By Hannah OB.

"Shah Louie. Shah! You'll wake Esther. Not a minute she slept last night. She woke up twice, shivering, hot with fever. I gave her an alcohol bath and told her stories of the old life in Antapolyo until she fell asleep. She insisted on fasting this year, even though I told her she was too skinny. I told her that God didn't need skinny little girls to fast, but did she listen? Does she ever listen? And now she has a fever."

"Mama," Louie interrupted Idaâs of chatter."Yesterday there was hardly a moment to speak to her what with closing up the deli, washing and putting away in time for Kol Nidre. I never see Esther. Iâm always back and forth from Brooklyn for school. I leave too early in the morning and I get home too late. Today I am home. No school. Nothing for me to do running around in the ward. And you say sheâs asleep. We're praying all day... let me just go just say hello to her now..." A creaking door-- the sound of feet on the wooden floor, almost flying through the mid parlor into the front room of the five room railroad flat and Esther was there, pale and damp with sweat but smiling at her older brother. "Esther!" suddenly turning, Louie grabbed his little sister by the waste and swung her in the air. "Wow! You're growing. I don't think I can do this anymore."

Esther giggled and looked down at her unshapely body. At twelve, Esther was all legs, as her father Elya liked to say, and washboard thin. Louie, eight years older, tall and strong from hours of work each day in the store and with the other regulars in his local democratic club, doing whatever was needed to make things in the ward run smoothly, would have had no trouble lifting a horse, let alone a rail thin child, but it pleased Esther to think that she was growing too large for her brother to lift.

"Louie," Esther spoke quickly and excitedly,"I'm fasting this year. I didn't get to tell you yesterday. I haven't eaten at all and I'm not even hungry!"

"Hush Esther," her mother Ida admonished," You sound too boastful, too full of yourself. A young girl should not be so proud. Today we are atoning for our sins so that Hashem will write us down for a good year in the book of life." Esther moved to respond when she heard a rustling in the other room.

"That will be your father and Archie," Esther's mother commented. "Go get dressed Estherke. It's not that early anymore. We have to be at synagogue in about an hour, so don't dawdle like you usually do." Esther paused at the doorway, giving her father a hug and receiving a pat from Archie. At twenty-four, Archie, Esther and Louie's eldest brother had little to do with Esther. He had just finished Brooklyn Law school early that summer and now spent long days working in an office on Lafayette Street. He patted her as he would a sweet puppy, glancing at her to give her a brief smile. It was Archieâs way. He had trouble being warm. Those who watched him grow up, like Mr. Featherstone and Mr. Coonan, who lived around the corner on 98th street would come in to the deli everyday for an early dinner, They would put their guns on the table and talk business. Everyday Esther would stop at their table to say hello when she came home after Hebrew School. Everyday they would tell her the same thing: ãArchie we cant trust. He thinks heâs better than us. Heâs always so cold, so unfriendly. But you, little Esther, you become a lawyer and weâll give you all of our business.ä

Esther gave her father a big hug. ãIâm fasting Papa! Did I tell you?ä

Elya looked over Estherâs head to Ida. ãWhat is this Ida? This little bird, not even 13, and she is fasting? Who puts such nerishkeit into her head? She has no need to fast, Let her sit with the other children and women while we pray for a good and healthy year. Better she should be healthy than get sick. Such ideas, that she should fast. Her keppela3 is as empty as her stomach.ä He said this sternly, but when he glanced down at Estherâs face and saw her downcast expression, he laughed. ãEstherke, if you want to fast, who am I to tell you not to? Youâll make yourself sick.... If it makes you happy though, please, keep fasting.ä

Esther skipped happily through her railway flat apartment to her room- the second to last room of the apartment. Her room, small and dark, had one window which looked out onto the air shaft between her building and the next. In the other building, across from her room and one story down she could see her friend Antonia Benano's window. Her curtains were drawn. Antonia and her family were not Jewish and did not have to go to synagogue. Her two uncles, the Verro brothers, both young and single, owned the barber shop directly beneath Esther's apartment, right next door to Esther's family's kosher delicatessen. The Verro brothers had been in the neighborhood a long time, since before Ida and Elya had sold their candy store on Madison street and made the move from the Lower East Side with their two boys.

