Ghita Schwarz - Displaced Persons

And he had been caught once, during his second or third year in the military. Now he could not remember the particular lie, but when he thought of the Tel Aviv café on an autumn evening, sitting with a few friends from his company, his stomach still folded in shame. Two women had been at their table. What had he said? He did not want to remember. But after he had said it, one of the women-she must have been European, even Polish-had given him a quick look in which he saw first warmth, then puzzlement, then-accusation. She wore glasses but was pretty, a slim brunette, long legs that folded under her seat as they drank, perhaps a bit older than he. Her head had given a half-shake, not perceptible to his companions but clear to Chaim. She did not believe him. He had felt himself blush and quickly had stood up to use the bathroom. Suddenly the shame of the lie had seemed greater than the shame of what it covered, that he had not borne arms, that he had roamed through the city just after his escape with a friend, then from village to village looking for work as a field hand, that his time with the partisans had come so late, after he had found himself all alone, that it had seemed more a shelter than a battleground. He had lost his brothers and the last friend he had escaped with, and he felt himself a traitor just for being alive.

PAVEL SPOTTED SOMEONE HE knew. A man on the arm of his wife waved and walked past, then took a seat a few rows ahead of them. Glick. Pavel turned to Chaim.

I know him from the business. A prominent man. Manufactures the linings for the biggest designers. Pavel threw another smile in the man’s direction, then nodded to Chaim again. He is interested in buying when we sell, but Kuba wants to wait for something bigger.

Hmm? Chaim seemed surprised. So you sell already.

Not yet, not yet, no evil eye, it is just-well, you know, my son is not in the business, of course, that was never his interest, and for me to hold on-

What does Kuba say?

Well, you know. Pavel sighed. Kuba still wants Michael to draw a salary from there, he is our finance manager, you see, very good with numbers, excellent-and, of course, we want to sell so that we still work for the new owners, just without the risk-I am not ready to retire, you know, I have something in me still!

It’s a good time, isn’t it? All these big companies buying.

I think so, said Pavel, his hands and cheeks growing warmer. How long since he had discussed business with Chaim! Yes, Chaim was coming closer to everyone, finally, after all these years. He was coming closer.

I think so, Pavel repeated. For a long time I didn’t think it was, now I do. Now I do. He turned his face from Chaim’s. I used to make business, didn’t I, Chaim? You remember. I was afraid of nothing.

Chaim looked at him for a moment. It’s different, Pavel. A completely different time now.

I think it’s the right time, Pavel said. I do. And Kuba also thinks so.

Kuba had seemed cheerful that week, more than usual. Pavel had begun to agree with him more. It made Pavel nervous to give in, but he did not have the energy for the arguments anymore. He was more than seventy years old. His son and his daughter would not go into the business. They were doing something better. Larry was a doctor- Columbia Medical School!-and Helen had a master’s degree. It was too early for Pavel to retire, of course, too early for Kuba too, but now they could sell at a good price, maintain good salaries as employees to the new owner, even hold on to a job for Michael, who wanted to make changes, work for a more modern company, not be stuck in the old style of his father and uncle.

Still the plans made Pavel nervous. Every idea he had for a sale, to an acquaintance or business colleague, Kuba did not like. With you it is only to friends, only among friends, Kuba would complain. This is business, American business! We can do better! All right. If Kuba thought a better deal was in the making, let Kuba find it. Pavel would not lose anything by letting Kuba have his way. And as yet Kuba had not found anything. So! There was time. Pavel still had strength, he could hold on while Kuba looked for the perfect purchaser. He could hold on.

He did not speak to Fela about the details. He did not speak to Fela about any of it at all. And for the most part she kept silent. Except in the last few days. He had mentioned, casually, accidentally-really, he was beginning to forget what to tell her and what to leave out-that Kuba was meeting with a prospective buyer in the coming week. Someone big. But then Pavel revealed he had agreed with Kuba that this was something for Kuba to handle on his own. Kuba knew Pavel’s wishes.

For the first time since he knew her, his wife had opened her mouth about his business.

Pavel, Fela had said. I want you to go to the negotiations with Kuba.

Why? I trust him. I have so much work-

You are being-you have no-you are being a fool, just giving him everything over you without asking a single question. He probably goes with Michael and not with you.

Pavel had refused to answer. So what if Kuba went with his son?

Fela read his look. Pavel! Are you crazy? Do you think I don’t have anything to do with your decisions? All right, you don’t care about yourself, but what about your wife? He thinks he knows more than you, but he is wrong! You think he knows more than you, he and this little brat of his son!

Fela!

It is true!

I know whom to trust!

You! You know whom to trust! You, of all people!

Her face had made Pavel worry. But he did not know how to interpret her worries. It was a fact, Fela and Hinda were not the closest of friends, and it was also a fact that Kuba was not the easiest man in the world. But this did not mean that one attributed to him the possibility of a double cross, of betrayal-

Chaim, Pavel said. What did you think of Kuba when we met the first time?

Nothing, said Chaim. I don’t remember. I never liked his friend, of course. From the beginning he was-Chaim paused, then switched to English, “a phony.”

Of course. That’s a nice way to put it.

Of course I couldn’t guess what he would do in the end-Pavel looked at him, shook his head, and Chaim left the topic-but Kuba! I don’t remember thinking too much one way or the other. I was so young.

You’re not in love with him, this I know.

So! I’m in love with other people.

What? Are you-

Pavel, please, I’m just joking. I thought we talked of your business.

Your family is my business too! Pavel grinned again. But Chaim seemed to do all right without his interference. Pavel and Fela had liked Sima from the beginning. Chaim had made a good choice, Pavel reflected. Even as a boy Chaim had not taken to Marek Rembishevski. Chaim had a sense about people, for bad and for good too. He had attached himself to Fela the moment he saw her in a Polish market. He had a sense.

BUT I DO THINK, Chaim continued, keeping his face calm, I do think that Kuba-he thinks he knows more than he does. He was always a little too sure.

Kuba. Well, he always thought of himself as smart. I don’t say he isn’t, of course.

Of course. Chaim smiled.

I just say that a more intelligent man than himself, he doesn’t happen to know.

I think it is all right to keep an eye on his plans, if it doesn’t insult him. Chaim gave Pavel a sideward glance. With Pavel’s face in profile, Chaim could see the crushed bones of Pavel’s cheek in the space between his glasses and his eyes. I think it is all right for you to watch.

Pavel looked at him. Has Fela been talking to you?

Chaim blushed. No, no! Of course not. I just say-

She says the same thing. She wants me to watch.

Why do you think she says it?

Pavel stiffened. I think she spoke to you, Chaml.