Read Online The World Outside by Eva Wiseman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eva Wiseman
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gone, Devorah Leah grabbed my arm.
“Oh, Chanie! I didn’t think you … I mean, I thought you …”
“You think too much, Devorah Leah. I’m only meeting him to tell him to leave me alone.”
She winked at me. “Sure you are.”
“I am!”
She grinned. “Oh, this is so much more exciting than watching
Roseanne
!”
At ten to four, I was pushing Moishe’s wheelchair down Eastern Parkway. We stopped for a moment in front of 770, and I pointed out the windows of the Rebbe’s office and the mitzvah tanks parked out front. We arrived at the park a few minutes later and stopped at a bench in the shade of a giant tree. It was completely silent except for the chirping of a bird on a high branch. There wasno sign of David. Moishe was blinking in the sunlight, so I turned his wheelchair around until his face was in the shade. I sat down on the bench, careful to smooth my long black skirt beneath me, for it was my Shabbos best. I was also wearing my prettiest white blouse.
I took the water bottle I always carried in the pocket of Moishe’s wheelchair and held it up to his lips. I also gave him the cookie I’d brought from home. Once he finished his snack, though, he became restless, waving his arms about and gurgling in an agitated manner. “A … A … A …” he cried. I wiped the spittle off his chin and removed his warm black jacket. It didn’t help. He began rocking back and forth, back and forth, and became noisier than before.
My watch showed that David was fifteen minutes late. “I guess he isn’t coming,” I said to Moishe. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or relieved.”
My brother stared at me and grunted, as if he understood what I was saying.
“Let’s wait just a little longer.” I kissed Moishe’s cheek and put my hands on his shoulders. He began to rock even more violently. “Stop rocking! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I didn’t know what to do. Usually, the sound of my voice soothed him, so I began to sing the oldest Chabad melody of all, “Ribono Shel Olom.”
First, I sang it in Yiddish, the language of the Lubavitcher people:
“ ‘Ribono shel olom, Ribono shel olom, du bist doch unzer foter, un mir zainen daine kinder.’ ”
I followed the Yiddish with the English translation: “ ‘O Master of the Universe, Master of the Universe, You are our Father and we are Your children.’ ”
Then I leaned over, put my face against Moishe’s and sang it without words. I repeated the tune over and over. Eventually, Moishe snuggled against me and fell silent. A deep sense of peace engulfed me.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “The Master of the Universe will look after you.”
All at once, loud clapping startled me. I pulled away from Moishe to see David standing on the grass behind us and clapping with all his might.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got off at the wrong station.” Without waiting for my reply, he crouched down beside my brother’s chair. “How are you feeling today, Moishe?” he asked. “Are you having a good time in the park?”
Moishe examined him with serious eyes before he broke out in a happy grin. David patted Moishe’s arm and straightened up.
“You have an amazing voice, Chanie,” he said, turning to me. “I couldn’t believe my ears. I’ve never heard anybody sing like you.”
“You aren’t supposed to hear me sing at all!”
“Why not?”
He sat down on the bench beside me, so I slid to the other end. I stared at the trees, at the grass, at my brother—anywhere but at him.
“Why can’t I hear you sing?” he repeated.
“It’s forbidden. A man can’t hear a woman sing unless she’s a member of his family.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to. All you have to know is that it’s forbidden.”
“But I don’t understand.” He shook his head in confusion. “Don’t you want others to hear you sing?”
I knew I should say that no Lubavitcher girl would want that,
“Oh, Chanie! I didn’t think you … I mean, I thought you …”
“You think too much, Devorah Leah. I’m only meeting him to tell him to leave me alone.”
She winked at me. “Sure you are.”
“I am!”
She grinned. “Oh, this is so much more exciting than watching
Roseanne
!”
At ten to four, I was pushing Moishe’s wheelchair down Eastern Parkway. We stopped for a moment in front of 770, and I pointed out the windows of the Rebbe’s office and the mitzvah tanks parked out front. We arrived at the park a few minutes later and stopped at a bench in the shade of a giant tree. It was completely silent except for the chirping of a bird on a high branch. There wasno sign of David. Moishe was blinking in the sunlight, so I turned his wheelchair around until his face was in the shade. I sat down on the bench, careful to smooth my long black skirt beneath me, for it was my Shabbos best. I was also wearing my prettiest white blouse.
I took the water bottle I always carried in the pocket of Moishe’s wheelchair and held it up to his lips. I also gave him the cookie I’d brought from home. Once he finished his snack, though, he became restless, waving his arms about and gurgling in an agitated manner. “A … A … A …” he cried. I wiped the spittle off his chin and removed his warm black jacket. It didn’t help. He began rocking back and forth, back and forth, and became noisier than before.
My watch showed that David was fifteen minutes late. “I guess he isn’t coming,” I said to Moishe. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or relieved.”
My brother stared at me and grunted, as if he understood what I was saying.
“Let’s wait just a little longer.” I kissed Moishe’s cheek and put my hands on his shoulders. He began to rock even more violently. “Stop rocking! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I didn’t know what to do. Usually, the sound of my voice soothed him, so I began to sing the oldest Chabad melody of all, “Ribono Shel Olom.”
First, I sang it in Yiddish, the language of the Lubavitcher people:
“ ‘Ribono shel olom, Ribono shel olom, du bist doch unzer foter, un mir zainen daine kinder.’ ”
I followed the Yiddish with the English translation: “ ‘O Master of the Universe, Master of the Universe, You are our Father and we are Your children.’ ”
Then I leaned over, put my face against Moishe’s and sang it without words. I repeated the tune over and over. Eventually, Moishe snuggled against me and fell silent. A deep sense of peace engulfed me.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “The Master of the Universe will look after you.”
All at once, loud clapping startled me. I pulled away from Moishe to see David standing on the grass behind us and clapping with all his might.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got off at the wrong station.” Without waiting for my reply, he crouched down beside my brother’s chair. “How are you feeling today, Moishe?” he asked. “Are you having a good time in the park?”
Moishe examined him with serious eyes before he broke out in a happy grin. David patted Moishe’s arm and straightened up.
“You have an amazing voice, Chanie,” he said, turning to me. “I couldn’t believe my ears. I’ve never heard anybody sing like you.”
“You aren’t supposed to hear me sing at all!”
“Why not?”
He sat down on the bench beside me, so I slid to the other end. I stared at the trees, at the grass, at my brother—anywhere but at him.
“Why can’t I hear you sing?” he repeated.
“It’s forbidden. A man can’t hear a woman sing unless she’s a member of his family.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to. All you have to know is that it’s forbidden.”
“But I don’t understand.” He shook his head in confusion. “Don’t you want others to hear you sing?”
I knew I should say that no Lubavitcher girl would want that,
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