As she pulled her long brown skirt over her wool stockings Esther sighed. It was late September and still as warm as it had been all summer. But Esther's mother Ida had a rule: once Rosh Hashana passed, the wool stockings were pulled out from the back of the drawer where Esther stuffed them every year in the hopes that they would be lost or disappear, or that the moths would find them and leave them full of holes. This never happened, though, because each year, the week after Passover, when Esther was allowed to remove her stockings and wear only knee socks, Ida scrubbed the entire apartment, removed all clothing from the drawer, hand scrubbed, line-dried and folded all the clothes and sprinkled camphor balls everywhere.

Esther did not look forward to sitting in synagogue all day in sweltering heat. She could already feel each item of clothing she had on sticking to her front and back. Quickly and skillfully she braided her long, dark hair and wound it around her head. She didn't want any extra weight on her body. Finally, she pulled on white canvas shoes over her wool-stockinged feet-- no leather on Yom Kippur.

Esther left her room and walked through the dark hallway into her parentsâ room. Settling on the bed, she watched her them dress. Her father, his graying hair slicked and combed, his moustache recently waxed, slung his creamy tallis over his shoulders. During services, Esther would look down at her father, sitting with the other men in the lower part of the sanctuary, and imagine playing with the tassels on his tallis. She could see herself braiding some strands while running other silky threads through her fingers.

"Ay, Esther. Such a dreamer--always with her heads in the clouds." Esther looked up at her mother Ida, who now stood in the doorway looking both lovingly and reproachfully at her daughter. As always, even when working twelve hour days in the kitchen or behind the counter of the delicatessen, she looked pressed and neat. Her sheitel sat jauntily but still dignified on her head and shrouded her face in gray lace. Later, during services, Esther would sit quietly with her mother in the upper sanctuary with the other women, and read the Hebrew prayers she had seen many times before. Sometimes she would peer over the railing, trying to catch Louie's eye below, but her mother would pull her back and say in a stern whisper, "Esther! Sit down! I don't want you falling over the edge."

Though the services were long, Esther loved the High Holy Days. Her father Elya owned a Deli in which he and Esther's mother Ida worked every day of the week, from dawn, when they served busy laborers hoping to make an extra penny by getting to the job an hour or two early, until dusk, when workers would come home on the El, anxious for a spicy pastrami sandwich on homemade rye bread, a steaming mug of soup, a cold Rhinegold and a comfortable place to sit and chat.

Esther ran ahead of her family on the way to the synagogue. As she ran under the platform of the 99th street El right just outside the entrance to her building, Elya shouted after her,"Esther, slow down. We can all walk together as a family today." Esther felt giddy. Every other year, before this one, Ida had insisted she take a small bag of fruit with her to eat secretly in the synagogue because the family stayed all day and Ida was worried that Esther would get hungry. Last year Esther had brought with her a small bag of Italian plums. She remembered going to the basement of the synagogue, into a small room behind the bathrooms. The room had a window which looked out onto the garden of the Hebrew Home for the aged. The stench of urine behind the bathroom was powerful, but Esther had leaned close to the window and smelled only the hot, late summer grass and her aromatic plums. She had eaten them slowly, savoring their sweet juice, feeling guilty that she was eating when others were not, yet thoroughly enjoying them. This year she had no plums whose juices would dribble down her chin, but she did not mind.

