David Bezmozgis - The Free World

In the hallway, Alec explained their predicament.

— We have contemplated New Jersey, Los Angeles, Miami, Atlanta, and Seattle, Alec said.

— Do you want my advice? Syomka asked.

It was understood that the question was purely rhetorical. They lived in a fog of doubt and apprehension. Nobody refused advice.

— My advice, Syomka said, is Canada. Safer, cleaner, and in climate not all that different from Latvia. They have just increased their numbers. They want young, professional families.

— And our parents? Karl asked.

— Any serious health problems? Syomka asked.

Emma started to speak when Samuil cut her off.

— Nothing extraordinary for people our age, Samuil said.

— I can give you the forms for the United States, just in case. But now is a good time for Canada. I’d consider it myself but I’ve been waiting on Australia for so long I already feel Australian, Syomka said.

— Do we have to decide this second? Karl asked.

— No, you can think about it, Syomka said.

— We’ll think about it, Karl said.

— You can use the stairwell. It’s quiet. I’ll come and fetch you in ten minutes, Syomka said, and opened the door that led to the stairwell.

In the stairwell, Karl’s sons, sensing the gravity of the situation, hooted once to hear the echo, and then were silenced. Karl remained standing and leaned his back against the door.

— This is how you decide your family’s future, ten minutes in a stairwell? Samuil asked.

— Are we talking seriously about Canada? Rosa asked.

— I am, Karl said.

— Just like that you’re prepared to go and say Canada? What do we know about it? Rosa continued.

— What do we know about anyplace? Karl said. You watched the Olympics. You liked what you saw of Montreal. And in 1972 they also showed something of Toronto, Winnipeg, and Vancouver.

— You’re talking about the hockey games? Rosa asked incredulously.

— Da, da Canada; nyet, nyet Soviet, Alec said.

— If you have nothing intelligent to add, Rosa said.

— It’s more European than America, and more American than Europe.

— What does that mean? Rosa asked.

— It means, Alec said, that a person can eat and dress like a human being, watch hockey, and accomplish all this without victimizing Negroes and Latin American peasants.

— Basically, Karl said. Their dollar is also strong.

— It doesn’t concern you that we will have to stay for months in Italy? Rosa asked.

— That’s a reason against Canada?

— It’s something to take into account.

— Very well. I take it into account. We won’t be the only ones. We’ll manage. The boys will spend the summer at the beach. In the fall we’ll leave and they’ll start school.

— Now I’ll have to explain to my parents that we’re going to Canada, Rosa said, essentially to herself.

— What’s there to explain? Karl said. They understand how it is. One door closed, another door opened.

At this moment, Syomka reappeared. As he ushered Alec and Polina toward one of the small HIAS offices, Alec heard Syomka say to Karl, Now, for the rest of your lives you’ll remember me.

— For good or ill, it remains to be seen, Rosa said.

And then Alec and Polina were alone with their caseworker. The nameplate on her desk read Matilda Levy. She was a woman of a certain age whose hairdo, perfume, and bulky rings identified her as a fading continental beauty. Though Alec was certain that they had never met her before, she didn’t bother with the formality of introductions. Almost before he and Polina sat down Matilda recited what she believed to be the pertinent information.

— Riga, Matilda said, I knew it before the war. My father had business there. A European city. That works in your favor. The Canadian government prefers people from the Baltics. They took enough of them after the war, not a few of them Nazi butchers. You speak English?

— Yes, Alec said.

— Your wife doesn’t.

— No.

— But you we could use. Semyon said your English is as good as his. It could take six months or longer to process the papers for Canada. Meanwhile we could use you as an interpreter. It would mean eighty mila lire more for you each week. Come back tomorrow and I will explain everything. It isn’t very complicated. Now, we will have to make some appointments for you and your wife to see a doctor. You don’t have tuberculosis, do you?

— No, Alec said.

— They will x-ray you anyway. You both look healthy enough to me.

The woman proffered a document for them to sign.

— This is to confirm that you want to go to Canada. You will get a notice in the mail for the doctor’s appointment and for your interview with the Canadian consulate. A word of advice: if you want to go to Toronto, don’t ask for Toronto. Good? Good. Now, if you could call in your brother and his family.

Like that, Alec and Polina left the office. Karl, Rosa, and the boys entered in turn, then Samuil and Emma. Later, when Alec and Karl reconstructed the first meeting with Matilda Levy, neither could recall having ever told her that they had decided to change their destination from America to Canada.

There had been a point — once it became obvious that his sons would leave Riga, that no manner of threats or appeals would deter them, and that his family and his reputation would be destroyed — when Samuil had, for the first time in his life, contemplated suicide. The idea plagued him for weeks. He sought a reason to keep living, to justify his waking-and-breathing participation in the future. Almost certainly he would be expelled from the Party. And then what kind of life would he have in Riga? At best, the phone would ring occasionally when a former colleague’s wife would take pity and invite him for dinner. But could he even see himself accepting such invitations? What could he possibly say to people and what could people possibly say to him? And as for the other alternative — emigration — it was, in its own way, equally bad. But after a lifetime spent eluding death, the habit of survival was deeply ingrained. He could not separate the image of putting a revolver to his head or jumping into the Daugava from the image of the White thugs who murdered his father — themselves doubtless long cold in their graves — dancing, singing, and drinking in celebration. He was not prepared to give them the satisfaction.

In Ladispoli, thoughts of suicide returned. There was nothing here for a man like him. The young men, like Karl, packed their bags of trinkets and laid them out on blankets near the beach. When the police came, they scattered. When the police left, they returned. To see such things brought back to memory his first lessons in the Soviet Yiddish school in Rogozna. Their teacher had instructed them in the alphabet:

Is “komets” and “alef” O?

O!

Is “komets” and “beys” Bo?

Bo!

Is there a God?

No!

Is there a shop owner?

No!

Is there a landlord?

No!

Men his age he saw tending to their grandchildren, pushing prams, shaking rattles. Emma encouraged him to take the boys. Somehow, it had not occurred to her that this would offend a man’s sensibilities. More than offend. To be a useless old man was bad enough; to transform himself into an old woman was worse.

To break the monotony, Samuil walked. Most mornings he would start by going to Club Kadima, where he could listen to the radio or read the weekly émigré newspaper, Jews in Transit. Then he would walk to the beach and skirt Piazza Marescotti. There, among the other peddlers, he would see veterans with medals pinned to their blazers and shirts. There were only several who were more decorated than he, although Samuil would have been hard-pressed to prove this claim given that his medals had been confiscated at Chop by a smug, acne-faced customs clerk.