A low distant thunder pulled me from sleep a few nights later. Rain clouds concealed the moon so our room was unusually dark. I was disoriented as I lay quietly blinking at the wall. I heard a soft sigh and rolled over to glance at Esther. She was lying on her back with her arm thrown over her eyes, her chest rising and falling with even breaths. But her lips were slowly moving. Bemused, I leaned closer, trying to figure out what she was whispering. More often than not, her words were a jumble of nonsense, but tonight she kept repeating a name . . . Aaron. I frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She gave a small laugh, said Aaron’s name again, mumbled, “We’ll see tomorrow,” and rolled over, her back to me.
I lay back against my pillow, watching rain-drenched shadows ripple across the ceiling. The only Aaron I knew was the boy who went around town delivering groceries in his rickety wooden cart. His cap always lay askew on his head and to me he was gangly and awkward. I never so much as glanced at him. His fair hair curled delicately against his freckled face. His soft blue eyes were almost a dull gray in color. Because of his slight frame, he was always breathless and sweaty while pushing his cart. I wondered why Esther was dreaming about him, of all people. Then I remembered how Esther had smiled to herself and smoothed her long skirt and dark hair when my mother had asked her to search him out in town to place an order earlier that day.
Does she like him? I thought incredulously. They were both eighteen, but he seemed much younger. Jacob sometimes mentioned that it was a shame Aaron didn’t attend the yeshiva (the religious school for boys), because he was a smart boy. But he was apprenticed to Mr. Abrams, the town grocer. Did that mean he would make a good living for himself? Would Mama and Papa think him a suitable match for Esther? Excited thoughts kept me from falling back to sleep and I giggled into my pillow.
The notion stuck in my mind for the remainder of the week. I attempted to mention him casually to Esther when we ran errands together or hung the laundry out to dry or washed the twins in the barrel that served as our tub.
“Did you know that Mr. Abrams is selling more cabbage this year than last? That’s what Mama said. It must have been a good season, and Mama’s happy because she can make cabbage stew more often. In fact, I think I saw cabbage heads on Aaron’s cart the other day.”
I’d watch her face for the slightest change. Esther’s face was smooth as silk, and her mouth could display the simplest message with a twist or a frown. Now, she smiled and gazed down at her feet, and I thought, Aha! It’s true! She does like him!
I was proud of myself for making this discovery, but like any pesky, younger sister, I kept mentioning him until one day she turned on me.
“Will you please stop making fun of Aaron? He’s very sweet!” She said with a flash of anger, a blush coloring her cheeks. I stared at her, realizing that I had, in fact, been poking fun at him. I’d laughed at how he constantly had to push his sleeves up to his elbows because his arms were so slim, and how he was always blowing his hair out of his eyes. “I know you may not think so,” Esther continued, “but Aaron is kind and thoughtful. He’s always giving me little presents, like an extra vegetable from his cart or even, the other day, a flower.” Then, stopping herself from revealing more, she said, “Now, don’t go telling Mama. And quit staring at me like that, Sarah. Come on. We’re going to be late.”
* * *
Presents! Well, it was easy to see why Aaron was so taken with my sister. Wherever we went, whispers followed Esther. In town, she was known as the “shayna maidela,” the “pretty girl.” From the time she was an infant, her raven hair and striking porcelain complexion drew attention. I had heard stories of how strangers had stopped my mother on the street to peer into Esther’s baby buggy. “Such a beautiful child!” They had exclaimed. “Look at those eyes! And skin like a doll’s . . . flawless!” Later, as Esther grew into a toddler and skipped alongside my mother, passersby would stare after her, mesmerized. When she looked up, her eyes were pools of black, so dark the pupils were lost. Long lashes brushed her cheeks. Her lips were rosebud red and pouted naturally. “Have you ever seen such beauty?” They exclaimed. “Like an angel.”