When Esther and her family arrived at the synagogue, Beth Medresh Hagadol , between Lexington and Park on 105th street, though the doors were open, many people still milled about on the sidewalk. Inside the synagogue the air steamed and still had the stale smell of sweat from Kol Nidre services the previous night. Esther pulled Louie with her into the throng of people giving a nod here and a smile there. Almost all the Jews in the neighborhood came to this synagogue and Esther knew most of them. She caught sight of Isaac Strauss, the old man who owned the candy store on 99th street and First Avenue, right by her elementary school. This year Esther wouldnât see him everyday. She had graduated elementary school in the spring and now attended Hunter High School on ninety sixth street and Second Avenue. "Shalom elechem ," she said, greeting him.

"Elechem shalom," he replied and smiled at her. People had started to drift into the synagogue. Ida found Esther, and took her hand,walking with her to the stairs that led to the balcony where Ida and Esther and all of the other women sat. Esther waved at Elya, Archie, and Louie before she went upstairs with her mother. They had already taken seats together and were too busy, engaged in an animated discussion, to notice. It was as if the world of the balcony, of mothers, sisters, wives, women friends and neighbors, had ceased to exist.

The services seemed to last longer than usual this year. The synagogue had a single small window at the back of the sanctuary. The door of the synagogue was kept open to let cool air in, but even so the air was hot. Steam rose from the floor to the upper balcony. Esther wished she could remove the hateful woolen stockings which now suffocated her legs. Even Ida, who always looked so neat and pressed, had unpinned some of her sheitel and was leaning her head back, eyes closed, trying to find coolness in the wooden seats.

Later in the afternoon, there was a welcome break from the heat and from the Hebrew. Every year, before the evening services would start, Estherâs Hebrew school teacher, Mr. Tannenbaum, would stand at the front of the synagogue and, in English, tell the story of ãJonah and the Whale.ä Mr. Tannenbaum acted out the story, and changed his voice when he spoke as Jonah, and as God, so it was almost like a performance. Some of the adults in the congregation did not approve of the particular way the story was told, believing it was too dramatic, too untraditional for a Yom Kippur service.

This year, after the story finished, Mr. Tannenbaum made an announcement. ãTomorrow, my class is giving a musical recital at The Hebrew Home for the Aged. All of the congregation is welcome to attend.ä Esther glowed with pride. She would play piano tomorrow in the recital. The hours of practicing on Mr. Tannenbaumâs neighbors out-of-tune Baldwin would finally be rewarded. Next to her, Ida made clucking noises with her tongue against her teeth and shook her head. ãMama, I--,ä Esther started to say quietly.

ãShah! You know what I think of your concert. It is not for young girls to exhibit themselves in such a manner. There are plenty of other things you could be doing. Come home early. Help out in your fatherâs store! Do your schoolwork! At your age I came alone to this country, a greenhorn. I worked. No time for play. No time for school or piano. I worked to make a life and save money to send for my brother.ä

ãBut you said I could go!ä Esther protested, reminding her.

ãWho knows what I said. Yes. No. Enough of what I may have said. Give permission. Donât give permission-- It doesnât matter. Esther, I do not approve. A girl who plays piano will not find a husband. Just once I will let you play.ä

ãElya seemed to think it would be good for you to perform, a nice way for a little girl to express herself, he says. I say there are plenty of more useful ways for you to express yourself. You could...ä

ãIâve heard this already,ä Esther said, her voice rising slightly with frustration. ãI still donât understand...ä

ãShhhh!,ä The woman in front of them had turned around and was looking at Ida and Esther severely. ãThe service has resumed.ä Ida nodded once to the woman and then sat with her hands folded deliberately in her lap and her lips pursed. Esther, glancing at her once out of the side of her eye, knew that Ida would not speak to her for the rest of the service. Resignedly she settled back in her seat to listen.

