Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [114]
Her hopes were soon dashed. The instant she opened his door she saw the effects of a miserly widower. Everything was wrong, indifferent, untidy, dirty. The kitchen in back of the shop was derelict, with squeaky, broken chairs and a table covered in peeling, greasy oilcloth. Pots and pans were caked in grime and the few unmatched dishes were chipped and worn.
Upstairs, in the living quarters, bedspreads, pillows, and towels were grungy and scraggly, and the mattress stained and lumpy. The windows were covered with torn shades and curtainless. Paint could scarcely be seen through layers of dust and dirt. Damp, musty odors permeated it all.
A major overhaul was called for. Linens, featherbeds, dishes, and the like were generally items that a wife brought into the marriage as part of her dowry. But Hannah had no dowry.
She’d make a thorough list, she thought, and put the place into sparkling shape. She’d set up a kosher kitchen with milk and meat flatware and dishes. This was her own first home and no amount of work would be too hard.
Despite her initial disappointment, Hannah did not despair. Work was no stranger to her. And look at the brighter side. This had a lot more promise than a tenement on the Lower East Side.
She had been clever also in making friends with the boys, Saul and Lazar. Anytime they came to Baltimore, there was a kitchen full of cookies. She’d get them to pitch in, getting the house in order. It would make them feel important. She’d bake for them and give the spoons and the pot to lick for rewards, and she’d get their wardrobes into spotless condition.
All of the housekeeping could wait for a few days. For now, there was the reality of the honeymoon night. Nothing had ever been mentioned about sex during their courtship. Foregone conclusions regarding the woman’s role and duty had been part of her upbringing. Hannah did have the terrible legacy of her mother’s tragedy and the fears that went along with sex. Crazy, but Sonia’s marriage held out some hope. Although Jake was a sorry excuse for a husband, they did enjoy their sex together. Sonia had told her that many times.
Since Moses had the experience of a previous wife, they didn’t have to be like a pair of frightened puppies, poking around clumsily at each other. She felt Moses would handle the delicate moments of the situation. If this were true, they could establish a pattern of tenderness, maybe even happiness. There was no putting it off now. The time had come and the mystery would soon be over.
As Hannah awaited him, the dinginess of the lantern-lit room overcame her. She ducked down deeper beneath the covers and soon was swept by sheer terror. The walls closed in on her, and when she heard the back stairs creaking out his arrival, she desperately wanted to run and hide.
“Lord, Hannah,” she moaned, “don’t make a fool of yourself,” and overcame an impulse to cringe in the closet.
The door opened.
Moses returned from the outhouse, wearing an ankle-length nightshirt. He spoke nary a word, took off his yarmulke, turned down the lantern, invoking darkness, shuffled across the room, groaned down on the woebegone mattress, and fished around for her.
It was painful, thoughtless, bloody, and mercifully quick. He was soon asleep with his back to her, snoring, so he did not hear her stifled sobs. Hannah’s fear had come home to roost, like a dire prophecy.
Hannah moved around in a daze for several days, shocked by the nightly onslaughts. There was no place for her to seek comfort or respite. There was no one to confide in. She called on her spunkiness to stave off a depression and told herself there were other things in life.
She could make a decent home. She would come to love Saul and Lazar. Perhaps she could have her own children. But, to look into the future coldly, there would be years of his sordid behavior to endure, perhaps the rest of her life.
“I’ve made a list of things we need,” Hannah told him at the end of the first bitter fortnight. “If I make a trip to Baltimore to do the shopping, we can