she said.

“Maybe I was right. Maybe I should have stayed in Melbourne,” Edek said.

“Let us look at the mausoleum of Poznanski,” Marek said.

“Oh, Poznanski,” Edek said. “He was very rich.”

“Very, very rich,” Ruth said.

“Where is Poznanski’s grave?” said Edek.

“Not far,” said Marek. “Follow me.” Ruth and Edek followed Marek.

Ruth felt sorry for her father. She shouldn’t have apologized for him.

She should have been more sensitive. He was eighty-one and she had dragged him into a cemetery. A cemetery saturated with dead Jews. Edek probably had relatives who were buried here. The names on the graves were probably reviving many memories for him. Difficult memories. She should be taking more care of her father, she decided.

“Wow,” said Ruth, when she saw the mausoleum that housed Israel Poznanski and his wife. It was enormous and imposing. It stood above and towered over everything else in the cemetery. Ruth had never seen a mausoleum of this size built for a Jew. Four columns supported a large dome.

Arched windows were built into the dome. Ruth walked up the steps of the monument. A locked wrought-iron gate prevented her from going inside.

She peered inside. She could just make out the intricate work of the mosaic tiles that lined the interior of the dome. The monument Poznanski had built for himself. It was quite beautiful, Ruth thought.

“It is very big,” Edek said.

“It sure is,” said Ruth.

“I think it is too big,” Edek said.

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L I L Y B R E T T

“A lot of people might agree with you,” she said. “But I think it is beautiful.”

“You always must like what normal people do not like,” Edek said. He turned to Marek. “That is my daughter. If ten people does like something, my daughter for sure will not like it,” he said. Marek looked nervous. He clearly didn’t want to get involved in any domestic disputes.

“Israel Poznanski and his wife, Eleonora Poznanski, are buried here,”

Marek said. “Inside is a mosaic which is comprised of approximately two million pieces of glass.”

“Two million, oh, brother,” Edek whispered.

“This is possibly the only Jewish tomb in the world decorated with mosaics,” Marek said.

“I did never see something like this, on a grave,” Edek said.

“You haven’t seen many cemeteries,” Ruth said.

“I seen enough,” said Edek. He looked annoyed with Ruth. “I was trying to be nice to him,” Edek whispered to her.

“He can hear us, Dad,” she said.

“He cannot hear me,” Edek said. “He is an old man.”

“Can I take a photograph of you in front of Poznanski’s tomb?” she said to Edek.

“What for?” he said. “A photograph in a cemetery? I will be in a cemetery myself soon enough. I don’t need a photograph in a cemetery.”

“Okay, okay,” she said.

“Here are also other monuments for the families of the wealthy Jews,”

Marek said, pointing to nearby sites. “There are the tombs of the family of Marcus Silberstein, the Prussaks, the Jarocinskis, the Rapaports, and some other important Jewish families,” he said.

“The Rapaports,” Ruth said. “They must be the Rapaports whose palace your father bought.”

“I suppose so,” said Edek. He paused for a moment. “We was not rich like these rich Jews from Lódz” he said.

“They were mega rich, I think,” Ruth said.

“We was normal rich,” Edek said.

“These mausoleums, sarcophaguses, and tombstones are made in a variety of materials,” Marek said. “Black granite, white marble, sandstone, T O O M A N Y M E N

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wrought iron. They are built in many styles. Neoclassicism, Historical, Art Nouveau, Modernism.”

“He talks too much,” Edek said to Ruth.

“He can hear you,” Ruth said.

“I am telling the truth,” Edek said.

“Dad,” she said, in a stern tone, but Edek had already rushed off.

“I love this cemetery very much,” Marek said to Ruth. “My mother is buried here,” Marek said. Ruth looked at Marek. He had tears in his eyes.

“It is a very beautiful cemetery,” she said. She walked on, ahead of Marek.

The beauty of the cemetery was amplified, Ruth thought, by the contrast with the squalor and decay of what remained of the formerly Jewish homes in Lódz. And the bigotry and ignorance and indifference of the Poles. The only passion Ruth had seen among the Polish, she thought, was a passion for hatred and a passion for alcohol. She didn’t want to leave the cemetery. She wanted to stay. To sit here, with these people. To keep them company. To show them they were not forgotten.

The monument to the Jews who died in the Lódz ghetto was near the façade of the old mortuary. Approximately fifty thousand Jews who died in the Lódz ghetto were buried in this cemetery, in a section called the Ghetto Fields. Dozens of visitors had left
yahrzeit
candles, memorial candles for the dead, in the Ghetto Fields. Ruth had been reassured by the presence of other people’s prayers and respects.

Ruth stood in front of three identically shaped tombstones. Each tombstone had a butterfly carved across the top. She started tidying the area around the tombstones. She picked up several stones, and an old bottle.

She removed some paper and several branches. She stepped back. The tombstones looked better already. Ruth put down her bag and rolled up the sleeves of her coat. She moved some old newspapers.

She looked up and saw her father. Edek was staring at her. He looked miserable.

“You can give them money if you want to do something,” he said to Ruth. “If they have the money, they will clean up the graves.” Ruth straightened up. She suddenly felt overwhelmed. And tearful.

“You’re right, Dad,” she said. She turned away so that he wouldn’t see her tears.

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L I L Y B R E T T

“Come on,” Edek said to her. “It is enough for today.”

“I’m coming,” she said.