After the service Esther walked slowly home in between Louie and Archie who were talking animatedly about the possibility of war in Europe. ãThere will be a war,ä Archie was saying with a grim expression. ãItâs only a matter of time. Thank God we have no family back in the old country, or Iâd be worried. Only last week, Mrs. Frank-- you know Mrs. Frank,ä Archie added, seeing Louieâs puzzlement ãthe nice woman who lives across the street, next to the plumbing store. She told me that she hadnât heard from her cousin David who lives in Germany in over a month. She wants to bring the rest of her family over to America but itâs becoming harder and harder for Jews to leave the country.ä Louie nodded in agreement. ãHitler and Mussolini have withdrawn from the League of Nations. France, England-- they are still so weak from the last war. They will not be able to fight another war so soon.ä

ãAmerica must do something,ä Archie added, his voice rising slightly. ãBut who knows how long Roosevelt is going to wait. He doesnât want the country to swing back into depression. War in Europe doesnât matter! It will have no impact on national interests! It doesnât matter if fascists take over the rest of the world so long as Americaâs democracy is safe! The day before Yom Kippur, The Daily Forward had a long column. It said if we had our own homeland we would not need Rooseveltâs protection. But Roosevelt will do nothing for the Jews. The British still keep us out of Palestine. We are a people lost in Diaspora.ä Archie spoke in bitter tones. He seemed to have forgotten he was speaking to Louie and now strode ahead deliberately, hands in his pockets, head down towards the pavement.

ãWhy must America do something? Arenât there enough people in Germany and Italy who donât like Hitler and Mussolini? Why donât they do something? ä Esther asked Louie. Ida now came to Estherâs side, placing a firm hand on her arm as she spoke.

ãEsther, Esther-- donât worry about the problems in Europe. Let your brothers do the worrying. This is not a subject for little girls.ä

ãPapa!ä Esther appealed to Elya, ãwhy does she always say that? Why canât I ask my question? I want to knowä

ãListen to you mother, Esther,ä Elya replied, sighing.

They had arrived at the apartment now. Quickly Esther and her brothers went into the kitchen to bring out the cold food that had been prepared the morning before. They lay the food on the worn table-- juice, cheeses and vegetables, and noodle pudding flavored with vanilla, cinnamon, and raisins. Estherâs favorite part of the meal, desert, would come later with fresh coffee. Esther, still angry about the dismissal of her question, ate quickly and sat at the table in stony silence while the rest of her family talked amicably. As soon as everyone had finished dinner, Ida brought out the coffee and babka. Esther loved her babka soaked in warm coffee milk, a sweet concoction of warm milk, lots of sugar, and just enough coffee to turn the milk a gentle tan. Tonight, though she was still angry and announced coldly that she didnât feel well and was going to bed. ãIâll come by the say good night,ä Louie shouted after her as she stormed down the dark hallway.

Why was nothing appropriate for girls, Esther wondered as she yanked pins out of her hair and aggressively pulled off her wool stockings. Girls could not ask many questions. They could not play piano. They could not even sit with the men and boys in synagogue. Were girls and women not as worthy in Godâs eyes? Jumping into bed, Esther turned on the light on the table next to her and reached for a book. Eagerly she opened Jane Eyre to her bookmark and tried to relax. However, tonight Esther couldnât concentrate on Janeâs struggle in the red room. The room was hot and Esther sweated under her blankets. She got up, opened the window and lay back down, this time on top of the covers. No better. There was no breeze. The air between the two buildings seemed to stir only when the El rumbled by. She tried to read again. As she read, her fingers drummed on the side of the book. Soon they were playing the piece she would play tomorrow at the recital. Giving up on reading, she lay the book open on her stomach and closed her eyes. Her finger flew over the pages. She concentrated, trying to hear the music with her playing. There was one spot in the music where the notes became 16th notes and her left hand always lagged behind.

ãEsther,ä Louieâs voice interrupted her playing. ãAre you practicing?ä

ãYes,ä she replied. ãThough I donât think it will make any difference.ä

ãWhat time will you get home after the concert?ä

ãNot until seven. Mamaâs so mad because Iâll miss dinner. And there is no Hebrew school class tomorrow, only the concert. She and papa donât like that either...ä she trailed off.

