each of us. My poor mama. She does not exactly look like a young bride. Her face has grown more lines—more come each day—and her hair is turning white.
I am too young to have a white-haired mama. I am too young to have a dead father. Mama and Reyna go out to the kitchen to help the maid, Annuncia, with the rest of the preparations for dinner. Mama gives me some small task to keep me away, but I can hear them talking in whispery voices. I am not supposed to hear. But I know what they are talking about—the friar Martinez. They say he is getting worse. I don’t know. I just know that I do not like to think about it. I especially do not like to think about my friend Ruta. She converted. They took her to a church. They sprinkled water on her head, and I think it only gave her a big head. Yes, that is what I think. She is so stuck-up now. Always showing off how she’s learned some things she calls the Credo and the Ave . She said that when Friar Martinez rushed into the synagogue in Córdoba, where her aunt lives, crosses appeared in the air. They hung there for just a minute in the sunlight coming through the windows.
Her name is no longer Ruta. It is Immaculata.When she was baptized, they gave her a Christian name. Imagine me calling her that! Such a long silly name after being called Ruta. I forget all the time and she gets very snippy about it. So I call her nothing most of the time. If I see her in the alley and maybe want to play sticks and pebbles, I just say, “ Oiga! ” “Hey, hey you.” I know it’s rude. I don’t care.
Anyway, I am not thinking of any of this, for tonight Solomon Ben Asher comes to our house for dinner. When Don Solomon comes, it makes the Sabbath even more special. He always has sweets and ribbons in his pockets. Sweets for me and ribbons for Reyna, who now that she is fourteen wears her hair up. Don Solomon is a physician and an astronomer to the court of King Enrique and Queen Catarina. Don Solomon was here when Papa’s heart stopped after the riots in March, when the mobs stormed into the Jewish Quarter. They did not come up our street, but they got to Papa’s warehouse on the Street of the Grapes. They broke all the casks and the sherry flowed across the cobblestones and filled the gutters. Mama says it was a blessing that it was simply his heart that stopped, not like Señor Perera. Something terrible happened to him. I haveheard whispers. But what is so simple about a heart stopping to beat? Now Papa is dead.
I hear a rap at the door. It must be Don Solomon. Annuncia goes to answer it. “Ah, Doña Grazia,” he greets Mama. He is dressed in his court clothes, a sayo , a kind of sleeveless jerkin made of brocaded cloth that is belted at the waist. Underneath he wears a silk shirt with billowing sleeves. On his head there is a tall scarlet hat, which signifies that he is a Jewish physician. He looks very handsome and very dignified, I think. But best of all his hat has gold braid, which means he serves in the court of the king and queen.
It is my job to take Don Solomon’s hat when he arrives. So I always try to stand as tall as I can, even though I am short for my ten years. After he has bowed to my mother and my sister, he turns to me. “Señorita Miriam,” and with a flourish he takes off his hat and gives it to me. This is the best thing about his hat: It smells like limes. Reyna says it is an oil that he uses on his hair. And even though Don Solomon is slightly roly-poly, I believe he is a most elegant man. When I take his hat, he makes me feel elegant too. So I always dip my kneesslightly in a curtsy, and each time Don Solomon murmurs the words “Adecuado por la corte.” This means that I am suitable for the court of the king and queen. He says this so softly, though. I wish he would say the words a little louder so I can be sure Mama and Reyna hear. Next he reaches into his pocket for his green velvet cap and something always falls out. With a flash of his hand
I am too young to have a white-haired mama. I am too young to have a dead father. Mama and Reyna go out to the kitchen to help the maid, Annuncia, with the rest of the preparations for dinner. Mama gives me some small task to keep me away, but I can hear them talking in whispery voices. I am not supposed to hear. But I know what they are talking about—the friar Martinez. They say he is getting worse. I don’t know. I just know that I do not like to think about it. I especially do not like to think about my friend Ruta. She converted. They took her to a church. They sprinkled water on her head, and I think it only gave her a big head. Yes, that is what I think. She is so stuck-up now. Always showing off how she’s learned some things she calls the Credo and the Ave . She said that when Friar Martinez rushed into the synagogue in Córdoba, where her aunt lives, crosses appeared in the air. They hung there for just a minute in the sunlight coming through the windows.
Her name is no longer Ruta. It is Immaculata.When she was baptized, they gave her a Christian name. Imagine me calling her that! Such a long silly name after being called Ruta. I forget all the time and she gets very snippy about it. So I call her nothing most of the time. If I see her in the alley and maybe want to play sticks and pebbles, I just say, “ Oiga! ” “Hey, hey you.” I know it’s rude. I don’t care.
Anyway, I am not thinking of any of this, for tonight Solomon Ben Asher comes to our house for dinner. When Don Solomon comes, it makes the Sabbath even more special. He always has sweets and ribbons in his pockets. Sweets for me and ribbons for Reyna, who now that she is fourteen wears her hair up. Don Solomon is a physician and an astronomer to the court of King Enrique and Queen Catarina. Don Solomon was here when Papa’s heart stopped after the riots in March, when the mobs stormed into the Jewish Quarter. They did not come up our street, but they got to Papa’s warehouse on the Street of the Grapes. They broke all the casks and the sherry flowed across the cobblestones and filled the gutters. Mama says it was a blessing that it was simply his heart that stopped, not like Señor Perera. Something terrible happened to him. I haveheard whispers. But what is so simple about a heart stopping to beat? Now Papa is dead.
I hear a rap at the door. It must be Don Solomon. Annuncia goes to answer it. “Ah, Doña Grazia,” he greets Mama. He is dressed in his court clothes, a sayo , a kind of sleeveless jerkin made of brocaded cloth that is belted at the waist. Underneath he wears a silk shirt with billowing sleeves. On his head there is a tall scarlet hat, which signifies that he is a Jewish physician. He looks very handsome and very dignified, I think. But best of all his hat has gold braid, which means he serves in the court of the king and queen.
It is my job to take Don Solomon’s hat when he arrives. So I always try to stand as tall as I can, even though I am short for my ten years. After he has bowed to my mother and my sister, he turns to me. “Señorita Miriam,” and with a flourish he takes off his hat and gives it to me. This is the best thing about his hat: It smells like limes. Reyna says it is an oil that he uses on his hair. And even though Don Solomon is slightly roly-poly, I believe he is a most elegant man. When I take his hat, he makes me feel elegant too. So I always dip my kneesslightly in a curtsy, and each time Don Solomon murmurs the words “Adecuado por la corte.” This means that I am suitable for the court of the king and queen. He says this so softly, though. I wish he would say the words a little louder so I can be sure Mama and Reyna hear. Next he reaches into his pocket for his green velvet cap and something always falls out. With a flash of his hand
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