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PARTISAN REVIEW
food that I could not refuse - morality tales that she read aloud from
religious calendars.
She particularly loved the story of a girl invited to a restaurant
by two wicked men. There they had slipped sleeping pills into her
beer, and when she was unconscious, they had raped her. Somehow
the publication made the situation clear without offending innocent
readers . This story was a thriller for Aunt Aniela; she feared this
fate could befall me . I assured her that I did not meet men , did not
frequent restaurants, and hated beer. I could admit this with a clear
conscience since I did not then have male acquaintances , did not go
to restaurants, and I had never cared for beer.
In our 9' x 12' room were two beds with straw mattresses. My
few belongings hung on one wall. (My better clothes, a few things I
had received from my friends in the ghetto , I had left with Mrs.
Uklejska since they were too good for a poor girl from the coun–
tryside.) Aniela's Sunday black skirt and crimson blouse hung on the
opposite wall. Under her bed was a cardboard box in which she kept
her festive dress - the outfit she would wear in her coffin; she showed
it to me more than once with innocent pride. Between the beds stood
a small iron stove called for some unknown reason a "nanny goat. "
It
would have warmed us if we had had enough coal, but the amount
received from Catholic Charities was barely enough to heat the soup
on its only burner. We both suffered from the cold. Nevertheless, I
could not give up the strange habit of my former life-washing
myself daily. Miss Aniela could not understand; she was shocked at
the sight of my naked body. Why must I scrl,lb all over? Such a prac–
tice suggested women of easy virtue. And I was such a decent,
honest girl. Finally, love overcame prejudice, and she began to fetch
me a pot of warm water each evening from a neighbor. I used a
small basin. She did not mind my splashing water on the floor.
After the bath it was time for evening prayers. Every good
Catholic prayed before bedtime. When Aunt Aniela knelt to pray, I
would jump into bed . She did not like this at all.
"Dear child," she would say. "Every creature praises God. The
cow moos, 'moo-moo,' and praises God. The bird twitters, 'tschwirr–
tschwirr,' and praises God . And you, my bad girl, you do not want
to do it?"
I would explain that it was cold and I would pray in bed. She
did not approve , but she indulged my whim.
I was getting used to my new personality. Now when I think
about life at Aunt Aniela's I can't remember whether I thought of it
