A Life Worth Living

191 Pages·2014·0.7 MB·English

by  Baim Pnina

A Life Worth Living
By Pnina Baim

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Copyright © 2013 Pnina Baim
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Dedicated to the land of Israel & all the special people who live there.

When I go up to heaven, if they will ask me why I was not like Abraham, I
will have what to answer them. But when they will ask me why I was not Zushe,
what will I answer them?-Rav Zushe of Annipole
Chapter One

“Hey, Gaby, it’s time to go.” A second later, the voice came again. “You
have to go.”
Gaby nestled closer to Benny, ignoring the insistent voice whispering in her
ear. “Come on, get up. You’re going to be late.”
Gaby reluctantly opened her eyes to see Tovah, cleaned up and ready for
work, dressed in a pink button-down shirt and fitted gray knee-length skirt. She
crouched next to the black leather couch that Gaby was lying on, holding a mug
that smelled strongly of coffee.
“What time is it?”
“It’s after seven.” Tovah took a sip from the mug. “Do you want me to
make you some coffee before you go?”
“No, I have to run. My mom is gonna freak.” Gaby slid off the couch,
careful not to wake Benny, sleeping like the dead, using his arm to block the
morning sunlight dripping through the basement windows. She stood up shakily,
trying to steady her pounding head with her hand. “Did you see my sweatshirt?”
“Um…” They looked around until Tovah spotted the yellow sweatshirt
hanging on a closet doorknob. She grabbed it and held it out to Gaby. “So, you’ll
email me when you get your new number?”
“Yeah, I will.” The girls hugged. “Thanks for the party last night. And for
letting us crash here.”
“No problem. One last bash, right?”
Tovah had moved from Colorado to attend Brooklyn College. The girls had
met at their summer job, a call center for a charity organization that took soul-
crushing to a new level. It wasn’t that Gaby disliked charity per se; she was all
for it when it came to other people. It was just that attempting to call those
endless lists of people – names after more names, who, if they picked up the
phone, nine times out of ten hung up just as quick – was possibly the worst job
in the world.
The one good thing about the low-paying misery was that it brought the two
of them together in solidarity. They became fast friends, hanging out every night
and going from house party to house party thrown by home-alone teenagers
when their parents went upstate for the summer.
Benny was one of the boys in the neighborhood, someone Gaby had seen
around, but she never managed to muster up the courage to approach. For years
now, whenever she went to one of these hang-outs, she would watch him out of
the corner of her eye as he talked up all the cute, skinny girls in their adorable
outfits and joked around with his friends. But one night this summer, completely
out of the blue, Benny walked over to Gaby as she stood idly against a wall,
nursing a beer. He took the bottle right out of her hand, and, after taking a long
gulp, said, “I’m so glad you came tonight.”
Gaby had just smiled instead of saying something witty, because she
couldn’t manage thinking, forget about spouting a quick come-back. This
somehow had the effect of making her seem cool and mysterious. Benny had
stayed by her side the whole night, and pretty much the rest of the summer. It
was hard for her to believe that after all this time, Benny was finally giving her
attention, and although she wouldn’t call him her boyfriend, he was the closest
she’d ever come to having one.
Tovah, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly as obsessed with Benny, and she
didn’t mince words when it came to her dislike of him. She felt that Benny was a
poseur and would never go anywhere in life, but being the loyal friend that she
was, she let them hang out in her studio basement apartment whenever they had
nowhere else to go.
To celebrate Gaby’s last night in the U.S., Tovah decided to throw her a
party, and she did it in style, taking full advantage of the fact of her landlords’
absence. They were hours away, spending the last weekend of the summer in the
mountains, and would never notice her wanton use of their spacious and well-
maintained backyard. She had hung up tiny white lights all over the trees, and
everyone brought either a drink or a dip while Tovah provided the chips.
The party was a blast, with their whole crowd showing up and drinking to
Gaby’s departure. The last guest left just as the black night sky was turning gray,
and, knowing Tovah’s neat-freak tendencies, Gaby had stayed to help clean up
the backyard until not a single stray bottle or the slightest hint of the revelry
remained. Afterward, with just a couple of hours left before her flight, Gaby had
joined Benny, who had crashed on Tovah’s couch.
“No, not our last. I’ll be back,” Gaby promised. She bent down and touched
Benny’s arm. “Hey, I’m going now.”
Benny opened his eyes. “Now?”
“Yeah, I have to go.” Gaby bit her lip, waiting for Benny to make a move,
any move. She was never sure how to act around him, and usually took the more
passive approach to avoid being overly clingy.
“And you have to be out of here in thirty minutes,” Tovah interjected.
“I will be out of here in thirty minutes.” Benny repeated, mocking her.
“Have a good flight, babe. Don’t be a stranger.” Benny flicked Gaby’s pony,
then turned his back to her and closed his eyes.
“That was classy,” Tovah said, leaning against the counter in her tiny
kitchenette, not bothering to whisper anymore.
“Whatever.” Gaby shrugged off Benny’s indifference. It wasn’t like she
could stamp her feet and yell that she was leaving and that he might never see
