“Let me go,” she says.
She is surprised by the coldness in her voice. In the woman’s face, a curtain yanks shut. She releases Varya and steps aside.
• • •
Varya clangs down the stairs of the fire escape in her saddle shoes. A breeze strokes her arms and ruffles the downy, light brown hair that has begun to appear on her legs. When she reaches the alley, she sees that Klara’s cheeks are streaked with salt water, her nose bright pink.
“What’s wrong?”
Klara whirls. “What do you think?”
“Oh, but you can’t actually believe . . .” Varya looks to Daniel for help, but he is stony. “Whatever she said to you—it doesn’t mean anything. She made it up. Right, Daniel?”
“Right.” Daniel turns and begins to walk toward the street. “Let’s go.”
Klara pulls Simon up by one arm. He still holds the drawstring bag, which is as full as it was when they came.
“You were supposed to pay her,” Varya says.
“I forgot,” says Simon.
“She doesn’t deserve our money.” Daniel stands on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips. “Come on!”
They are quiet on the walk home. Varya has never felt further from the others. At dinner, she picks at her brisket, but Simon doesn’t eat at all.
“What is it, my sweet?” asks Gertie.
“Not hungry.”
“Why not?”
Simon shrugs. His blond curls are white beneath the overhead light.
“Eat the food your mother has prepared,” says Saul.
But Simon refuses. He sits on his hands.
“What is it, hm?” clucks Gertie, one eyebrow raised. “Not good enough for you?”
“Leave him alone.” Klara reaches over to ruffle Simon’s hair, but he jerks away and pushes his chair back with a screech.
“I hate you!” he cries, standing. “I! Hate! All of you!”
“Simon,” says Saul, standing, too. He still wears the suit he wore to work. His hair is thinning and lighter than Gertie’s, an unusual coppery blond. “You do not speak to your family that way.”
He is wooden in this role. Gertie has always been the disciplinarian. Now, she only gapes.
“But I do,” says Simon. There is wonder in his face.
PART ONE
You’d Dance, Kid
1978–1982
Simon
1.