As they entered the building
and turned down a dark corridor all Naomi could think was, Now what will I do? The man pointed to a chair in a stark office.
Steeling her resolve, she entered, sat down, and clutched the old, brown,
leather suitcase to her chest. Seeing an official take a man into a room, she
heard his interview begin. The door shut. Her mind raced, Now what…what now, demanding an answer. She closed her eyes and
tried to think of one but there were none. No answers for immigration, and she
had known there would be none even before she ran away from home in the middle
of the night without a goodbye or a note explaining. Aware that running away
from the reality of being a Jew in a country that allowed only those of one
faith, and that one not hers, to live there, she had planned to find her uncle
once she was allowed into America and help him bring their family here. Tears
formed. She blinked them back, certain that if she cried, she would never be
allowed to enter America.
Seeking oblivion, she closed
her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, she would find this was a horrid
nightmare. Her mind brought her back to the moment fear had taken control of
her life once more. She heard herself screaming, “Abuela Sosa, please do not be
dead!” Her mamá’s training took over
because she heard her say, Mi hija, think
of something else. She tried, but as if things could not get any worse, the
image of the old woman’s daughter-in-law packing her meager belongings into her
suitcase flashed before her, and she heard herself demand, “You have no need of
me anymore? I gave you a year of my life! Your esposo…your husband promised he would help me enter America and
search for my uncle if I took care of his madre!”
Aware that the kindhearted
old woman had treated her as if she were her very own kin, her sorrow
increased. Yet knowing that her daughter-in-law had never visited the old woman
during their voyage, and was only there now because it was necessary, Naomi was
not surprised that this woman appeared unfazed by her charge’s death as she
dispassionately closed the lid to the teenager’s suitcase and stared at her.
Instead of demanding that the woman fetch a doctor, as Naomi had insisted an
hour ago when she fetched the woman, all she could think of was, What do I do, now what do I do? Then she
corrected herself, Naomi, it is not what
do you do…it is what can I do to convince them to let me stay? She watched
the woman eyeing her and wondered, Why is
she in a hurry to rid herself of me before the doctor examines Abuela Sosa and declares her dead? Only then
did she remember the woman’s secretive responses to an odd phone call that came
moments after she followed Naomi into the stateroom. Maybe the family discovered the last name I gave was not…she felt a
knot in her stomach and knew her worst fears were going to come true.
Trying to convince herself
that her situation was not as bad as it seemed, she silently insisted, This is a mistake! My entry into America
should have been easy. I took care of everything at the American Consulate
before we left Spain. My documents, medical history… I filled each paper out
very carefully!
Agitated, she opened her
eyes. She was alone. Aware of the stories of the chosen few allowed to enter
the country; she tried to think of anything but the future she feared. Now what? Now what? her mind repeated,
demanding an immediate answer. Think of something else, her mamá had often told her when she worried
too much. And now just as she had when her mother told her what to do, Naomi
nodded and whispered, “Sí, mi mamá.”
Scanning the room, she remembered reading that a fire had reduced the original
buildings to cinders and nonflammable materials were used when the facility was
rebuilt. It must have been an awful
fire…still…
She heard the door to the
office open, looked at the wall clock, and realized an hour had passed. An
official took the man they had interviewed away. The door was left open at
another man’s request. She leaned forward in her chair hoping to hear the men
she assumed would decide her fate.
“Sad that the grandmother
died,” the large man said, his voice filled with what she prayed was sympathy
for her plight.
The smaller man nodded. “And
just before the boat she was on was to enter the harbor.”
“The girl has no sponsor. We
must send her back to Spain.”
“But she says she has no
people,” replied a man she could not see.
“Sad yes, very sad…. but it’s
not our—”
Naomi thought it odd when the
small man stepped between the two who were speaking and blurted, “I tried to
call the lady but was told she was out!”
The large man waited while
the man she had not seen left the office. Then he turned to his associate. “I
told you not to speak about that!”
“It doesn’t make any
difference. I left a message, but there’s no one to help the girl.” He looked
at his watch. “It’s already five thirty. The office should have closed half an
hour ago.”
The large man sighed. “We
can’t wait any longer. Ask her to come in.”