ãYou worry too much. Just play. It will be great.ä Louie got up and closed the door as he left. Esther, feeling calmer, picked up Jane Eyre and began to read again. After a few minutes, her eyes drooping, she closed the book, reached over and turned off the light. As she drifted off to sleep she could here herself counting the beats in the musics, the notes rolling over each other like waves rolling against the dock at Cony Island.

In school the next day all Esther could think about was the recital. She did not even attempt to listen in class, but instead played Bachâs "Petit Prelude" in her head over and over again, her fingers drumming on her hard wooden desk. At lunch, she found she had no appetite for the cheese and tomato sandwich Ida had packed for her, or the deliciously sour pickle which Louie had added in the morning before he left for law school in Brooklyn. She gave her lunch to Yekira Hagalili who, as usual, had a soggy tuna fish sandwich on store-bought white bread and wanted to trade. Yekira began talking to Esther about a date that her sister went on with her boyfriend Charles. It wasnât until Yekira said, ãWhat do you think?ä that Esther realized that she had not been listening at all.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, Esther swept all of her school supplies into her bag in one motion and hurried out of the classroom. She darted down the three flights of stairs, avoiding the rush of children who would come pouring out of the doors moments later. The Hebrew Home for the Aged was only nine blocks uptown and one avenue west and Esther did not have to be there for another forty-five minutes, but she ran anyway. She wanted to get there before the rest of her class, and to change into her dress without worrying about the time. She wanted to see the piano before she played it and see the people she was playing for. People who saw Esther tearing down the street smiled as they watched her. Esther, with bag and braids flying, had no idea that the people on the street loved seeing a little girl who clearly had something very important she needed to do.

When Mr. Tannenbaum and the rest of the students in his class arrived at the Hebrew Home for the Aged, they found Esther sitting in the lobby with her hands moving in her lap and her eyes closed. Her hair was neatly braided and her bag lay calmly at her feet. Esther opened her eyes and slowly got up. For a moment she felt as if sheâd left part of her stomach where she had been sitting. Her hands were cold and sweaty. Esther had sat in the lobby, waiting for her classmates to come, playing her piece over and over again in her head and in her lap, willing her fingers not to forget their movements.

Mr. Tannenbaum lead his class to a room filled with many older people. Some were smiling and talking to each other. Others sat reading or knitting. The children filed into the room and sat in the first row. Mr. Tannenbaum stepped to the front of the room and began to introduce the recital. Esther looked around her. She was scheduled to play last, so she had a lot of time to think. Most of the children, visibly nervous, fidgeted with their hands and feet, moving them up and down. Outwardly, Esther seemed calm. Inside, however, she writhed. Mama was right, she thought. I shouldnât be here-- plenty of other things I should be doing, better to be home working behind the counter at the deli or helping in the kitchen. Then she heard Mr. Tannenbaum call her name and, having no real sense of what she was doing, she stood up, straightened her skirt, and walked to the piano. The book on the piano was opened to the "Petit Prelude", but Esther barely glanced at it. From the instant she placed her hands to the keys, her palms stopped sweating and her fingers knew what to do. She felt nothing but the beat and the music.

When Esther had finished playing she stood up woodenly and walked hastily back to her seat, her ears ringing from applause. When she looked up, Mr. Tannenbaum beckoned for her to return to the front of the room. ãYou forgot to bow, Esther,ä he said. ãBut besides that, these people want you to play another piece. Listen to them cheer.ä Esther listened. The room was still echoing with the sounds of clapping. Esther sat down again at the piano, and feeling slightly overwhelmed and very pleased, began to play another piece of Bachâs, a short, complicated movement, "Sarabande", that she had been working on for two months. When she finished "Sarabande", she stood up slowly, remembered to bow and walked back to her seat, this time slowly, with her head up. Esther was in a stupor. She sat, reliving what it felt like to play, to have people clap for you. She did not feel her classmates thump her on the shoulder and back, congratulating her. She did not hear Mr. Tannenbaumâs speech to close the recital. Mr. Tannenbaum tapped her on the shoulder. ãEsther, the others are outside. Didnât you see everyone leave.ä

