The teacher
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Everything in this case had calmed down, too,so that Tom could take a breath and finally allow himself to think of something more than fighting and killing.
«Do you want to go to the lake tomorrow? Thomas asked, taking a SIP of water, wanting to eat at last, and pulling a plate of hot chicken soup towards him, « nature, air, lake. »
Lily shrugged as Tom regretfully fished a piece of slowly melting butter out of his plate.
«Ugh, » he said, pushing the soup plate away, and his eyes darted around the table in despair, knowing that he had nothing else to eat.
«What's wrong with butter? It tastes better,» Lily assured him.
«Never, never should a decent and traditional Jew mix dairy products and meat! It's a sin!»
Lily looked at Thomas blankly, demanding an explanation.
«Wait until I explain.»
Tom called the waiter to bring him the soup, and then looked back at the girl, who was obviously tense and ready to listen.
«I live by the commandments and laws that are written in the Torah, right? For me to do anything without prayer or without prayer is a sin. Just like eating something that isn't kosher is a sin.»
Lily just smiled a little, thinking that Thomas was almost a fanatic, and went back to eating. All this time, he gradually accustomed her to Jewish cuisine, replacing the usual dishes only with national ones. At first, she resisted fiercely, but then she felt the taste and even found her favorited dish-tzime. After trying it for the first time, it spat out a spoon in a napkin and made a face unrecognizable:
«What kind of carrion is this?»
Tom would have laughed if it wasn't his favourite sweet from childhood, consisting of carrots and other vegetables. His mother often prepared tzimes, leaving only good memories for the Jew.
«Is there fat floating around? » the girl shouted, looking at the yellow slime on her plate and startling the other Jewish guests, who looked at the Goy with displeasure.
«Yes, honey, it's real mutton fat!»
Tom didn't know which was more disconcerting-the basis of the dessert or his words.
«What about nature?»
Lily rubbed her temple.
«If you need nature, come to us. Because I have thirteen acres of land and three younger brothers.»
This is not how Shulman imagined their first solitude.
«You mean you were assigned to dig and plant a vegetable garden?»
Lily nodded, smearing caramel on her lips.
«I think your older brothers are exploiting you.»
Lily gripped her fork.
«Please don't touch my brothers!» she threw the device on the table, covering it with her hand.
Tom has touched something alive again, but he doesn't know what it is.
«What did I say wrong?»
Lily tried to calm down, washing down her anger with warm tea, holding the Cup between her fingers.
«You don't tell me anything about your family? I have to get everything out of you with my tongs. And if I say something wrong, you will react violently, without first defining acceptable boundaries!»
Lily lowered her eyes and ran her fingernails along the rim of the Cup.
«Can we start with you? Tell me about yourself and your family. I don't know anything either! The request sounded more like a challenge.»
Thomas searched his memory, lost all appetite, and dropped the spoon into the soup.
«Do you need an autobiography?»
Lily raised her hands expectantly.
«Okay, you're pushy. Hi, my name is Thomas Shulman. I'm thirty-six years old and Jewish, right? My mother was Polish
Jew, and my father was a London Jew. He is a former member of House of lords.»
«So you have English roots?»
Tom sighed wearily. He thought he was talking to a fucking kid.
«Are you even listening to me? I just said I was Jewish. My mother is a full-blooded Jew, my father is a full-blooded Jew! My mother came to England with my father. She was from a noble family, you know? This is where she met my father.»
She smacked her lips guiltily, trying to find the right keys for Tom. In fact, he threw away the keys a long time ago because he just hated talking about his past, childhood, and family.
«What about your father? How did he end up in the ward? Where is he from?»
Thomas let out an exasperated sigh.
Memory
More than ten years ago
The young and violent Thomas, in the Prime of life, was eager to find his father and show what his son had achieved. This man had been searching for it all over England for a long time, and finally came across it while visiting the United States on a business trip.
«Hello, father,» he murmured, extending his hand to the old man in the leather chair.
«What the hell is this? Shulman senior asked, looking at a tall, dark-haired man with a smooth face, grey-green eyes, and close-cropped hair. Black suit, hat, and gun in hand.
«This horseradish came from your already saggy and flabby horseradish, which you should have cut off immediately after birth.»
The old man shifted in his chair
«My name is Thomas. Thomas Shulman.»
«Bastard, do you think you can come here and call yourself my son?» he croaked back, swinging his cane at Tom. The old man was clearly not himself from old age, but continued to be rude and throw mud.
«What do you want from me? The money, the legacy? Why are you standing here like a Parisian virgin?»
Shulman licked his lower lip nervously.
«Do you want me to say «Hello» to your whore mom? If you only knew how angry she made me in our fucking marriage. If you only knew how much I disliked her. And how I didn't love the children she gave birth to me. Including you, you little boy. A weakling who was being chased down the street.»