the girls danced to the tune:
“I want the messiah, now!”
Leah Bloch informed Hannah about Mila and Atara not partaking in the forbidden celebration. Zalman called the girls into his study. He looked at one then the other; he smiled. “Nu?” Every afternoon that week, he taught them to sing in harmony a passage from the Days of Awe services, a difficult prayer tune he had been teaching the boys who would accompany him in synagogue, but Mila and Atara had fine voices even if they could not sing in public, not in front of men. Mila was not yet twelve so she could sing in front of Zalman despite not being his daughter.
*
E AGER to assume responsibilities beyond tutoring the girls, Leah Bloch ran errands for Hannah and took the children to the park. When Leah Bloch held the hands of the younger siblings, Mila and Atara could sprint ahead, over the arcing bridges, to the gold-tipped arrows of the Luxembourg’s gates.
And so it was that one radiant Sabbath afternoon, Mila and Atara entered the gardens alone. Giddy leaves peeked out of every bud, on every tree.
The girls dashed forward.
“Aha!” the combed gravel let out.
The rusticated columns of the Palais du Luxembourg folded inside the pond’s ripples, swirled around the fountain, vanished into droplets of water-sun—
“Atara! Mila!”
Across the terrace, straddling her bicycle, the girls’ new playground friend, Nathalie, waved. “You want it for a lap?” she yelled.
Mila and Atara ran to the bicycle. Mila straddled the frame; Atara perched on the rear rack.
“One lap only!” Nathalie called after them.
Mila’s right foot weighed down on the pedal, the left foot weighed down. The spokes cast their spinning shadows as the bike overtook the toy sails in the pond. Mila leaned into a curve; Atara clasped Mila’s waist. Mila pedaled faster; Atara’s arms flew up. Mila slowed by the sandpit where toddlers rapped each other’s heads with plastic spades—on a bicycle,even decelerating was a thrill. Mila’s shoe slipped on the pedal and the bicycle tipped to one side; Atara leaned to the other side and the bike regained its enchanted balance.
The other shoe slipped on the pedal, the leather sole of Mila’s black patent Sabbath shoe—
Surely there had been no bicycles on Mount Sinai, Atara thought. Had there been one, then riding it would never have been forbidden on the day of rest, because it wasn’t work at all and one was meant to rejoice on the Sabbath—“My turn now!” Atara called.
Mila slowed and the girls switched positions. Atara stood up on the pedals. Flowers and hedges blurred past as she accelerated. Children’s cries speckled the air, soared with the swings, bounced on the slide’s hump—
A shriek.
Tearing across the lawn, Leah Bloch, followed by the toddlers.
Atara braked. The back wheel skidded.
“Sabbath!” Leah Bloch screamed with all her might.
Mila and Atara tumbled off the bicycle before it fully stopped.
“You’re still touching it!” Leah Bloch cried out.
Atara let go of the bike, which fell to the ground.
“Sabbath!” Leah Bloch let out again. “You must tell your father, you must tell him what you did on the Sabbath.”
Mila remembered that if Jews kept
one
Sabbath only, if they kept one Sabbath perfectly, the messiah would come andher parents would live again. She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Atara went to look for Nathalie while the bike lay on the gravel. Atara tried to explain: No, she had not fallen off the bike, no, neither Mila nor she was hurt, no, she could not bring the bike back—she could not
touch
it.
Mila and Atara left the Luxembourg through a gate they had not taken before. Would Zalman find out? Someone from the congregation might have seen the new rabbi’s children transgressing the Sabbath.… Would Leah Bloch tell? A sibling? The girls wandered along the quays, far, until hoarse seagull calls carved the setting sun. They reasoned that eight and seven was too young to run
“I want the messiah, now!”
Leah Bloch informed Hannah about Mila and Atara not partaking in the forbidden celebration. Zalman called the girls into his study. He looked at one then the other; he smiled. “Nu?” Every afternoon that week, he taught them to sing in harmony a passage from the Days of Awe services, a difficult prayer tune he had been teaching the boys who would accompany him in synagogue, but Mila and Atara had fine voices even if they could not sing in public, not in front of men. Mila was not yet twelve so she could sing in front of Zalman despite not being his daughter.
*
E AGER to assume responsibilities beyond tutoring the girls, Leah Bloch ran errands for Hannah and took the children to the park. When Leah Bloch held the hands of the younger siblings, Mila and Atara could sprint ahead, over the arcing bridges, to the gold-tipped arrows of the Luxembourg’s gates.
And so it was that one radiant Sabbath afternoon, Mila and Atara entered the gardens alone. Giddy leaves peeked out of every bud, on every tree.
The girls dashed forward.
“Aha!” the combed gravel let out.
The rusticated columns of the Palais du Luxembourg folded inside the pond’s ripples, swirled around the fountain, vanished into droplets of water-sun—
“Atara! Mila!”
Across the terrace, straddling her bicycle, the girls’ new playground friend, Nathalie, waved. “You want it for a lap?” she yelled.
Mila and Atara ran to the bicycle. Mila straddled the frame; Atara perched on the rear rack.
“One lap only!” Nathalie called after them.
Mila’s right foot weighed down on the pedal, the left foot weighed down. The spokes cast their spinning shadows as the bike overtook the toy sails in the pond. Mila leaned into a curve; Atara clasped Mila’s waist. Mila pedaled faster; Atara’s arms flew up. Mila slowed by the sandpit where toddlers rapped each other’s heads with plastic spades—on a bicycle,even decelerating was a thrill. Mila’s shoe slipped on the pedal and the bicycle tipped to one side; Atara leaned to the other side and the bike regained its enchanted balance.
The other shoe slipped on the pedal, the leather sole of Mila’s black patent Sabbath shoe—
Surely there had been no bicycles on Mount Sinai, Atara thought. Had there been one, then riding it would never have been forbidden on the day of rest, because it wasn’t work at all and one was meant to rejoice on the Sabbath—“My turn now!” Atara called.
Mila slowed and the girls switched positions. Atara stood up on the pedals. Flowers and hedges blurred past as she accelerated. Children’s cries speckled the air, soared with the swings, bounced on the slide’s hump—
A shriek.
Tearing across the lawn, Leah Bloch, followed by the toddlers.
Atara braked. The back wheel skidded.
“Sabbath!” Leah Bloch screamed with all her might.
Mila and Atara tumbled off the bicycle before it fully stopped.
“You’re still touching it!” Leah Bloch cried out.
Atara let go of the bike, which fell to the ground.
“Sabbath!” Leah Bloch let out again. “You must tell your father, you must tell him what you did on the Sabbath.”
Mila remembered that if Jews kept
one
Sabbath only, if they kept one Sabbath perfectly, the messiah would come andher parents would live again. She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Atara went to look for Nathalie while the bike lay on the gravel. Atara tried to explain: No, she had not fallen off the bike, no, neither Mila nor she was hurt, no, she could not bring the bike back—she could not
touch
it.
Mila and Atara left the Luxembourg through a gate they had not taken before. Would Zalman find out? Someone from the congregation might have seen the new rabbi’s children transgressing the Sabbath.… Would Leah Bloch tell? A sibling? The girls wandered along the quays, far, until hoarse seagull calls carved the setting sun. They reasoned that eight and seven was too young to run
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