Embarrassed, Esther got up quickly, and grabbed her bag. ãNo,ä she answered. Iâm sorry Mr. Tannenbaum. I must be asleep.ä

Mr. Tannenbaum smiled. ãEsther, you were wonderful today! Did you enjoy playing?ä

Esther didnât even think. ãOh yes, so much,ä she gushed passionately.

ãIâm glad,ä Mr. Tannenbaum continued. ãI have scheduled an audition for you at the Manhattan School of Music. Itâs tomorrow-- You can play the pieces you prepared for tonight,ä he added, seeing Estherâs startled expression. ãIf you get in, the class meets on Wednesday nights and performs the first Friday of the month. And youâll be taught by the best teachers, not by your Hebrew teacher. Harold Bauer could be your teacher...ä he trailed off.

Esther gasped. Harold Bauer, a world famous pianist, could be her teacher. It did not seem quite real.

ãOf course though, you must speak with your parents. They will have to agree.ä

ãIâm sure theyâll say yes,ä Esther said quickly. ãWhat time is the audition? Can I meet you there?

ãAll right. Just meet me at the front entrance on 105th between second and third avenue at four.ä

Esther nodded and skipped out of the room. Gerta Hemel, who lived on the other side of the El tracks on 100th street and first Avenue linked arms with Esther, and together they began to walk home in the growing darkness. Gerta, who had recited, nervously asked Esther, ãCould you tell when I forgot my lines?ä

Esther, who had not heard a single word of Gertaâs recitation said, ãnoä quickly and then changed the subject. Gerta and Esther had been walking downtown, but on 100th street they turned East to walk to first Avenue. Esther least liked this part of the walk. The side streets on 100th street between Lexington and first avenue were almost entirely black. In the daytime, Esther did not mind walking on these streets, either with a friend, or by herself. She knew a girl who lived on 100th street between third avenue and second avenue, and would come to visit her sometimes. But the nighttime was different. Too many times, Esther had heard the neighborhood Irish children talk about the big, black boogie man who prowled the side streets on 100th street looking for little girls to kidnap. Neither she nor Gerta said anything, but both quickened their step.

At first Avenue Gerta crossed the street, and Esther, now alone, raced home. She opened the door of the deli and glanced to the back table on the right where she and her family always ate dinner. The table was empty except for Ida, who smiled tightly when she came in. Esther made her way to the back table, smiling at the few people still left in the deli. The Neighborhood Boys, a group of guys who worked for Mr. Featherstone, were playing cards around a table waiting for the night to really set in so that they could do some mischief. When Esther walked by, Frankie, the youngest of the group, about twenty, tall and blond, gave Esther a wink. Esther giggled. She knew the wink was in jest, but she still couldnât wait to tell Antonia Benano that handsome Frankie had winked at her.

Esther sat down at the table with Ida. Ida pushed the plate towards her. On the plate was thick chicken fat and brown crackled skin, Estherâs favorite meal. Mama wasnât angry! ãThank you Mama,ä Esther said softly. Ida said nothing, but watched Esther with an unreadable gaze. ãMama,ä Esther continued, faltering slightly. ãThe recital was so good! I played "Petit Prelude" and when I was done everyone was clapping so Mr. Tannenbaum told me to play another piece.ä Esther waited for Ida to say something, but she didnât so Esther proceeded. ãI played "Sarabande". That was good too. Mama, I love to play so much!ä

ãIâm glad the recital went well,ä Ida said finally.

