Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 6 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
A sign hung on the door of the hut. It read:
Clinic
Please do not disturb the patients.
Do not enter without permission.
Do not enter in groups, only one person at a time.
=========================
Behind the door of the clinic stood Bilhah’s four married children, conversing quietly. Naomi walked ahead, feeling awkward as she passed them. Bilhah’s three daughters nodded at her in greeting; she nodded back and then walked inside, cringing at the oily yellowish-white walls. The large room in the clinic contained eight metal beds, only one of which was occupied.
“Come, Naomi,” her grandmother said as she emerged from behind a curtain with a tray in her hand. “Don’t be afraid.”
Bilhah, the preschool teacher, was lying there, covered in a blanket. Her eyes were half open, half closed, but Naomi could see the pupils looking toward her. “H-hello…” she said timorously.
Bilhah moved her hand slightly, and a distorted smile crossed her lips. “Good to see you, Naomi.” Her voice actually sounded like her own, just very hoarse. “How was it today at the preschool?”
“Fine, baruch Hashem. The children are worried about you.”
Bilhah’s smile tightened and then disappeared. “Yes…” she murmured. “Yes.”
“And your children are also very worried about you,” Naomi added, not quite sure why. “I saw them outside just now.”
“I know. They are good children, baruch Hashem,” Bilhah whispered. “Is Dr. Katzburg here?”
Naomi looked around. “No.”
“And your grandmother?”
From the other end of the room, Babbe smiled at her, as she put the bottles of medicine from the tray back into the cabinet.
“Yes,” Naomi replied.
Bilhah nodded and lapsed into silence.
Naomi searched for a place to focus her gaze, but couldn’t find one. Babbe had told her that Bilhah had asked for her to come because she wanted to talk to her, but now, the teacher was silent.
“How do you feel?” Naomi asked, after a moment.
“Baruch Hashem, although rather weak… They don’t have machines here with which to properly examine me, but your grandmother’s assumptions are usually correct.” She stopped talking and took a deep breath. “And if she says it was a heart attack, I’m assuming she’s right. She saved me…” Bilhah’s eyes radiated warmth now.
“But now,” she continued, “they have no way to help me. If it’s true that some of the pipes in my heart don’t work like they should anymore, then my heart cannot function very well. I’ll have to rest for most of the day from now on, and just daven for a good life this way…”
“Wow.” Naomi could hardly speak.
“You’re going to be the new permanent teacher,” Bilhah whispered, “even before you turn sixteen. That means you probably won’t get a salary at the beginning, but it doesn’t matter. The future of the generation is all in your hands, Naomi.”
“Wow,” Naomi repeated with effort.
“And be careful with Mila, or whoever else the frei people will send from the main office. They won’t want to give you too much control of the class; they’re afraid of the influence on their children. But try to do what you can anyway. You know what I mean…”
This time, Naomi couldn’t say a thing. She just nodded wordlessly.
***
“It’s all well and good to talk.” Rechel temporarily ignored the natural respect that is usually given to the words spoken by someone who is seriously ill. She looked at her daughter Naomi, sitting next to the laundry basin and scrubbing the clothes that were soaking in the water. “After the massive encouragement that she got from Babbe at the beginning, which gave her the strength to survive in this job, she’s trying to do the same thing to you. That’s very nice of her, but I won’t allow it to happen, Naomi. I will speak to Katarina. They’ll find a different preschool teacher. Between you and me, can’t the twelve-year-old girls watch the kids there? Or the older women? I’ll tell Katarina that it’s a waste of productive manpower. You embroider nicely; why shouldn’t you transfer to the sewing workshop? Every hour of work there is worth three times as much as in the preschool!”
Naomi immersed her white Shabbos blouse in the water, and dreamily stared at the bubbles that it generated. “Of course I like to embroider,” she said.
Just then the front door opened, and Binyamin walked in.
“Hi.” Binyamin sat down and eased out of his shoes. “How’s Bilhah?” he asked right away. “We were davening for her. Tzvi, her son, left work a few times, but we weren’t able to hear what’s going on.”
“Baruch Hashem, she seems to be out of danger now,” Rechel said. “But she’s very, very weak. Hashem will help…He always does. Come and eat, Binyamin, before lights-out. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was busy here with something important with Naomi, I would be nervous because of how late it is.”