her again and didn’t he care about her at all? She went to the sink, filled a cup
with tap water and drank it quickly. “I better get out of here. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you! Don’t forget to call me when you can,” Tovah said sadly.
Gaby looked at her mournfully and hugged her again. She cast one last look
at Benny, who was already fast asleep, and left the apartment, closing the door
softly behind her.
Once outside, Gaby pulled her sweatshirt over her ribbed tank top despite
the warmth of the September morning. No need to annoy her mom any more
than necessary.
Tovah lived in the basement of one of these huge houses located in the
wealthier part of the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, forcing Gaby to walk past the
haves with mansion after half-brick, half-stucco mansion, until she crossed over
Ocean Avenue, where the have-nots lived, and buildings, instead of houses,
crowded the streets.
Just past Ocean Avenue was her school, a great big building spanning the
th th
entire block between East 19 and East 18 Streets. A banner, in bright primary
colors, proclaimed that the school served the educational needs of children from
nursery through grade 12. Or so they said. Gaby, for one, did not feel that her
educational needs were served. Sitting through nine daily periods of subjects she
did not choose or understand was not her idea of time well spent. She felt like a
wave goodbye, or perhaps a throw of a brick, might be in order to commemorate
the last time she would pass by the school.
But school hadn’t started yet; nobody would be there to see her final act of
defiance. One more plus about moving to Israel: There would be no need to
kowtow to those dictators anymore.
th
She turned onto East 16 Street, where rows of fully attached houses stood.
Gaby’s mother had moved them into smaller and dingier apartments ever since
the divorce. Here, their final apartment before they caved into the mounting
economic pressure and moved to Israel, was a partitioned unit of what was once
a single-family home. Their apartment was not much bigger than the basement
Tovah lived in. It boasted a steep staircase, tiled in stained linoleum, leading up
to two small bedrooms, a windowless kitchen, and one bathroom-too small to
hold a bathtub-for all three of them to share. A single air conditioner worked
valiantly in an attempt to cool the humid New York air. Gaby slipped off her
flip-flops before entering the apartment as quietly as possible. A floorboard
squeaked, and immediately, her mother called out, “Gaby, is that you?”
Gaby rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Yup, it’s me.” She walked up the stairs
into the narrow kitchen, where her mother had emptied the contents of the
refrigerator and cabinets on the single counter.
“Where were you last night?” Mrs. Kupfer turned, her worn face filled with
a familiar mixture of concern and frustration. She was dressed in an old faded
black nightgown, and the jars and bottles of every shape and size surrounding
her made her look slightly deranged.
“I was at my friend Tovah’s house,” Gaby said, hoping that the simplest
explanation would get her mother off her back.
“You didn’t think to call? I was worried about you.” Her mother reflexively
fixed her scarf tied around her head, and turned back to packing the containers in
plastic bags.
“I’m sure you were.” Of all the nights that Gaby had been out all night, this
was the first time her mother noticed her absence. How convenient of her to
suddenly be concerned for Gaby’s safety just when she needed help packing for
their trip.
Gaby went over to the stove, grabbed the teakettle and began to fill it with
water. She set it back on the stove and lit the stove with a match.
“Yes, I was.” Her mother looked at her. “You went outside wearing pants?”
Gaby looked down at her black jeans. “Why not? I’m not in school
anymore. You should be happy I’m wearing a sweatshirt. It’s really hot outside.
Why don’t I get credit for that?” she asked, her voice steadily rising. “And why
are you wearing a tichel? It’s stupid to cover your hair if you aren’t married. It’s
not like you need to show allegiance to your husband anymore. ”
“I don’t know. Once we are in Israel, I guess.” Mrs. Kupfer closed her eyes
for a minute. “Let’s not fight today, okay? Just one day. Please.”
Her mother, standing in her old nightgown, looked so pitiful that Gaby felt
herself giving in. Gaby blew air forcefully out through her lips. “Fine, I’m not
fighting. Do you need any help?”
“If you finished packing, then you can help me put together some things to
take on the plane. I would hate to see all this food go to waste. But wake up Rafi
first. He needs to get ready.”
Gaby walked the two feet to the bedroom she shared with her brother. In the
dim light coming through the disposable blinds, she saw twelve-year-old Rafi
tangled up in his sheets, one foot hanging off the bed. “Hey, monkey face, wake
up.”
Rafi’s eyes popped open and he jumped out of bed.
Gaby laughed. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Do what?” Rafi asked, grabbing a pair of blue pants and an orange-and-
blue-striped shirt. He rummaged around the floor and found his tzitzis near his
bed.
“Be sleeping so deeply, and then just wake up like that.”
“I’m excited! Aren’t you excited?”
“Super-duper excited. Don’t take too long in the bathroom; I still need to
wash up.” Gaby found a navy blue yarmulke on an empty shelf near his bed and
positioned it on Rafi’s head. He shrugged her off and disappeared into the
bathroom.
Gaby turned the bedroom light on and looked around the mostly bare room.
Her three suitcases were opened next to her bed, and a worn black backpack
leaned against the wall. Stripping off her unused linen, she bundled them up and
