The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah by Nora Raleigh Baskin Read Free Book Online Page A

four sisters, she told me they had been very poor.
    My grandmother had the usual stories about sharing a bed, sharing clothes, shoes with worn soles. No meat for dinner. Sometimes no dinner.
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    Oh, c’mon, Nana.
    You want to listen or you want to ask questions?
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    She told me she had no toys, no games, no dolls.
    And one day she was out with her mother doing errands. She must have been very young, four or five years old.
    â€œWait here, Freidaleh,” her mother said to her. “I am going into the butcher shop. Wait right here and don’t move.”
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    Freidaleh? But your name is Freida, isn’t it? Everyone calls you Freddie.
    Yes, but not then. My mother added that to all our names. She called my sister Bea, Berthaleh. She called my sister Min, Mineleh.
    Like shayna maideleh? I asked.
    Exactly.
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    For a long time, Freida did as her mother told her. She waited on the street. She had watched her mother disappear into the shop, and she waited. She leaned against the building behind her. She looked down at the patches in her dress and the holes worn into her shoes, and that’s when she noticed a big store directly across the street.
    She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. She had been to this street many, many times. Maybe because she was so little and the crowd was so thick and the people were so tall. But she saw it now. A wide glass window, and inside were shelves and shelves of toys. Freida had never had a new toy of her own.
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    You’ve told me that story before, Nana.
    What story?
    About how you never had any toys, no presents. No dolls.
    It’s no story. It’s true.
    Well, you’ve told me it before.
    So now I’m telling you again. Do you want to hear the story or not?
    I do.
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    Freida was like a little pony, stamping her feet, trying to stay still to do as her mother had told her. But as she watched, a beautiful young woman holding the hand of her young daughter entered the huge toy store. Freida couldn’t stand it any longer. The little daughter looked to be about Freida’s age, but that’s where the similarity ended. This little girl was wearing a hat, a beautiful straw hat with a ribbon, and white gloves. Her dress was clean and had no patches. Her shoes were new. Her socks were starched white and they were about to disappear out of Freida’s sight.
    Freida darted out across the street and got to the window just in time to see the little girl and her beautiful mother walk inside the store, still holding hands.
    Freida pressed her face against the glass and watched them. They walked up and down the aisles, the little girl smiling and pointing to everything. Then finally they seemed to have made a decision. Freida watched as the mother reached up to take down a doll from the top shelf. The doll looked almost identical to the little girl herself. The straw hat, the white dress and socks. When the mother stretched her arm up, the strap of her pocketbook slid off her shoulder. She handed the doll to her daughter, readjusted her strap, and for a while Freida couldn’t see them anymore.
    The street was busy with cars. People passed by in both directions. Freida turned back and looked toward the butcher shop to see if her mother had come out yet.
    I should go back, she thought to herself. My mother will be worried.
    Just then the beautiful mother and the little girl with the hat, now holding her new doll, strolled out of the store. They turned right and began to walk in Freida’s direction. For a moment, the two girls were face to face.
    Eye to eye. Toe to toe.
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    Oh no, Nana. Did you take her doll?
    Of course not.
    Then what? What happened? Something must have happened.
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    The little girl stopped when she saw Freida. She clutched her doll even more tightly in her arms and stuck out her tongue, which proved to be more than Freida could possibly take. Right in front of the mother, and in the presence of all of