The Sacrificial Circumcision of the Bronx Read Free

his breath, he called from the reception desk downstairs. When Millie came down, she led him into a dark alcove; once alone, she threw her arms around him and gave him a passionate kiss.
    “Please don’t do this,” he pleaded.
    “I don’t expect you to understand,” she whispered. “But this is my own … escape.” It was as though she were drunk with the possibility of a new life awaiting her.
    “Whatever does that mean?”
    “It means when I’m visiting you at Princeton or even when I’m here at the campus, everyone looks at me as this proud, smart, annoying girl, but that’s only because I’ve done such a great job hiding my true self behind this pale face.”
    “But what does that have to do with you now?”
    “I was raised in Mexico City. I didn’t know a word of English until I was six. Heck, my mother’s father fought against the gringos when this country stole the northern half of our land more than fifty years ago.”
    “Look, fifty years ago my family were Jews living in Prussia,” Paul replied.
    “All I’m saying is that I’m stuck outside my country, trapped in a petticoat and a social strata. Your mother was right when she said I was living on my father’s blood money. And this is my chance to make amends.”
    She’s going to get herself killed, Paul thought, and kissed her hard on the lips.
    “Unacceptable! Unacceptable!” one of the university matrons shouted over to them, clapping her hands loudly.
    “I still have to pack my bags,” Millie said. She kissed him again and dashed back upstairs.
    Paul paced tensely in the reception area. Some from Millie’s committee had already come down with their steamer trunks and suitcases. A taxi sedan had arrived and was waiting out front. Once they all squeezed in with their luggage, there was no room left, so Paul stood on the running board, hanging on the side. Despite the wind as they drove, he kept shouting to Millie through the window, “Please reconsider! This is a dangerous idea!!”
    They finally arrived at the huge marble-columned station where redcaps with large wooden hand trucks grabbed their trunks and heavy leather bags. They met up with others who had come from various points nearby. After exchanging greetings they all headed to the gated ticket windows. Paul waited until he was alone with Millie, then dropped to one knee and said, “Marry me!”
    “What?!”
    “Be my wife!”
    The surprise in her eyes melted to a slightly amused sadness. “I’ll do it if you come with me.”
    “That would defeat the whole point.”
    “Which is to keep me here.”
    “To keep you safe, ” he clarified. “Is there something wrong with that?”
    “No, but I do love you, Paul,” she said. “And one of the reasons I love you is because I know that if we were in Mexico City and you heard that America had been taken over by a tyrant, you’d come back up here to oppose him.”
    Not if I were a woman, he thought.
    One of the fellows on the LAST SCaM committee, a skinny young man named Victor Gonzalez, handed her a train ticket and the group walked over to their track. The first leg of the trip was an express train which would take them as far as St. Louis. Paul walked alongside Millie and a redcap valet to the door of the train.
    “I’ll write you at every opportunity,” she said.
    Paul boarded the locomotive with her. The entire committee had bought sleeping berths in first class.
    “Where can I write to you?” he asked nervously.
    She proceeded to scribble down her family address in Mexico City, as well as the addresses of three friends living in the countryside. “I’ll write you as soon as I get down there, but if you don’t hear from me, one of these people should know where I am.”
    “A person’s life is defined by the caution of their choices,” he said in an effort to sound authoritative. “This could be the worst decision you will ever make.”
    “Despite what you might think, I’m not trying to be a hero and I have