shoved them into her suitcase.
There wasn’t much else to take. The little furniture they owned would be
left behind. Her mother didn’t have the money or the desire to ship their old,
dilapidated beds and table to Israel.
She pulled out a pair of gray yoga pants and a short-sleeved red shirt from
her suitcase, locked the door so Rafi couldn’t barge in on her, and quickly
changed, sticking her dirty clothes in a side pocket of the suitcase. When Rafi
knocked on the door, she opened it.
“Finish packing. We’re leaving in forty-five minutes.”
Rafi nodded and began methodically folding his linen, corner to corner, and
then into perfect squares. Gaby watched him for a moment, shaking her head in
amazement, then went into the bathroom to wash up.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she asked her reflection out loud, “Makeup
or no makeup? There might be a cute boy on the flight, ya never know.”
Immediately, she felt guilty. Technically, she was still with Benny, although
who knew the chances that he would actually visit her in Israel as he had
promised?
To atone for her disloyal thought, she aggressively rubbed last night’s
makeup off with a bar of soap, leaving her face shiny and pink. Brushing her
long black hair away from her face, she piled it on top of her head in a loose bun.
She rifled through the medicine cabinet, pulling out the toothpaste, toothbrushes,
and deodorants that were still in there. Checking the shower, she found a half-
used shampoo bottle, soap and a razor. She gathered everything up, and carried
the pile into the kitchen. “Where should I put all this?”
Mrs. Kupfer shrugged. “Wherever it could fit. Bag the bottles first, so they
don’t spill all over the place.”
“I know! I’m not an idiot.” Gaby rolled her eyes at her mother’s back, but
did as she was told. She pulled two shopping bags from under the kitchen sink
and went back to her room. Rafi was sitting on the floor, trying to shove books
into his bulging suitcases.
“You know there’s a weight limit on those, right?”
“I know, but I can’t leave these books behind. I really like them. Can you
take them for me?”
“If I have room. I have to put all this crap in first.”
“Why couldn’t we ship everything to Israel like all the other families did?”
“Um, why do you think? Because we can’t afford it,” Gaby sing-songed the
standard response whenever any of them wanted anything that wasn’t absolutely
necessary.
“If we have no money, how are we gonna buy more furniture in Israel?”
“It’s cheaper to buy new furniture than to ship what we have. Besides, I
think the house in Shiloh comes with some furniture already. We’re lucky they
allowed us to take three suitcases each. Otherwise, we’d only be able to take
two.” The family was making aliyah with the assistance of Nefesh B’Nefesh. As
organization was not Mrs. Kupfer’s strongest skill, the non-profit’s help had
been crucial to the family’s immigration.
Gaby finished distributing the plastic bags of toiletries in her suitcase.
“Okay, I have some space left. You can put a few books in here.”
“Awesome, Gaby! You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Gaby, but she smiled, happy that she could do something
for her brother. She leaned back against the bare bed. “Isn’t it a little sad that all
of our possessions can fit into nine suitcases?”
“I don’t think it’s sad, I think it’s good. It will be so easy to unpack.”
“Will you shut up? You’re so annoyingly optimistic.” Gaby shoved Rafi on
the shoulder and he laughed. “Come join me for breakfast when you’re done.
Our last meal in Brooklyn.”
“Make me coffee,” Rafi called after her. “Don’t let Mommy see.”
“You got it, monkey.”
Mrs. Kupfer was busy in her bedroom when Gaby entered the kitchen. She
made two sweet coffees in Styrofoam cups and stacked two paper plates with
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sitting down at the rickety table, she took a
sip of coffee and closed her eyes. If she tried hard, she could almost feel Benny’s
lips on hers, the feel of kissing the skull tattoo on his chest.
“What are you doing?” Rafi sat down noisily, scraping back his chair and
biting into a sandwich.
“Nothing.” Gaby blushed and took another sip of her coffee to hide her face.
She had been careful never to mention Benny to Rafi. At least one person could
have a good opinion of her. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold or Mommy
comes out.”
A horn beeped and Mrs. Kupfer called out frantically from her room, “The
car service is here! We have to go! Ask the driver for help loading the suitcases.”
“You do it, Rafi,” Gaby begged.
“Sure.” Rafi stood up, taking a big gulp of his coffee and grabbing his
sandwich. He opened the door and clattered down the stairs.
“Gaby, just put everything on the counter into bags. They’ll let us take it on
the plane.” Her mother came out of her bedroom, still buttoning a gray cardigan
over a white shirt.
Gaby glanced at the counter, littered with open spice bottles and half-used
condiments. “I think they have lemon juice in Israel.”
“I know, I know. But we're going to have to buy groceries and lots of other
things once we get to Israel.” Her mother put her hand to her forehead as if just
the thought of shopping was overwhelming to her. “I’m just trying to limit our
expenses as much as possible,” she said feebly.
Of course. Always the money issue. That’s all that ever mattered to her
mother. Gaby slowly got up and began to shove the contents into bags, not
bothering to make sure they were packed properly. Rafi reappeared with the car
service driver, an older Russian man. Rafi, the driver, and Mrs. Kupfer dragged
the suitcases down the stairs, leaving Gaby alone. She took one last look at the