Aware that she would be sent
back, the teenager muttered, “Oh, Adonai,
I cannot go back there!” When she heard her own words, she thought, Perhaps in America I should speak with Adonai
in English, so she pled, “Oh, God, please help me … I cannot go
back there!”
The old woman who sat down
while Naomi was speaking asked, “Would you like to stay in America?”
“Si!” Fearing the woman might not understand her, she switched to
English. “I mean, yes…yes, I would. I would love to stay.”
“I will arrange it for you.” Naomi
gasped. Maybe God is watching out for me
after all!
The
small man leaving the office caught Naomi’s eye, and motioned for her to enter.
When she stood, the old woman whispered as she rose. “Say nothing. Let me
talk.”
Glad to have someone who
offered to help her by her side, Naomi knew everything would be all right, for
she could even breathe again. Yet, upon facing the man, she saw him frown. She
noticed the lines on his face were deeply etched and feared he had never heard
of the word smile. Try as she might
to loosen the knot in her gut, fear raised its ugly head again, for she knew, this man has the power to send me back to a
life I wish never to see again. She forced a smile.
The man pointed toward the chairs
facing his desk. “Sit. We have very little time.”
He fixed his dark eyes on the
old woman. “Since you did not answer your phone, I thought you might be done
with this business.”
“You know how it is with me,”
Reaching into her oversized purse, she handed him a sheaf of papers.
“Sí, claro.” Victor replaced the girl’s official papers with the
ones the woman handed him. He seemed to smile with relief. “Still looking for
that special one, eh, Tía?”
“Of course.”
He reviewed the documents.
“You still use the same lawyer.”
“He helps me in my work.”
Victor turned toward Naomi.
“This lady will vouch for you so you can stay here.”
Naomi smiled at the old
woman. “Gracias.”
“So, you would you like to
stay in America?”
“Sí, that is why I came here.” She looked at the old woman. She looks just like mi tía Rosa, the same stark white hair, the same
small frame, the same dignity of bearing, the same edge to her voice, and, I am
certain, the same caring heart. Turning her attention back to Victor,
relief welled up in her chest. “Thank you” was all she could say because she
feared if she said more a slip might cause him to send her away.
Victor pulled out the
necessary forms and picked up his pen. “March twentieth, nineteen fifty-two is
an auspicious day for such a niña to
come to America and all by herself at that. What is your name, child?”
“Naomi Baruh.” He nodded and
wrote her name on the form. Watching his every move, Naomi was surprised when the
official did not question her about her last name, for she assumed that was why
she was there.
Victor asked the old woman
some questions and when the forms were completed, he used his official stamp to
legalize her documents. Once all was completed, he smiled at her and buzzed for
his secretary. When she arrived, he said, “Make copies for La Señora.” Turning
toward Naomi, the official smiled at her. “Now, Naomi, I would like to
introduce you to your sponsor. Your Tía, or as we Americans say, your auntie.
You are a fortunate girl. Do what she tells you and we will be happy that you
are staying with her.”
Aware that she had never
owned a promise as bright as the one America offered, Naomi exclaimed, “Sí…yes, I will!”
The copies returned, Naomi
watched the man check them over, place them in a legal binder, and handed it to
the old woman. “Here you are. Do not to lose them on your way home.” He nodded
toward Naomi.
When Tía nodded, Naomi
wondered if the two of them were speaking in some sort of secret language.
Before she could puzzle out what their exchange meant, Tía placed the binder in
her bag, stood, and motioned for her to do the same. “Do not worry; I will take
the precautions I always do.” Tía shook Victor’s hand and smiled at her. Victor’s
sigh sounded like a sigh of relief, and Naomi found herself wondering why both
of them seemed so…but before she could find out what was going on, Tía led her
out of the office.
The captain saw them, blew
the ferry’s whistle, and hollered, “Hurry up and get aboard!”
The old woman paid their
fare, thrust their tickets into the attendant’s hands, and rushed Naomi up the
gangplank. She pointed to the top deck. “Up there, you will be able to see
where you are coming from and where you are going to.” Scurrying up two flights
of stairs, Naomi waited for Tía, who joined her, and pointed toward Ellis
Island. “This was the port of entry for all who sought freedom. Now it is the
last hope for those the system will not let in. No matter what happens to you,
remember that this system did not win; at least not as far as you are
concerned.”
