“Well,” Papa said, looking from me to Elka, a small smile playing on his face as he watched us take it all in, “what do you think?”

“It’s…” I looked at the tools lying on the work table, the finished chairs and half-finished table lying on its side, and slowly took a step toward them. Almost on its own, my hand reached toward the table. But before I could do so much as stroke the handle of any of the tools, I felt a hand pressing down on my shoulder and I quickly pulled back.

“Don’t—” Papa started to say, but then he quickly stopped himself, looking at me strangely. “Did you want to see the tools I use?” he asked. Then, suddenly, he smiled. “You’re really getting big, Dovid. When I was your age, I used to help my Papa in his shop. Of course, I had a lot more experience with these tools. But there is no reason I can’t show you.”

I looked at him eagerly. “Really? You’ll let me help?”

“Help?” Papa shook his head in thought. “We’ll see. I have bigger dreams for you, Dovid. Dreams as big as my father’s were for me. But I can teach you a little.”

I looked over at Elka, grinning, my mind full of the things I might make if Papa would just teach me. Like a desk. Or a chair. Or maybe even a cradle for Leiba’la’s doll that she schlepped across the world with her. But Elka didn’t seem to have heard. Instead, she was staring at the corner of the room, eyes big and wide, terrified.

“Elka?” I asked. What was wrong? Why was she so, so scared?

Papa looked around at her, too. At first, he looked confused, just like I was, but then a smile crossed his face once again, and he reached toward Elka’s face. “Don’t worry,” he said, stroking her cheek, “he’s a nice man. How about I introduce you?”

Man? I looked towards the corner where Elka had been staring. And now it was my turn for my heart to catch on my ribs. Who was that?

Elka

My heart was pounding so hard, I couldn’t believe Papa and Dovid could talk so long without hearing it. I wanted to scream. To grab Papa and hide my face against him, but I couldn’t make a sound. And then, finally, someone noticed. Papa turned around and started to laugh. Laugh! There’s a scary Arab man sitting in the corner of your store and you laugh?

But then he reached down and stroked my cheek and I could tell that it was okay. Maybe this man wasn’t so scary after all. I looked at Papa, the fear still making my heart race.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’s a nice man.”

That was when the man looked up from the piece of wood he had been working on.

“Akeem,” Papa said, nodding at the man. He switched to a different language. Maybe Arabic? I tried to listen to see if I could hear any of the words I‘d learned from the teacher who taught us Hebrew in my old school, but I didn’t hear any, so probably this was Arabic.

The man stood up and started coming toward us. I moved a little closer to Papa, trying not to let Dovid see. If he noticed I was scared, I’d probably never get to the shop without Dovid calling me a scaredy cat.

“This is Akeem,” Papa finally said, looking at Dovid and me, “he helps me in the shop. You’ll see — over time you’ll get to know him.”

Dovid was looking at Akeem, a small glint forming in his eye. I knew that look. That meant Dovid had something planned.

“Papa,” I whispered, “You — you work with an Arab?”

“You don’t have to whisper, Elka.” Dovid laughed. “He doesn’t know any Yiddish. He won’t understand a word you say, anyway. Right, Papa?”

Papa nodded. “But try out your Hebrew, Dovid. Let’s see if you can make yourself understood.”

“Um…” The glint in Dovid’s eye faded a little.

This I was ready to see. Dovid making a fool out of himself trying to speak Hebrew. Ha, ha. He’d been bragging the whole trip that he knew Hebrew and wouldn’t have any problems in his new cheder. Well, now he would have to prove it.

Dovid took a step forward, and I could see that he knew I was watching, that he might just be shown up. And then, without a pause, Dovid stepped up to the Arab, stuck out his hand and said, “Shalom.” He shook the man’s hand and nodded confidently, smiling. Once the Arab had let go, he stepped back to Papa, pleased.

Papa smiled at Dovid, then continued talking to Akeem for a few more moments before turning back to Dovid and me. “Okay,” he said to us, “I think we’ve been gone long enough. Time to go home to Mama.” He called a goodbye to Akeem and turned to open the door behind us.

“You see,” Dovid said, the moment we were outside in the sunlight, “I can manage just fine in Hebrew — just like I told you.”

“Yeah, well,” I shot back, “one word. Great. How are you going to understand anything in cheder? You’re just going to say ‘shalom’ all day long?”

“Let’s see how well you do,” Dovid replied, quickening his pace. “You didn’t even try to talk to Akeem.”

For a second I just looked at him. Dovid was right. I would have to go to school, too. Would I have anyone to talk to?

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 900)