“I did tell Marek to ring a taxi,” he said. “Marek did say there was a telephone somewhere. The taxi should be here.”

Marek and the taxi were waiting by the front gate.

“Thank you so much,” Ruth said to Marek.

“Thank you, it was very interesting,” Edek added. Ruth gave Marek some money. He refused to take it. “Please take it,” Ruth said. Marek shook his head.

“My daughter already feels bad. If you do not accept her gift she will feel worse,” Edek said. He took the money and pressed it into Marek’s hand.

“Thank you,” Marek said.

“Can we give you a lift?” Ruth said.

“I live not far from here,” Marek said. “I want to walk.” They all shook hands.

In the taxi, on the way home, they passed a large billboard advertising a brand of footwear. Across the middle of the billboard someone had written
Juden Raus
and, for those non-German speakers, the author had added

“Jews Out.” Ruth was shocked. She pointed it out to Edek. The taxi driver looked at what Ruth was pointing out. He said something to Edek. “I know what he’s saying,” Ruth said to her father. “He doesn’t have to tell me. He’s saying it’s only children.” She sat back in her seat. She couldn’t stop shivering.

Twenty minutes later they were back at the hotel. Edek looked at Ruth.

“You should have a rest,” he said.

“I think I’ll have a hot bath,” she said.

“Are we going to have a dinner today?” Edek said.

“Of course we’ll eat dinner,” Ruth said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven o’clock.”

“Where will we eat?” Edek said.

“I thought we could try the Chinese restaurant we walked past yesterday,” Ruth said.

“Chinee?” Edek said. For years Ruth had reminded Edek to add the “s”

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to the end of “Chinese.” But he just couldn’t remember. “Chinee, in Lódz?”

Edek said.

“I thought it would be interesting to see what they served,” Ruth said.

“I am not having any of those worms,” Edek said.

“They’re not worms,” Ruth said. “They’re prawns. In America they’re called shrimp.”

“To me they are worms,” he said.

“You don’t have to eat worms,” Ruth said, with more irritation than she had intended. “You can have chicken.”

“Okay, okay,” Edek said. “For me it is not so important what I eat. I can eat anything.”

“Except worms,” Ruth said.

“That is right,” Edek said. “I do not like worms.” He paused. “You are sure you want to eat Chinee in Poland?” he said.

“I just want to see what it’s like,” Ruth said. “You can have some chicken soup. You love Chinese chicken soup.”

“Chinee chicken soup is very good,” Edek said.

“And so is Polish chicken soup,” said Ruth. “So the combination should be wonderful.”

Edek looked more cheerful. “I think I will stay downstairs, here in the lobby, for a few minutes,” he said.

“Good idea, Dad,” she said. “See you later.”

She was just about to walk off when Edek grabbed her arm.

“What is our agenda for tomorrow?” he said.

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘agenda,’ ” Ruth said.

“Of course I know this word,” Edek said. “I been using it for a long time. You are not the only one in the family what knows plenty of words.”

“Sorry,” Ruth said. “Tomorrow we’re going to the Lódz ghetto, and then we leave for Kraków.”

“Is it necessary for you to go to the ghetto?” Edek said.

“I’d like to,” she said.

“There is nothing there,” Edek said.

“I know,” she said.

“We are visiting one nothing after the other,” Edek said.

“I guess that’s true, Dad,” Ruth said. “You could stay at the hotel.”

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“No,” Edek said. “I am going where you are going.”

“You’ve just reminded me,” Ruth said, “that I won’t be here for breakfast tomorrow.”

Edek looked startled and wounded. “I’m just going for a run, Dad,” she said. “I really feel the need to run.”

“I will wait for you and we will have breakfast together,” Edek said.

“I want to have a long run,” Ruth said. “I probably won’t be back before ten o’clock. That’s too long for you to wait for breakfast.”

“I can wait,” Edek said.

“Dad, just have the buffet breakfast we have every morning,” she said.

“You love it.”

Edek looked morose. “If you are not going to the buffet I won’t go, too.”

“Okay,” she said. “You can have breakfast in your room.”

“I do not need a breakfast every day,” Edek said.

Ruth had had enough. She wanted to go up to her room and read. “See you later, Dad,” she said. She didn’t like lying to him. But she was really not up to a conversation about why she wanted to go to Kamedulska Street and buy the china.

There were no other customers in the Chinese restaurant on Al.

Kosciuszki. There was nobody Chinese, either. The lack of anyone Chinese bothered Ruth. The waiters were Polish. The chef was probably Polish, too, she thought. A large buffet of prepared hot dishes ran down the center of the restaurant. This was a bad sign. Chinese food was meant to be cooked and served immediately.

“Do you have à la carte?” Ruth asked a waiter.

“What?” the waiter said.

“Do you have a menu, or is the buffet the only choice?” Ruth said.

“All of our customers are very happy with this buffet,” the waiter said.

“You can eat as much as you wish for the same price.”

“So this is all that you serve?” Ruth said.

“It is plenty, madam,” the waiter said. Ruth looked at the buffet. The food had probably been sitting in its heated bains-marie for a long time.

“I do like a buffet very much,” Edek said. “What is wrong with a buffet?”

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“It’s probably okay,” she said.

“You was the one who did want Chinee,” said Edek.

Ruth chose a table. Edek was already at the buffet. The decor was Chinese. Well, Chinese-ish. Chinese paper lantern and scrolls with Chinese cal-ligraphy, mingled with floral Polish curtains and floral Polish carpeting.