The horror of Ellis Island
diminished, as did Naomi’s fears. Entering the famed New York Harbor her uncle
had written about, Naomi turned, saw the city of New York with its skyscrapers,
and smiled. Though the wind whipped her hair into her face, nothing could mar
her joy, for this fifteen-year-old had traveled halfway around the world as a
servant, leaving all she loved, to fulfill her vow, which was about to be realized.
Clutching the rail, Naomi looked upon America, the land of freedom and opportunity,
for the first time. When the boat docked, all sorts of sights and sounds
assailed her, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of free air.
“Thank you, Adonai,” she whispered.
The wind blew her prayer of gratitude past her sponsor’s ear and out to sea.
With a wide grin on her face,
she opened her eyes. Before she could see much of the goings-on at dockside,
the old woman grabbed her hand. “Look…look,” she called as she pulled the girl
along, “if we do not hurry, we will need to wait an hour and…” Naomi saw the
bus doors close while they ran toward it. She thought the old woman would slow
her pace. Instead, she doubled it, and upon reaching the bus, Tía pounded on
the doors with her umbrella. “Stop! Open the door and let us in!”
“Sorry,” the bus driver drawled
as he opened the door. “I was about to leave. With the motor going, I couldn’t
hear you.” He nodded toward an elderly woman who sat on the bench seat behind
him. “If it hadn’t been for this lady here, I would’ve driven off without you
and the girl.”
"It is lucky for me that you
have a passenger who pays attention!” Tía’s voice was so strident that Naomi
looked at her. Noticing the withering gaze, she unleashed upon the man, she was
grateful her sponsor was not angry with her. The coins made a clanking sound as
the old woman took her hand. When they walked past the woman the bus driver had
mentioned, Naomi heard the old tía
say, “Thank you, Teresa, mi amiga.”
Those tenderly spoken words calmed Naomi’s fears.
Hurrying them to the back of
the bus, Naomi sat where the old tía
pointed and asked, “Where are we going?”
“Home to mi casa.” She fiddled with something under the dolman sleeve of her
coat as she coaxed, “Relax, I will let you know when we are there.” Naomi
watched the bus weave in and out of dense traffic. The old tía noticed her curiosity. “I am taking you to Spanish Harlem. Most
of the people who live in New York shorten the name. They call it Harlem, but
we Spanish settled and named the place, so we call it by its full name that
honors us and our presence there. Although other groups settled there and many
Spanish people have moved, it is still, in my opinion, the center of Spanish
life.” Since she did not understand how each ethnic group in the city
differentiated themselves, nor did she care, Naomi said nothing. Her only
concern was to see where they were going should she need to flee, so she
watched the road. As the miles ticked by, she thought about the procedure at immigration
and realized the man had given her no card of any sort. Since her uncle had
written that everyone needed one, Naomi began to worry. The old woman pointed
to a building. “See, there is Zabar’s, my favorite place for sweets.” Naomi
looked where her sponsor pointed and told herself, She is nice. No reason to worry. She turned to look at the road and
tried to get her bearings as the city rushed by. At each stop, she looked at
the old woman questioningly. “We are almost there.”
“Good.” Naomi smiled, eager
to forget the events that forced her to accept the old woman’s help. “I want to
begin my life here as soon as possible.”
“You all say that.”
“What do you mean? And what
was that man at immigration referring to when he asked you if you were not done
with this business yet?” Being stared at by the woman she thought of as her
heroine, Naomi’s concerns about her lack of a card and the mysterious
discussion between Victor and the old tía
escalated.
“We can talk of this once we
get to mi casa.” When Naomi did not
respond, her sponsor turned to pat her hand. Glimpsing a manacle around Tía’s
wrist, Naomi knew she must flee and began to stand. Aware of what the girl was
doing, the old woman grabbed her hand in a vice-like grip, pulled her into her
seat, and handcuffed their wrists together. Fear sized her. Naomi froze. Her heartbeat
so fast, Naomi feared she would pass out. Yet she knew she could not give into
that, for she had to do something before it was… Opening her mouth to scream,
Naomi realized, No one would do this to
someone who is here legally. If you scream, you will end up back at immigration
and you will be deported. Trapped, she clamped her mouth shut lest by
uttering a word… When the lady sitting behind her asked her a question, she
shook her head, and tried to look relaxed.
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