Illumination
Staci Stanton
Elie closed the door to his third-floor apartment and began making his way down the stairs, careful to avoid those steps that were cracked or that had begun to crumble. Unlike his neighbors, he didn’t complain about the safety hazards such as the unstable steps, the unsanitary conditions which included the rampant rat infestation, or the faulty utilities that rarely afforded the tenants hot water or heat. He felt fortunate to live in what was considered the lowest of hovels in New York City, something the other inhabitants would never be able to comprehend. Plus, this was only a temporary living space as he planned to go to one of the universities and would likely live on campus or in an apartment nearby.
He nodded to Mrs. Johnson as they passed on the stairs. An African-American woman and mother of four young boys, she had lost her husband in the War and now had to work three jobs in order to afford an apartment that only supplied cold water and no heat. When he had first met the woman, he had assumed she was in her forties. Later, he had been shocked to discover she was only twenty-eight years old.
Reaching the bottom, Elie pushed open the front door. A harsh January wind ruffled his dark hair, causing him to pull his thin tweed coat tighter as he set off for work seven blocks away. The sights on his way had become one of the few pleasant images in his memory since he had begun working at the bakery nearly a year ago. He most enjoyed the sounds of the young children playing in the small park a couple of blocks down from his building. The Johnson boys could often be seen chasing and shouting at each other. The oldest—he thought his name was Jason—often stood back watching, as if he were monitoring or even protecting his younger siblings.
Today Elie searched the playground for the boy’s bright yellow jacket. Spotting it, he waved when Jason turned and looked in his direction. His white teeth, minus a front tooth he had lost a few days ago, shone brightly as the boy smiled and raised his hand in response. As he continued down the street, he heard him admonish one of his brothers who had made another cry.
His eyes had begun to water at the sharp bite in the air so it was with relief when he finally reached the door of the bakery. Warm air and the scent of a variety of pastries and breads rushed to greet him. When he had come to New York, he had been a bit overwhelmed as to where to start. But deciding where to work had not been a difficult decision. Being in proximity at all times to food had been a comfort in this strange city as well as a shield against the reminder of a time not so long ago when he had seen people sacrifice their pride—or a parent—in order to eat and thus survive for a little while longer. He had to remind himself that he was more than just a body, but he still remembered when his “stomach alone was aware of the passage of time” (50).
Shaking his head and stamping his snow-damp shoes at the same time, he hoped to chase away the dark thoughts. Elie greeted Robert, the owner of the bakery as he made his way to the back room to remove his coat and don his white apron. Since so many of the sweet treats had been baked much earlier, there were already empty trays resting on empty carts. But the sweet smell of yeast still lingered in the air.
He genuinely enjoyed his job, though others would complain that the pay was hardly sufficient to support oneself. He enjoyed Robert and his customers’ company, and he was always able to immediately satisfy any sudden hunger that struck him. The first time Robert had seen him take a muffin from the case and slowly devour it, the large Italian man had been ready to fire him on the spot. After explaining that he had been too hungry to ask and pay for the food first, Robert had calmed down and warned him not to make it a habit. Elie had promised that he would try. A look of comprehension had passed in the bakery manager’s eyes and he never brought up the subject again.
Returning to the front to serve the customers who had come in to grab a bagel or muffin for breakfast before heading to work, he chatted with Mr. Rosenbaum and inquired as to how his nephew was doing. The older man proudly replied he had been accepted to Harvard to study law. He played hide-and-seek through the case with a young girl who hid behind her mother’s legs as she ordered their breakfast. Elie’s smile widened when he heard her shy giggle.
His mouth trembled nervously, however, when his eyes locked with a young, blonde and blue-eyed woman. Her name was Sarah and she often stopped at the bakery on her way to work, always giving her order with a gentle smile. His hands shook slightly as he counted her change into her palm. She thanked him, and he watched her turn around and walk out the door.
He turned and caught the smirk of another employee, Joe Schwartz, who stood a few feet away with his arm propped on the handle of a mop.
“That’s a gorgeous girl, huh?” When Elie didn’t reply, Joe continued. “Beautiful blonde hair, sky-blue eyes. Quite different from us, wouldn’t you say?”
Elie turned back to the window and searched the crowd, but he knew that the young woman was beyond the reach of his gaze.
Later that evening, Elie was making the way back to his apartment. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and cold bits of snow drifted in front of his face. Every now and then, a strong burst of wind sent the icy particles into his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. He hunched his shoulders and walked with his head down, glancing up often to make sure there wasn’t anyone or anything blocking his path.
With just a block left, he stopped when he heard trash cans being knocked over and an angry voice shouting. When a light came on behind a small, run-down house, he saw an overweight man with a dirty-white shirt stomp down the steps towards a fence lining the back of the yard. Squinting, he could make out a small dog cowering next to the trash cans. The man marched right up to the frightened and freezing animal and shook his fists. Drawing back a boot-clad foot, he sent a swift kick to its middle. The dog immediately yelped and lay even lower to the ground. The man kicked one of the trash cans before stomping back up the steps and slamming the door.
Elie stood watching the skinny dog. He could hear it rustling in the trash, no doubt searching for food. Pulling his left hand out of his pocket, he withdrew his supper, a thick loaf of bread. Glancing up and down the street, he crossed over to the house and called to the dog, but it only skulked behind the trash can and growled. He looked down at the food in his hand for a moment. Unwrapping the paper, he broke the bread in half and threw the larger piece to the dog. At first suspicious, the animal only sniffed it. Then it gave the food a cautious lick, glancing back up at Elie before slowly grabbing it with its teeth and curling up on the ground. Elie watched it quickly swallow what had been most of his supper.
He hurried the last few steps to his apartment and climbed the stairs to his quiet and dark apartment. Once he had unlocked the door, he turned on the light which flickered several times before finally shedding a weak glow and dark shadows. His apartment was almost completely bare. There were no photographs or pictures on the walls. They had been left behind or lost or stolen when . . . when he and his family had been uprooted. Sighing as his gaze only took in nothingness, he realized “there was nothing else to do but to get into bed . . . to gather one’s strength” (18).
He had a disturbed and restless sleep that night.
The next day at the bakery he had trouble following the conversations of his customers, and only managed to nod at them. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the familiar blonde head walk through the door. He quickly considered ignoring her, hoping that Robert would handle this customer. Pretending to drop something in order to stoop down out of sight, he looked up and tried to trace Sarah’s progress through the glass case. Instead, he stared straight into the blue eyes of the young girl he had played the game with just yesterday. With her thumb stuck in her mouth and the hint of a smile forming at the corners, it was obvious she thought this was a new game. Elie didn’t think he could summon the energy or joy to entertain the child. But as soon as he saw her lips tremble and eyes dim, he made a goofy face, causing a dimple to form on each cheek.
He stood up when she left with her mother and encountered Sarah standing directly across from him. Elie swallowed and smiled into her expectant face. She turned to leave with her order, but as she reached the door, she did something she had never done before—she turned around and caught him watching her. And smiled. Elie blushed and her smile widened. She lifted a hand in farewell and walked out the door.
As he turned around, he caught Joe’s disapproving glance. He nearly turned around but reconsidered. He stared the other young man in the eye until Joe nodded and looked away.
That night as Elie lay in bed, he fell into a deep sleep filled with dreams.