Recap: Aida’s mother needs to go to North America to have surgery. Vanna endangered herself to bring a note from the prison to Aida from Aida’s father. Rabbi H tells Aida that he will try to get help from the woman in Canada and get political pressure to get her father out of prison, and also he will work out a way to get her mother to North America.
Ima was sitting up in the living room, reading, when I walked in.
“How are you feeling, Ima?” I kissed both her cheeks.
“Better,” she said.
But I saw that she had dark circles under her eyes and her face was so pale.
“Any word about Aba?” she asked.
I debated about showing her the torn paper from Vanna.
Mommy’s face was so pale. No; better not to tell her the bad news. It was too much for her to deal with right now.
I shook my head and went into the kitchen to start dinner.
“How was the store?”
“It’s fine. I’m getting better at it,” I said.
“I guess it’s for the best that you left school, so now you can work at Aba’s store while he’s away. Still, education is so important. I want you to keep up your reading, Aida, and stick to the schedule we made when you can. Promise me that you will.”
“Yes, Mommy, I will, bli neder. I have books from Stella, and I have some math books from Stella that they use in eighth and ninth grade. I will keep up my studies.”
I started the mechshe recipe. Ima had taught me how to do it when I was little, so it wasn’t hard for me now. I browned the meat in a large pan. I cooked the rice in a pot with a lid. Then I began chopping vegetables that were fresh from our garden. I added turmeric and fresh basil. I loved the scent of basil.
I thought about the smell of those apples and cinnamon at Rabbi H’s house and I decided to make some baked apples for us for dinner. I had pita bread left over from yesterday, so I took two pitas from the storage bin.
When everything was ready, I placed a plate with small portions of each dish on a tray along with the pita and some hummus. The apples were still baking. I brought the tray into the living room for Ima.
“You’re waiting on me. Not necessary, Aida.”
I set the tray down on a small table near her. I noticed that she moved very slowly as she pulled her chair closer to the table.
“This smells wonderful. Of course, you had the best teacher.” Ima laughed and her old smile caused the little lines by her kind brown eyes to crinkle.
“Definitely the best,” I said.
I brought another plate with larger portions and set it down near Ima’s plate on the table. Then I went into the kitchen to get the washing cup, a basin, and a wash towel.
“Uch, so much fussing,” Ima said as she grasped the washing cup. Her hand trembled as she let the water pour over her hands twice on each hand, and then she took the towel and recited the brachah with her eyes closed and with much feeling.
I bit into the delicious mechshe. “It’s good, no?” I asked.
Ima had nibbled on a corner of hers and now she was just sitting there smiling and not eating.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s wonderful, Aida. It’s wonderful, but I’m not so hungry right now. There’s some pain.” She pointed at her chest.
I stopped eating. “Ima, we should call the doctor. It could be serious.”
“I get it all day. The pain comes and goes in waves.”
“How long have you been getting this pain?”
Ima closed her eyes and opened them. “I think since last night.”
She pointed at her chest. “It’s like a pressure there.”
I rushed toward the door. I’m going to the Al-Gaissis to use their phone. You need a doctor now.”
Ima was calling weakly. “No!”
If only Aba was here. He would calm her and get the doctor. Well, I had to do it for him. Pressure on the heart could be a heart attack. Aunt Bea had warned me about that.
Please, someone be home. I knocked loudly on the neighbor’s front door. It was so cruel that Jews weren’t allowed to own a phone. We had to depend on our Arab neighbors if we needed one. And now in an emergency – well the government didn’t care about Jews or emergencies.
Mrs. Al-Gaissi answered. She was wearing a red burka with silver trim.
“Please, my mother is very sick. Her heart. I must call an ambulance.”
She nodded and pointed me towards their phone that was in the hallway.
I dialed the emergency number.
An operator answered.
“My mother needs an ambulance.” I gave her our street address.
“We’ll send someone, but the Jewish Quarter always gets last priority,” she said and hung up.
To be continued…
Susie Garber is the author of an historical fiction novel, Flight of the Doves (Menucha Publishing, 2023), Please Be Polite (Menucha Publishers, 2022), A Bridge in Time (Menucha Publishing, 2021), Secrets in Disguise (Menucha Publishers, 2020), Denver Dreams (a novel, Jerusalem Publications, 2009), Memorable Characters…Magnificent Stories (Scholastic, 2002), Befriend (Menucha Publishers, 2013), The Road Less Traveled (Feldheim, 2015), fiction serials and features in Binah Magazine and Binyan Magazine, “Moon Song” in Binyan (2021-2022), and Alaskan Gold ( 2023-2024).