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Excerpt fromThe Immortalistsby Chloe Benjamin
The Woman on Hester Street
1969
Varya
Varya is thirteen.
New to her are three more inches of height and the dark patch of fur between her legs.
Credit: G.P. Putnam’s Sons
Her breasts are palm-sized, her nipples pink dimes.
Her tiny nose is no ones, or so she thinks.
By twenty, it will have risen to assume its full, hawkish majesty: her mothers nose.
Daniel leads the way, taking them down Clinton to Delancey, turning left at Forsyth.
They walk the perimeter of Sara D. Roosevelt Park, keeping to the shade beneath the trees.
At Hester, the siblings become quiet.
Though Simon is the youngest, hes quick.
In one hand, he carries a drawstring bag, made of a chinoiserie fabric.
Inside, dollar bills rustle and coins shimmy their tin music.
Where is this place?
I think its right here, Daniel says.
How do we get inside?
I guess we ring the buzzer, Daniel says.
The buzzer for the fifth floor.
Yeah, says Klara, but which number?
Daniel pulls a crumpled receipt out of his back pocket.
When he looks up, his face is pink.
Varya leans against the wall of the building and flaps a hand in front of her face.
Wait, Daniel says.
Let me think for a second.
Simon sits down on the asphalt; the drawstring purse sags, like a jellyfish, between his legs.
Klara pulls a piece of taffy from her pocket.
Before she can finish chewing, the door to the building opens, and a young man walks out.
He wears purple-tinged glasses and an unbuttoned paisley shirt.
He nods at the Golds.
Yes, says Daniel.
As he walked back to 72 Clinton, Daniels heart skipped in his chest like a rock.
Zoya, the black-and-white cat, lay on the radiator in a square frame of sun.
Daniel laid it out for them, his plan.
Varya propped a dirty foot up on the ceiling.
What exactly does this womando?
Daniel was hyper, impatient.
asked Klara, moving her game piece.
She spent the first part of the summer teaching herself Houdinis rubber band card trick, with limited success.
What I heard, said Daniel, is she can tell fortunes.
Whatll happen in your lifewhether youll have a good one or a bad one.
And theres something else.
He braced his hands in the doorframe and leaned in.
She can say when youll die.
Thats ridiculous, said Varya.
Nobody can say that.
And what if they could?
Then I wouldnt want to know.
Varya put her book down and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bunk.
What if its bad news?
What if she says youll die before youre even a grown up?
Then itd be better to know, said Daniel.
So you could get everything done before.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Simon began to laugh, his birds body fluttering.
Daniels face deepened in color.
Im serious, he said.
I cant take another day in this apartment.
So who the hell is coming with me?
Theyre rioting outside Stonewall, ramming the doors with uprooted parking meters, smashing windows and jukeboxes.
Next year, Varya will go to the Catskills with her friend Aviva.
Ill do it, said Klara.
Me too, Simon said.
So how do we get an appointment with her?
asked Varya, who knew, by thirteen, that nothing comes for free.
What does she charge?
The Gold children asked around.
The owner of a magic shop in Chinatown had heard of the woman on Hester Street.
She was a nomad, he told Klara, traveling around the country, doing her work.
Its cover showed twelve open eyes surrounded by symbols.
Klara paid sixty-five cents and hugged it on the walk home.
Some of the other residents at 72 Clinton Street knew of the woman, too.
Mrs. Blumenstein met her in the 50s at a fabulous party, she told Simon.
She read my palm.
She said I would have a very long life, Mrs. Blumenstein said, leaning forward for emphasis.
And do you know, my dear, she was right.
The Hindu family on the 6th floor called the woman arishika, a seer.
42, in return for a plate of spiced butter chicken.
They ate on the fire escape as the sun went down, their bare legs swinging beneath the grates.
Ruby knew all about the woman.
Two years ago, she said, I was eleven, and my grandmother was sick.
The first doctor said it was her heart.
He told us shed die in three months.
But the second doctor said she was strong enough to recover.
He thought she could live for two years.
Below them, a taxi squealed across Rivington.
Ruby turned her head to squint at the East River, green-brown with muck and sewage.
A Hindu dies at home, she said.
They should be surrounded by family.
Even Papas relatives in India wanted to come, but what could we tell them?
Stay for two years?
Then Papa heard of therishika.
He went to see her, and she gave him a datethe date Dadi was to die.
We put Dadis bed in the front room, with her head facing east.
We lit a lamp and kept vigil: praying, singing hymns.
Papas brothers flew from Chandigarh.
I sat on the floor with my cousins.
There were twenty of us, maybe more.
When Dadi died on May 16th, just like therishikasaid, we cried with relief.
Why would we be mad?
That the woman didnt secure your grandma, Varya said.
That she didnt make her better.
Therishikagave us a chance to say goodbye.
We can never repay her for that.
Ruby picked the last crumbs of kugel out of the foil, then folded it in half.
Anyway, she couldnt make Dadi better.
She knows things, therishika, but she cant stop them.