Esther smiled. Finally Mama had said something. ãThereâs more, Mama. Mr. Tannenbaum scheduled an audition for me at the Manhattan School of Music tomorrow. If I get in, the class is every night and the performances are the first Friday of the month. I really---ä

ãEsther!ä Ida interrupted her. ãAre you thinking? This recital was enough. There is no future in the piano. Who can make money playing piano. Who will want to marry a piano player? The piano is for rich girls, for girls who not have to work. The piano is for big shots, not for us. Not for you.ä

ãWhat Mama? I don't understand. I want to play. Not for my future, for now. I love it.ä

ãIda,ä Elyaâs voice came from behind the counter where he had been cleaning up. ãShe has a gift. No harm can come by auditioning.ä

ãNo harm?!ä Ida exploded. ãWhat do you know of harm? She smiles, you melt. She cries, you tremble. Let her learn now what life is like- to work and make a good life, with family, and a man, and children. Girls who play piano, what are they? And do you hear, Elya, on SHABBAT!ä

ãI hear Ida,ä Elya responded, his voice rising slightly from its usual softness. ãBut she works so hard-- cooks, cleans, helps to clear tables, and still has time for school work, to make good grades, to get into Hunter High School. Not like the boys with grades so bad we had to send them to private school and keep the store open later just to pay. And she still goes every day to Hebrew school. With a gentle noshoma... they all like her-- the blacks, the Irish, the Italians; they come here to eat. They all ask for our Estherke. And to fast on Yom Kippur-- Come Ida. We must find a way. Let her try.ä

ãNo Elya. Enough narishkeit. Next you will tell me stories and bubbemeisahs and swear they are the truth. Fartek!ä

At four oâclock the next day, a trembling Esther met Mr. Tannenbaum outside the Manhattan School of Music. Mr. Tannenbaum thought Esther was nervous for the audition, but Esther was dreading her return home. She had not spoken to her parents-- had come without their permission. Mr. Tannenbaum brought Esther into a long, ground floor room with a large, grand piano standing royally one end. Awe struck, she shook hands with Mr. Bauer who lead her over to the piano. She sat down, and with little hesitation, began to play.

Outside the Manhattan School of Music, Ida stood, her hands dropped to her sides in a gesture of bewilderment. At 4 oâclock Esther had not come home. Ida, convinced that Esther had gone to the audition, left Elya at the deli to retrieve her daughter. She didnât think Esther would come home easily, but such silliness, such a waste of time, to to play the piano instead of school, or work, or Hebrew School. But when Ida reached the Manhattan School of Music, she paused. And in that moment, she heard beautiful music drifting faintly through a ground floor window. Suddenly Ida was crying. Her daughter was playing to the singing of angels. There was no future in the piano; there was not even a present. She did not want her daughter to pursue a silly dream. And yet, Esther was making beautiful music. Her daughter had a gift.

After Esther had finished playing there was a weighted silence in the room. Mr. Bauer turned and whispered something to Mr. Tannenbaum which Esther could not hear. Then Mr. Bauer turned to her and said sternly, in a hushed tone, ãThank you for playing. I will speak with your parents, and I expect to see you a week from today for class.ä

Dizzy from Mr. Bauerâs words, Esther could barely hear or understand what Mr. Tannenbaum was saying to her as he walked her toward the deli. Far too soon, they arrived at the all too familiar awning of the store. ãShould I come in to talk to your parents now,ä Mr. Tannenbaum asked. ãNo,ä Esther answered quickly. ãItâs late. Weâre closing up soon.ä She peeked inside the deli to see if anyone was waiting for her at the table on the right. ãIâll just talk to you tomorrow in Hebrew schoolä she added nervously. Esther left Mr. Tannenbaum, and walked slowly into the store, not smiling at anyone, passed the counter to the table on the right. Elya and Ida were both waiting for her there. Did they know? Would they be mad?

ãSo my fagele,ä Ida asked, smiling. ãHow was the audition?ä