Handsome Freaks Ch 11: Magdalene, the Young Abraham

ezravan (63)in #writing • 6 years ago

Handsome Freaks

A Serial Novel

by Ezra Vancil

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Missed The Last Chapters?

Ch1-P1 | Ch1-P2 | Ch2-P1 | Ch2-P2 | Ch3-P1 | Ch3-P2 | Ch3-P3 | Ch4-P1 | Ch4-P2 | Ch4-Pt3 | Ch4-Pt4 | Ch5 | Ch6 P1 | Ch6 P2 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch 10 pt2

This is an original STEEM series novel. I'm writing it as I go, so bear with me. If you like odd dramas about odd things, strangely funny and sad, freaks, bearded ladies, emotional pain of invisible boys–you might like this. Enjoy and if your so inclined: RESTEEMs, upvoted and comments are most pleasant.. thank you.

Missed the last Chapter, CHp 10 Part 2? Read it now << Chapter 10 Prt 2

For more convenience, I'm will have at some point an updated Novel index here soon!

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Chapter 11: Magdalene, the Young Abraham

Before he had left for the city in his black cloak determined to set his family's crimes aright; Geraldo kissed his daughter Magdalene on the forehead for the last time. He ran a finger over her cheek and felt the coarse hair of her fully grown beard which left only the round pink bulbs of her cheekbones unincumbered with growth. Her body sunk in shame under his tender touch. He sensed her entire countenance wither like a dying flower.

The moon was full; back smoke from the smoldering city obscured its light in a haunting glow. He was still sobering from the night of drunkenness but he stood firm when he spoke. “There is no time for shame dear Magdalene. I will not see your face again.”
“I’m sorry Papa. I can not even bear to touch my own face. It makes me cringe to feel tenderness. Even from you Papa.”
Her head turned away from him, looking at nothing interocular on the ground. He gently turned her face towards him with a hand.
“What use is beauty anyway? It is a gift that carries with it inevitable plans of suffering—for when it flees, you wish it had never arrived. So do not grieve; beauty is a vapor but you are real.”

She had pleaded in tears one last time as he mounted the white mare. "let the boy perish, what’s done is done... I can't be alone.”

He looked at her from atop the horse and said the last words she would hear from her father: “_I could not bring myself to believe in heaven, my dear. Oh, how I tried. But, hell? That, I do believe is waiting for me on the other side. That is—if I do not right this wrong I have done. Everything in me testifies of such a fate. Debo irme. Adiós.”

His drunkenness revealed itself once again as he trotted slowly down the dark road that exited the James Estate, awkwardly swaying from side to side, singing an old song.

de pena, de susto
fallece mi vida,
cercana oprimida
del ultimo mal
O cielo que miras

He had given her specific instruction for her flight to America. She was to flee on the St. Isadora which was scheduled for it’s seasonal voyage to the Port of New Orleans in the coming days. She would no longer go by the name of her birth. And, furthermore, she was no longer to go by the sex of her birth. The name on the passport that Geraldo had given her was: Abraham Menashe Brüll, which was her cousin. Brüll was her mother, Esther’s, maiden name—she was a Jew originally from Rhineland, Bavaria. It was a scandal in the Brüll family that Esther had married Geraldo James (Diego), a Catholic man. The marriage served the family for a decade but in the end, cholera eventually brought the families back together, when Esther’s cousin—Abraham’s parents—died in the dreadful epidemic.

In that time, the Brülls called upon their daughter to help in lodging her young Nephew. He was the same age as Magdalene but a sickly young man. So, he and Magdalene had little contact–at Esther’s insistence.
There were preparations made for him to be shipped, as soon as possible, to the Americas; where the eldest brother, Feivish Brüll, had built several successful tailoring shops in New York.

Though there was no evidence of cholera in the region of Valencia at the time, still, the young boy died with many of the common symptoms of vomiting and dehydration. For fear of further outbreaks; his body was quickly disposed of on the estate.

The belongings of the deceased Abraham, including his newly presented travel papers, were left with the James family for safe keeping.

By the time of the young Abraham’s death, the Brüll family had been decimated by many tragedies including the cholera epidemic and fearing a further chasm with her ailing parents—being that the only male air of their Brüll family had died in her care—Esther took it upon herself to send word to Feivish Brüll in New York that his nephew, Abraham, had found employment with Geraldo in Valencia and had put off any plans to travel to meet him in New York.

To her parents—the last of these Rhineland Brülls—she sent word that Abraham had safely landed in America and had met a beautiful judía girl on the voyage, with plans of Marriage. At Esther's insistence, there was no announcement or declaration of the death of Abraham Menashe Brüll in that year—in order to keep her “kind lie ...” as she put it, “... in the grave”.

