off stage.” Vipond nodded. He took another bite of cheese and stared off into the distance, seeing the curtain calls of Paris.
“How were our mother and father?” Moses asked.
“Well, they missed you, but this place was nicer than their first lodgings. It’s more comfortable here, and they could work at the theater. You should’ve seen your father’s smile. His face lit up at every performance. He truly looked younger than when they first got here. Your mother was glad to see him happy again, but they missed you two so much . . . Every afternoon we would sit and talk for a while over tea. They would tell me all about your young adventures, the messes you got yourselves in, the silly or clever things you would say. You’re embedded deep in their hearts, boys. You’re very lucky. Most mothers love their children, but your mother couldn’t live without you. The day your father told her they’d gotten their papers, she wept and wept. I said goodbye at the door of this building. She was wearing a lovely pink suit and black shoes and carrying a matching black bag. She looked like a movie star—but not in her eyes. They were sunken and sad, melancholic. Those eyes searched for you everywhere, hoping you’d magically show up somehow. It’s as though she knew you were on your way.”
The boys were sad again. The food had calmed their raging appetites, but their souls needed the nourishment only found in a mother’s arms. Moses closed his eyes and tried to envision her in that pretty pink suit. The sun was shining on her, as if she were strutting down a fashion catwalk in Paris.
Their sadness was not lost on Vipond. Gathering up the dishes, he said, “You’d better get some rest. This old man’s stories only bring sadness.”
Jacob and Moses excused themselves from the table, and Vipond led them to their room. There was a nice double bed and a window in the roof that sloped all the way down to the floor.
“I trust you’ll sleep well tonight. I’m sure your parents, wherever they are, are watching over you.” Their host gently closed the door.
As soon as they were alone, Jacob went to the lamp on the nightstand. Moses was glued to him, as if he needed physical contact before hearing their parents’ words.
Jacob’s eyes rested on the elongated letters and quick script of his mother’s writing. In the combination of signs he recognized a harmony that went beyond the simple meanings of the words. The cramped, quick writing looked like their mother’s heart spilling over onto the page, an inexhaustible torrent of love.
Moses tugged at Jacob’s sleeve, impatient.
“All right, all right,” Jacob said. He drew out the moment because the abyss opening before them was greater than the comfort any letter could give.
My dear boys,
One of the first things we learn in life is that we have almost no control over our actions. Time goes quickly, and it feels like existence slips away from us, out of control and sometimes cruel. Meanwhile we’re just trying to be happy.
I’ve been thinking about writing you for so long, but I don’t know how to explain what compels us to go farther away from you. Sometimes love and hope have to separate in order to live in the same heart.
Aunt Judith already knows that we’re planning to leave, that we hope to see you soon, that we are trying to have you join us as soon as possible. The world is pointless without you two. When you were born, I ceased to belong to myself. I became a slave to the feelings I have for you. You are my air, the sun that lights my morning, and the only place I want to come home to.
Your father loves you deeply, more than he loves his work, even more than he loves me, though he’s given up so much for me. Every day I look for ways to shorten this trip and bring this dismal separation to a very quick end.
Judith will give you the details. In a few days we’re heading for Argentina. Our boat is called the Esmeralda, and it will take a few weeks to reach Buenos Aires. We’ll stop at a few ports before docking in Argentina. I’ll try to write you from each stop. Your father is working on the papers for us to send for you as soon as we find work there. Meanwhile, don’t worry about us. Aunt