Where is she now?
Daniel heard shes staying in a building on Hester Street, but he doesnt know which.
I wouldnt know, either.
She stays in a different place every time.
Inside the Singhs apartment, there was a high-pitched crash and the sound of someone shouting in Hindi.
Ruby stood, brushing the crumbs off her skirt.
What do you mean, her safety?
asked Varya, standing too.
There are always people going after a woman like that, Ruby said.
Who knows what she knows.
I gotta go.
Kids, said one of them.
Why would you wanna get mixed up with something like that?
His voice was sharp, as though Varya had personally insulted him.
She left with her sandwich, flustered, and did not bring the subject up again.
In the end, the same boys Daniel originally overheard gave him the womans address.
The boys didnt seem to be bothered.
The rumor, they told Daniel, was that you had to bring an offering.
When Klara wasnt home, Varya retrievedThe Book of Divinationfrom beneath Klaras bed and climbed into her own.
Lev became an assistant manager, then a manager.
In 1930, he opened his own businessGolds Tailor and Dressmakingin a basement apartment on Hester Street.
Varya was named for her fathers mother, who worked as Levs bookkeeper until their retirement.
But she died when Varyas mother, Gertie, was only six, and Gertie rarely speaks of her.
Once, Klara and Varya snuck into Gerties bedroom and scoured it for traces of their grandparents.
In the top drawer, they found a small wooden box, lacquered and gold-hinged.
In another, she rode a horse, bent over backward with her midriff showing.
Two things told them this woman was their grandmother.
Klara claimed the box and its contents.
It belongs to me, she said.
I got her name.
Ma never looks at it, anyway.
But they soon found that was not true.
Moments later, Gertie burst into the bunk room.
Her nostrils flared, and her wide hips blocked the light that usually spilled in from the hallway.
Klara was hot with fear, nearly crying.
She stared at the womans intensity, her glamour, and vowed shed live up to her namesake.
Dont look around like that, Daniel hisses.
Act like you belong.
The Golds hurry up the stairs.
The walls are covered in chipped, beige paint, and the hallways are dark.
When they reach the fifth floor, Daniel pauses.
What do you suggest we do now?
She likes it when Daniel is stumped.
We wait, says Daniel.
For someone to come out.
But Varya doesnt want to wait.
Shes jittery, filled with unexpected dread, and she starts down the hallway alone.
The four in number fifty-four has fallen sideways.
Assuming that arishikawould not care about baseball, she steps back again.
Her siblings have floated apart.
Daniel stands near the stairwell with his hands in his pockets, watching the doors.
Klara has been wandering in the opposite direction, but now she comes to stand with them.
What are you doing?
That could be anyone.
It could be
Yeah?
The voice that comes from behind the door is low in pitch and gruff.
Were here to see the woman, Klara tries.
Varya holds her breath.
There is a peephole in the door, smaller than a pencil eraser.
On the other side of the door, a throat is cleared.
One at a time, the voice says.
Varya catches Daniels eye.
They have not prepared to separate.
Nobody is sure how long Klara is inside.
To Varya, it feels like hours.
She sits against the wall with her knees to her chest.
She is thinking of fairytales: witches who take children, witches who eat them.
A tree of panic sprouts in her stomach and grows until the door cracks open.
Varya scrambles to her feet, but Daniel is faster.
Before Daniel pushes the door shut, he looks at Varya and Simon.
Dont worry, he says.
asks Simon, once Daniel is gone.
Why didnt she come back out?
She must be inside, says Varya, though the same question has occurred to her.
Theyll probably be there when we go in, Klara and Daniel both.
Theyre probably just… waiting for us.
This was a bad idea.
Simons blond curls are matted with sweat.
He talks less than the others.
At dinner, he sits with his brow furrowed and his eyes glazed.
But he has a rabbits speed and agility.
Sometimes, while walking beside him to synagogue, Varya finds herself alone.
Its all right, Sy.
You go ahead, and Ill stand lookout.
For what or whom, she isnt surethe hallway is just as empty as it was when they arrived.
Really, Varya is timid: despite being the oldest, shed rather let the others go first.
But Simon seems comforted.
He brushes a curl out of his eyes before he leaves her.
Alone, Varyas panic swells.
She should have stopped them from coming.
But its too late to leave the way she came in, and her siblings are waiting.
Varya puts her hand to the door and pushes it all the way open.
Books are stacked on the floor like model skyscrapers.
Only a nook by the door has been cleared.
There, a folding table sits between two folding chairs.
Beside it, a smaller table has been set with red cloth roses and an open bible.
Varya feels a pang of guilt.
Her parents wouldnt want her to be here.
But didnt God make the fortune teller, just as He made Varyas parents?
In synagogue, Varya tries to pray, but God never seems to respond.
Therishika, at least, will talk back.
The woman stands at the sink, shaking loose tea into a delicate metal ball.
Though she is large, her movements are elegant and precise.
Where are my siblings?
Varyas voice is throaty, and she is embarrassed by the desperation she hears in it.