Esther’s deception, concerning her deceased cousin had greatly troubled Geraldo for the years to come, as did anything of a dishonest nature. But it was, these years later, the only possible salvation he could imagine for his daughter Magdalene. She was to take on the unfinished life of Abraham. To visit her uncle Feivish in New York. There, she could use her own sewing skills to work in her Uncle's Tailoring business.

It was not what he had hoped for his daughter—a life as a man, and even worse—a life as a Taylor. Yet, in those final hours, it seemed as if it was somehow destined to be.

After the decisions were made to turn himself in; he knew there would be no one left to protect his Magdalene. There seemed no other choice. Then, in the least, she would not starve, nor worse; be banished to the woods as some kind of freak of nature, as was the fate of poor boy, Pio Piccolo.

Saddened as he was, Geraldo had confidence in his decision, for Magdalene had proven on several occasions that she could pass as a man. When her beard could no longer be hidden; she had tailored herself a black suit, like her fathers, and had gone undetected into the market square. The first trip to the market in this manner was made without Geraldo's knowledge. But on the second occasion, he had returned early from his work and noticed she had left the estate, which was strongly against his wishes. He then thought to surprise her at the door with a scrolling, yet it was he that was surprised; seeing his daughter standing before him as a young man, he sensed a pride in his chest. He even felt, at that moment, an admiration for his daughter, whose cunning was as well hued as any great Abogado.

Magdalene arrived at the St. Isadora as the sun rose. The old ship was being readied for a voyage to the port of New Orleans for the following day. The crowds were uncommonly thin that day at el puerto de valencia. Surely due to the fires and the revolution that took place in the city courtyard. Some ocean liners had been abandoned altogether and there was a sense of quiet chaos on the harbor.

Though there were two other passenger ship liners that set sail for New York, where Magdalene’s uncle Feivish Brüll was located; being the chief court Abogado of the province of Valencia, Geraldo knew the Port better than any man. He knew that to board a passenger liner, Magdalene would need pass through the Autoridades portuarias. Questions would be asked and papers would be examined. Especially with the recent disturbances in the city.

The St. Isadora was not a passenger ship. It carried freight for trade and made its rounds like clockwork every eight weeks. Geraldo knew the captain, an American, native to New Orleans: Captain John Perif. He was not the type of man to lose one Spanish peseta over a city burning. He spoke only the language of gold, and though he carried few passengers, he cared not if they were saints, slaves or sinners; if they spoke the same language, their ticket was sure.

Magdalene carried only two small bags, which her father had packed in the night. She wore the one black suit she had tailored herself, as well as a black derby of her fathers. In the bags were a pair of trousers and two well-cut cotton shirts, from Abraham’s belongings. She had strapped her breast flat against her chest but there was little need to do so, her breast were small and easily hidden.

Along with the clothing were two letters, one for Captain Perif, the other to be posted at the Port of New Orleans, addressed to her and Abraham’s Uncle Feivish.

Strapped to her breast was one hundred US dollars, also from Abraham’s belongings; acquired for his eventual voyage to America. Her father had also hidden two small gold bricks, the last of his fortune; to be her assurance in her new life as Abraham Menashe Brüll.

Geraldo warned her to avoid other Jews, for She spoke very little Hebrew; only what phrases she had picked up from her mother—mostly curses. She was well versed in Bayerisch, her mother’s native language, and of course Spanish, French and a little English—for she was a well-educated girl.

Her lack of knowing Hebrew was not a concern for meeting her Uncle Feivish. He was an old man now and for a Jewish Bavarian boy to speak only Bayerisch, further proved his belief that the Jewish youth of his day were no better than the goyem.

At the ladder of the St. Isadora she informed the Chief mate that there was a matter of import she need discuss with Captain Perif. She tried to speak from her throat, deepening her timber, but it was of little use.
Her voice was thin, that of a seventeen-year-old girl.

The ship worker seemed confused by the silky voice that came from the wildly bearded boy’s mouth. He chuckled, patted Magdalene on the head and spoke to her in a heavy Scottish accented. “Important eh? Alright boy, you can find the Cap in the Waist deck. You’ll notice him, he’s an ugly galla”.
She made out the words ‘waist deck’ from his slobbery accent, tipped her derby and made way for the ladder.
“Ey loon ...” She heard the Scott yell as she ascended the ladder. She turned. “...You smell too sweet for this auld Plab ship. We’re not used to have’n burds aboard.”

Magdalene heard scattered laughter from other shipmates surrounding the decks and not knowing how else to respond, she smiled. If Magdalene had known that he called her a 'girl', even jokingly, she would have left the ship immediately. For, with even the suspicion for 4 weeks among an all-male ship, of the same caliber as the slobbering Scott, was an unbearable thought. But she did not understand what was said.