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by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncmR4Wof0UQ

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Previously...

"Your name... My name is Eitel Kotler, but you can call me Bubbe Eitel. We all have names."

Yehudit looked at the woman as she eyed her up and down and for the first time in her life she knew that everything would be all right. And she spoke with a brand new confidence borne of the love of Tevye and Devorah and Ester Sokol; only one word, but a password of sorts that would bear hear admission in a whole new world.

“Yes.”

Riga, Latvia, May, 1912…

“Yudi? “ the old woman called from the front of the store. The aroma of fresh challah filled the bakery and drifted happily to the street outside. The bell on the door rang with a soft clink. A moment later a man stood at the counter.

“Your employer is doing well by you, Bubbe, yes?”

“I can’t complain. And employer? You forget he and I are betrothed,” Bubbe Eitel laughed softly. At nearly seventy-seven, Meyer Abkin would remain married to his business; the bakery was his second love after his beloved wife Akiva who had preceded him into paradise, so to speak, only three years previous. He lived in the small apartment above the bakery, but made available the large room at the back of the store, giving the old woman a home and a safe haven for her and her granddaughter Yehudit.

At least that was the plan. The man who stood at the counter wanted to help amend that arrangement, and what was the harm in that.

“You haven’t told me your answer, and it’s been quite some time since I asked? Should I just move on?” Bubbe Eitel shook her head.

“The girl is not yet thirteen, Moshe Galitzsky; a fact we have discussed more than several times. Patience, my dear man, patience. Time enough to find a bride. You look hale and very sturdy and the Olinsky family has already three daughters of age; all very strong and healthy.” The man was past his fortieth birthday, but was as well-off as anyone in their neighborhood.

“I’m not looking for strong, Bubbe Eitel.” He looked over her shoulder through the door to the back of the bakery. Yehudit blushed and turned away. Things had been challenging enough in a new place with new acquaintances and even a few friends, but life would come to an abrupt halt if her secret was discovered.

“Think about it, Bubbe, it could mean a great deal for you and the girl.”

“I’ll think about it. Here, have a nice babka….you like sweets, Moshe Galitsky. But like baking, making a family is all about timing. I’ll think about it, but you should really think about the Olinsky girls. Or maybe even the widow Papernik; she’s still young and has three boys who could help you with your business.” Moshe shook his head absent-mindedly and looked once again to the back of the bakery. Yehudit had disappeared. He nodded to Bubbe Eitel and walked out with the babka tucked under his arm.

“Come, myddl…it’s safe now. “ A moment later Yehudit stood next to the old woman and looked out the window of the bakery as the man disappeared around a corner.

“We cannot continue this. I must….” She put her head down and began to cry. A second later a gnarled hand softly her chin.

“No turning back….no matter what happens, you can’t.”

“It’s not too late. I don’t….you can be hurt…bad, Bubbe. I won’t let that happen.”

“Nonsense, child. Besides…at seventy-three, what more can life throw at me that I have not yet faced? When I lost my Abi, I thought I could not go on. But here I am. And you can face everything life throws at you, myddl, yes?” She patted Yehudit on the cheek playfully.

“I know a man…my cousin’s friend. He’s a doctor. He’ll help.”

“Unless he can put me back in my mother’s womb….” The girl put her head down; both the memory of her mother and the futility of hoping for the hopeless sent her into the old woman’s arms, weeping.

“Let me see what we can do, my little Yudi.” She held the girl in her arms as she sang an old lullaby to the girl; putting the girl’s fears to rest, so to speak. It wasn’t the best plan in the world, but it was at least a plan. Who could know what was possible unless they tried.

“What about H’r Galitsky, Bubbe? He seems determined.

“Well, he wants his own children. It will not be easy for him to hear, but he doesn’t need to know the reason why you cannot have children, my sweet Yudi. No worries.” She patted the girl on the cheek once again; this time much less playful and more out of an assurance and endearment.

“It will never work, Bubbe…It can’t.”

“It can and it will,” she said with a smile.

“Just give it to the Almighty, myddl. He made you the way you are; not how others wish to see you or even how you fear yourself to be. You are Yehudit Sokol. From before you were born, grʼandʼátʻr!”

“I have prayed every night since I can remember, Bubbe…every night.”

“From your mouth to His ears, myddl.” She looked at the girl and then looked upward; a hopeful prayer if there ever was one.

The home of Dr. Zalman Abramov, a few weeks later…

“You understand there are no promises, yes?” The man had just walked around a screen; talking over his shoulder at the girl.

“Yes…I don’t understand…” her voice trailed off.

“You’re…there’s something about you, myddl. You aren’t quite ….normal.” He laughed softly.

“The…doesn’t every boy have one of those?” He could almost picture her looking down even though she was hidden behind the screen.

“No, child.” He shook his head. He had only read about children like Yehudit Sokol, but until that moment had never seen one in all of his years as a doctor, and he had seen it all, as they say.