My mother always scowled at them and spat three times into her hand, “pu, pu, pu,” or muttered “keynahora” after such comments. They were meant as compliments, but my mother believed they brought the evil eye upon Esther. I knew my mother was superstitious. Every day she performed small rituals and strange routines that were supposed to protect us. She took particular care with Esther. She had tied red ribbons to Esther’s baby carriage to ward off evil, and later tied red ribbons to the ends of Esther’s braids.
Recently, I had begun to notice how the town boys stared after her as we walked home from school, or even changed direction to follow close behind us. Her changing body was hard to hide, despite the long skirts and shawls she wore. I no longer teased Esther or chattered idly on our walks, but instead watched every move she made, finding the way her hips swayed intriguing, and the way her hair fell straight down her back beneath her scarf enviable. I wanted her dark hair, hair so dark it was almost black. My hair was lighter, like my mother’s had been, but unlike my mother’s, it still had too much red in it. I hated my red hair and freckles, especially when the boys poked fun at me. My mother often told me that it would grow into the rich auburn hers had been before she cut it off, but I didn’t believe her.
I was used to being Esther’s shadow, used to receiving everyone’s polite, remembered nods after they addressed her. Lovely was often the way she was described. And myself? Playful, willful, precocious, pretty for a young girl. Young girl! I would fume when I heard this. I was thirteen, after all!
I quietly observed the exchanges that became more and more frequent between Esther and Aaron. I noticed how Esther began watching for him in town, stopping on the street corners that were his known route, or asking after his whereabouts from Mr. Abrams. More often than not, when they saw each other, my presence was quickly forgotten.
“I wish I could go to the university in Krakow or Warsaw.” Aaron told her one time while they huddled in a narrow alley behind the town’s water tower. I sat on the street corner, drawing random patterns in the dirt with a stick and listening to their every word, though I feigned indifference. “I want to see more of Poland and Europe, maybe even America. But my mother and father won’t hear of it. They think I shouldn’t risk a future as a grocer for something unknown. Mr. Abrams is nice and all, but I feel restless delivering onions and turnips all day.”
“Why, Aaron?” Esther asked softly. “You’ll make a good living when you take over for Mr. Abrams. It’s an honor he picked you. You’ll be able to support a family. I’ve heard my mother say you’ll make a fine match for someone. Isn’t that the most important thing? ”
I glanced up at them. Esther’s face was flushed bright red as she stared down at her shuffling feet.
“Important for us, you mean?” Aaron whispered.
Esther’s face blazed even brighter. She lowered her head and whispered, “You shouldn’t say such things. It’s not right.”
“What’s not right?” Aaron asked. “To speak about our feelings?”
Esther put her hand to her mouth now and quietly muttered, “pu, pu, pu,” in perfect imitation of our mother. Aaron reached out and grabbed her hands in his own, and in a voice I strained to hear, whispered, “Let me say a prayer for us, Esther. God will surely grant our union if and when the time comes.”
Something in Aaron’s tone stirred me even as I sat on the edge of the dirt road pretending not to hear. The moment seemed suspended, frozen, as though something important were going to happen any minute, but then Aaron stuck out his lower lip and blew the hair from his face, and the magic of the moment was broken. He seemed to notice me for the first time.
“Ah, Sarah, let me give you something.” And he pulled from his basket a ripe apple. I eagerly took the apple, looking at Esther. She seemed embarrassed as she smoothed her skirt with her hands, but she smiled and nodded.
“Thank you, Aaron.” I said. My approval of him increased in that moment, until he said, “A red apple, just like your hair.”
I frowned and took a large bite, chewing loudly, irritably. But he didn’t notice. He had turned back to Esther, and was handing her an apple as well. “And red, like your lips,” he said to her. Esther took the apple and placed it in her basket. She looked away shyly and said, “Come on, Sarah. It’s time to go home.”
As we walked back to our house, I kept glancing behind at Aaron, who stood by his cart watching after us. “Not a word of this to Mama and Papa, Sarah, understand?” Esther whispered, looking at me out of the corner of her eyes. “Do you promise?”
I nodded.
“Yes, Esther,” I said. “I promise.”