The blinds are drawn.
The woman pulls a mug from the top shelf and places the metal ball inside it.
I want to know, Varya says, more loudly, where my siblings are.
A kettle whistles on the stovetop.
The woman turns off the burner and lifts the kettle above the mug.
Water pours out in a thick, clear cord, and the room fills with the smell of grass.
Outside, she says.
No, theyre not.
I waited in the hall, and they never came out.
The woman steps toward Varya.
Her cheeks are doughy and her nose bulbous, her lips puckered like a drawstring purse.
Her skin is golden-brown, like Ruby Singhs.
I cant do nothing if you dont trust me, she says.
Take off your shoes.
Then you’re able to sit down.
Chastised, Varya slips off her saddle shoes and places them next to the door.
Perhaps the woman is right.
She sits at the folding table; the woman sets the mug of tea before her.
Varya thinks of tinctures and poisons, of Rip Van Winkle and his twenty-year sleep.
Therishikasits in the folding chair across from Varya.
She scans Varyas rigid shoulders, her damp hands, her face.
You havent been feeling so good, have you, honey?
Varya swallows in surprise.
She shakes her head.
You been waitin to feel better?
Varya is still, though her pulse runs.
You worry, says the woman, nodding.
Varyas mouth trembles its assent.
Her heart is so full she feels it might crack.
Thats a shame, says the woman.
We got work to do.
She snaps her fingers and gestures to Varyas left hand.
Her breath is shallow.
Can you really do it?
Do you know when Ill die?
She has a classmate at P.S.
42, Eugene Bogopolski, whose three brothers were sent to Vietnam when Varya and Eugene were only nine.
All three of them returned, and the Bogopolskis threw a party in their Broome Street apartment.
The next year, Eugene dove into a swimming pool, hit his head on the concrete and died.
Varyas date of death would be one thingperhaps the most important thingshe could know for sure.
The woman looks at Varya.
Her eyes are bright, black marbles.
I can help you, she says.
I can do you good.
Gently, she tugs Varyas thumb backward; it doesnt bend far before resisting.
She examines the space between Varyas fourth and fifth fingers.
She squeezes the tip of Varyas pinky.
What are you looking for?
Ever heard of Heraclitus?
Varya shakes her head.
Greek philosopher.Character is fatethats what he said.
Theyre bound up, those two, like brothers and sisters.
You wanna know the future?
She points at Varya with her free hand.
Look in the mirror.
And what if I change?
Then youd be special.
Cause most people dont.
Therishikaturns Varyas hand over and sets it down on the table.
January 21st, 2044.
Her voice is matter-of-fact, as if she is stating the temperature, or the winner of the ballgame.
You got plenty of time.
For a moment, Varyas heart unlatches and lifts.
2044 would make her 88, an altogether decent age to die.
How do you know?
What did I say about you trusting me?
The rishika raises a furry eyebrow and frowns.
Now, I want you to go home and think about what I said.
If you do that, youre gonna feel better.
But dont tell anybody, all right?
What it shows in your hand, what I told youthats between you and me.
The woman stares at Varya, and Varya stares back.
Now that Varya is the appraiser and not the person appraised, something curious happens.
The womans eyes lose their luster, her movements their elegance.
Varya thinks of the Wizard of Oz.
Like him, this woman is no mage and no seer.
She is a swindler, a con artist.
My brother should have paid you, she says.
The woman rises, too.
When she hears the voices of her siblings drift up from below, her heart balloons.
But therishikastands before her like a barrier.
She pinches Varyas arm.
Everything is gonna come out okay for you, honey.
Everything is gonna work out okay.
Between the womans fingers, Varyas skin turns white.
Let me go, she says.
She is surprised by the coldness in her voice.
In the womans face, a curtain yanks shut.
She releases Varya and steps aside.
Varya clangs down the stairs of the fire escape in her saddle shoes.
What do you think?
Oh, but you cant actually believe… Varya looks to Daniel for help, but he is stony.
Whatever she said to youit doesnt mean anything.
She made it up.
Daniel turns and begins to walk toward the street.
Klara pulls Simon up by one arm.
He still holds the drawstring bag, which is as full as it was when they came.
You were supposed to pay her, Varya says.
I forgot, says Simon.
She doesnt deserve our money.
Daniel stands on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips.
They are quiet on the walk home.
Varya has never felt further from the others.
At dinner, she picks at her brisket, but Simon doesnt eat at all.
What is it, my sweet?
His blonde curls are white beneath the overhead light.
Eat the food your mother has prepared, says Saul.
He sits on his hands.
What is it, hm?
clucks Gertie, one eyebrow raised.
Not good enough for you?
he cries, standing.
Hate!All of you!
Simon, says Saul, standing too.
He still wears the suit he wore to work.
His hair is thinning and lighter than Gerties, an unusual coppery blond.
You do not speak to your family that way.
He is wooden in this role.
Gertie has always been the disciplinarian.
Now, she only gapes.
But I do, says Simon.
There is wonder in his face.