“Right…” he said distractedly.
Rechel looked at the sky outside. “You came at the last minute again,” she said. “It’s better than coming after the last minute, but it’s still late, and after lights-out, it gets complicated to eat. Naomi, are you finishing with the laundry? Soon you won’t be able to hang anything!”
“Thanks, Mamme,” Binyamin said. “I’ll wash right now.”
Naomi stood up from the basin and blocked the way to the sink. “Why have you been coming late so often? Do you enjoy making me and Mamme nervous? Do you think she lacks for things to worry about?”
“Chalilah!” he said, and looked at his mother. “I…there’s a problem.”
“First wash your hands,” Rechel said. “We’ll talk afterward.”
“And we are going to want detailed explanations,” Naomi declared.
Binyamin chuckled, but when he looked at his mother, he saw that she was nodding. “No secrets, Binyamin, really. I have no energy for secrets.”
“So,” he began slowly, after he swallowed his first bite. “The problem is that one of the veteran workers has had a few mishaps lately. He claims that he was dizzy, or that his hands were trembling, or I don’t know what. He was really miserable, whatever the case. The problem is that I’m the one after him on the production line, and I didn’t get the furs that I was supposed to be finishing, in time. So Menachem and I are trying to help him a bit during our free hours.”
“So that’s what Katarina was talking about,” his mother said understandingly. “Has this been going on for a long time? The last time you were late was also about this?”
“No, the last time was because I was learning with Menachem. This story with the older man is about two weeks old.”
“What should I tell you, Binyamin,” she said, her voice a blend of anxiety and nachas. “Maybe try to persuade Pin…that man to report the issue to the supervisors.”
“He won’t dare, Mamme.”
“I think it’s exaggerated,” Rechel said. “Babbe was also afraid when they moved her to different quarters, and it turned out to be no big deal. They really don’t do anything to the people here; those days are behind us, baruch Hashem.”
“You can never know,” Binyamin said. “I don’t trust them, Mamme.”
“Neither do I. But over the years, we’ve had stories of production flaws before. What do you think? You are young, Binyamin. The directors of this camp risk their lives for us, and have been doing so for years, but there is a mutual relationship here. They need us the same way we need them. They want to preserve our loyalty and productivity, not the other way around. Only if—” She fell silent for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, but then turned her back on both of her children.
Binyamin toyed with the vegetables on his plate. “So what will be with the preschool, now that the teacher is out of commission?” he asked, after a few quiet minutes.
“For now, I’m there in her place,” Naomi said lightly. “Mamme, what do you think about me taking the children on an outing tomorrow? We’ll go until the trees on the edge of the camp, and we’ll look for blueberries for our lamb roast!”
“You need permission from Katarina for that.”
“Fine.” Naomi shrugged. “You think she’ll make problems for me?”
“Depends on her mood. Speak nicely and respectfully—that’s all I can say.”
***
“This is what you bought me in Vienna?” Katarina Wangel hurled her military-style shoes to the other end of the room and put on the Teva Na’ot that she pulled out of the box, directly imported from Israel. She paced up and down the small hallway, and declared, “They really are excellent slippers. Those Israelis know how to do good work, but some of their products can be dreadfully expensive. Where are you, Theresa? Take this box to the garbage storage house, before Ilonka comes here to clean. You didn’t buy anything else that needs to be hidden, right? No Hebrew letters, not—”
“Nothing.” Her daughter yawned. “What did Shvirtz’s daughter want from you when you went out this morning?”
“Permission to take the preschool on an outing.”
“And you agreed?”
“Yes.”
“So she’s taking over for Bilhah?”
“That’s right. Someone has to do the job.”
“What about Bilhah herself?”
“You don’t expect me to send her to the cardiology unit at Vienna General Hospital, do you?” Katarina chuckled. “She survived; that should be enough for them.”
“Maybe we’re letting them live too comfortably,” Theresa said as she switched on the stereo. Her mother looked at her disapprovingly. “You young people are so funny. You do a wonderful job enjoying the life of comfort that Grandfather Klaus and Grandfather Ludwig organized for us fifty years ago, but you also allow yourselves to express an opinion. If you young ones would have been those to establish this place, based on the way your minds work, no one would be here, not a living soul. No factory, no furs, nothing.”
thenextpage-israelbookshop.com 