“You’re….unique. Like your own twin? A boy and a girl in the same body? I don’t know how to explain but no, no boy has that. And no girl has what you also have. But we can make sure one way or the other. I have a friend…a colleague…we can settle things for you. And judging by your appearance, none too soon. I take it you want to be Yehudit?” The girl winced as she walked around the screen; her eyes widened in confusion before clarity quickly set in. He held up his hand, gesturing with a soft, downward motion.

“I’m sorry, myddl, I can see you are Yehudit. We just have to make things fit both inside and outside.

“I’m….” She put her head down.

“Scared? Everyone is scared sometimes, Yehudit,” Bubbe Eitel said as she put a shawl around the girl’s shoulders.

“Will I…can I…”

“I don’t know, yet. We can only hope. But we will help you.” Zalman Abramov grabbed both of the girl’s hands in his and squeezed gently.

“Will you?” The thought of her dreams being fulfilled overcame the girl and she began to sob. The old man drew her into his arms and patted her gently on her back just as if he was her own Zayde Zalman. Bubbe Eitel stepped closer and put her hand on Yehudit’s shoulder.

“See? From your mouth to His ear!” She laughed and continued to rub the girl’s shoulder gently. As she did, she noticed that while Zalman Abramov was continuing to pat the girl’s back, his attention had turned to Eitel Kotler. He smiled warmly at her and she blushed.

Somewhere between time and space where dreams are born…

“You make a beautiful bride, Yehudit,” a voice came as from beyond; almost like a messenger of sorts. The girl looked down and found herself not in wedding finery, but a simple old green dress. She sighed.

“Yehudit?”

The voice quickly gave way to the sound of crowing down the lane as the girl woke up. She looked around and saw that she was in the old bed in the backroom of the bakery and that the dawn’s sunlight had just begun to peek through the worn curtain of the one small window at the rear of the room.

The home of Zalman Abramov once again; only days later…

“What would the Reb say if he knew you were here…helping?” Bubbe Eitel shook her head and looked out the large window in the sitting room, as if the teacher might stroll casually up the walk and come into the house.

“Well…” The old man paused and laughed. Issur Demsky was more than a doctor; the neighborhood sage, in a way. Apart from the Reb, most everyone looked to him for advice. And advice he gave; freely but with great caution and disclaimer.

“I am not my brother. You should ask him.” He would say; a perfectly good response since he was the wisest man in the neighborhood save for one; his brother Issak, the Reb. Issur looked the girl up and down and half-smiled.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news….never mind. It’s all bad news.” He laughed, indicating that while things weren’t going to be good, neither would they be bad.

“Stop teasing. It’s hard enough for the girl.” Yehudit winced at the description. She was glad that someone besides Bubbe Eitel understood, but the ‘hard enough’ seemed to be trying to push her hope aside. The middle aged woman standing next to Bubbe Eitel used her hand in a broad gesture.

“Issur Demsky; give the girl some answers. Stop with the teasing and help the poor girl.” Miryam Demsky scolded her husband.

“I’m not sure what is good news and what is bad, but I will try to convey both in a way that will be helpful and not hurt too much.” Two doctors in the room, and no sign of any good thing. Yehudit put her head down. Miryam put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“What he means to say…” She looked back and forth between Issur and her brother Zalman and smiled.

“What they mean to say is that you’re not a boy…. That much they are sure of. But …” she paused and practically stared at the girl’s waist.

“I’m sorry, myddl… It’s …”

“A start that came too quickly to an end,” Bubbe Eitel interjected. Yehudit would never have the worry of siring any children, but she would never know the joy of bearing them, either. The old woman stepped closer and Miryam deferred while remaining close as Bubbe Eitel pulled Yehudit into a consoling hug. Never once in her first twelve years had she given thought to what it might mean to be a girl even though she longed for that. But on the verge of womanhood, in a manner of speaking, the moment became one of sad realization as she felt the loss for what she never had and never would have in this lifetime. She gave way to the overwhelming sorrow that had filled the room and wept in Bubbe Eitel’s arms.

“Shhhhh….shhhh….” The old woman said softly; a warm blessing in the midst of what felt like a curse. But as the psalmist says somewhere, I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken in the land of the living. What the Almighty deigned to take away….rather what He chose not to bestow? Bubbe Eitel was convinced that what would come into the girl’s life would more than make up for any lack she felt she had or anything she felt was necessary to be a blessing to others. What she may have lacked in her body would be more than compensated by the love in her heart she was destined to share with others. And that love would find its way in time to bless one in particular…

To be continued...

Papa Can You Hear Me?
from the motion pictureYentl
The song was composed by Michel Legrand,
with lyrics by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman.
As performed by Itzhak Perlman

Artwork adapted from
The Dark Haired Beauty
by Alexej Harlamoff