Jacob's Way Read Free Page A

toe into the water. “Ooh, that’s good!” she whispered, then slowly immersed herself. The water came up to the edge of the pot so that only her head and knees were out. She lay there soaking up the delicious heat for a time, then finally straightened up and pulled the pins from her hair so that it cascaded down her back. She had beautiful black hair that came down to her waist, but no one ever saw it. She kept it done up and covered by a scarf, as all respectable Jewish women did.
    The soap was rough and almost gritty, but she managed to work up a lather as she washed her hair, then soaped herself all over. Filling the smaller pot with warm water, she rinsed herself and her hair. Finally she stepped out.
    Being completely undressed embarrassed her, even though she was all alone. As the daughter of an Orthodox Jew, she had arrived at the notion that the body was something to be covered and not exploited. She toweled herself dry and for one moment stared down at her body, thinking, I must have grown. I’m taller. Indeed, she was a tall young woman, with the prominent curves of young womanhood. She had long legs and a rather short upper body, and her muscles were firm, although lean rations had kept her very slender.
    She put on the underwear, the gatkes , then quickly donned a long gray woolen dress. Finally she sat with her back to the fire combing her hair and letting it dry. This was a time of peace for her, and she hummed under her breath. Finally, her hair dry, she moved over to the small mirror and began plaiting it so that she could put it under her scarf. Without meaning to do so, she studied her face. She was not a vain young woman, and would have been astonished if anyone had called her beautiful. Her hair was black as the blackest thing in nature, and her eyes were enormous—a strange gray-green color, with a beautiful, faintly oriental shape. She had an oval face with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. But one feature she always noticed was the widow’s peak, the tiny “V” of the hairline that dipped down on her forehead. She touched it and said playfully, “I ought to cut you off!”
    Finally she emptied the large pot a basin at a time, throwing the water out the door, then carried the pot outside. She felt strange about taking baths, for none of her neighbors seemed to enjoy the ritual—but she was determined to have this one pleasure.
    Hunger gnawed at her, and she moved quickly to prepare herself a small meal. She made tea in the samovar, heated a little of the beet soup that they had had for supper, and after she had eaten that she found a bit of taiglech , a small cake dipped in honey. She ate one of them, then Boris, her cat, came purring roughly and shoving his blunt head against her leg.
    â€œOh, Boris! Are you hungry? Here, I saved you some fish.” Quickly she took the fish out of the cupboard, laid it out, and watched as he ate, stroking his coal-black fur. He looked up from time to time licking his chops, his enormous green eyes studying her. When he finished, she broke off a piece of the taiglech and offered it to him. “Do you like sweet cakes, Boris?” She laughed when he ate it. “Of course you do. You like everything.”
    Reisa rose and moved to the cage that her grandfather had made out of small branches, opened the door, and fed the small bird that was regaining his health. He had been mangled by a cat, and Boris was under suspicion. Reisa was always torn between her love for birds and her love for Boris. She often said to him, “Boris, you’re a mamzer!” This was the Yiddish word for trickster that she had heard her mother use many times.
    Reisa put on her coat, then picked up a package wrapped in brown paper. As she started for the door, Boris came at once with his nose stuck in the crack. “No! You can’t go,” Reisa said.
    Boris looked up at her—and grinned.
    Reisa laughed aloud at this ludicrous