The Jakub Feinmans of the World

Aleksy, who is not a hero by any stretch of the imagination, wakes to the sound of retching. Iwona is ill in their bathroom. Aleksy is afraid she will wake either his sister, Wiesława, or his colicky nephew, Lew, both of whom sleep in the second bedroom off the kitchen. Aleksy is nervous because tonight he and Iwona will meet that renowned Jew, Doctor Jakub Feinman. A great man. In the technikum high school where the teenage Aleksy trained as an IT specialist, they read about the doctor, about his ghetto fights, and to this day it is difficult for Aleksy to conceive of him as the sort of human being one has over for dinner. It takes Americans, Rabbi and Pani Craner, to befriend a man like Doctor Feinman. In their blithe American way, they think nothing of dining with him at home, Aleksy and Iwona the only other guests.

Iwona heaves more wetly now. A splash in the toilet. Aleksy can't help thinking about morning sickness, which afflicted Wiesława during her pregnancy. She thinks her morning sickness had a human source—the evil eye, the curse of some jealous spinster from her place on Ulika Jakuba. Wiesława is, depending on the day, an old-fashioned Polish Catholic or a functioning lunatic, conflating the New Testament and folklore in her worldview. All of which is to say that although she believes in the eye, she's also devoted to her god. Yesterday, she texted Aleksy photos of the black-clad women who passed beneath her bedroom window. Look at these whores on strike. They'd kill the baby Jesus. I hope you go to work like a normal person. Aleksy responded with a picture of a dog someone had dressed in a black sweater.

Iwona spews one last time. Aleksy used to go to her when she got sick like this, until she told him it made her feel embarrassed. Now, instead of fussing, he says, "Will you live?"

"Probably."

So Aleksy lies on his back and lets his mind continue to wander: vomiting, evil eye, Iwona, mothers, sisters. His sister, Wiesława. When it became clear she'd have to move in with him in his flat in Łódź, Aleksy was forced to admit Iwona was already staying there. That was five months ago. Evil eye.

Lew is crying now, his steady baby cry. It's not loud, just constant. Wiesława rouses and rolls over on her creaky mattress. Iwona is still in the bathroom, taking deep breaths to calm the spasms in her stomach. They live so closely, so cramped, Aleksy can hear everything. Is this what the ghetto was like? No, the ghetto was worse, and to make any comparison is an insult to Doctor Feinman.

"Please shut the fuck up, please." Wiesława's voice comes through the wall, though it's impossible to tell if she's talking to Iwona or Lew. Probably Iwona, whom Wiesława resents for never having gotten knocked up. Yes, Iwona's sick this morning, but not sick with a baby. She's just hung over because she and Aleksy went to the Craners' house for drinks last night, after the protest, and helped put away whole bottles of wódka. Craner compared Prawo i Sprawiedliwość, Poland's new conservative party, to the crazy Republicans of America, but then Iwona, who speaks with so many Americans when she's giving tours of the Jewish cemetery, corrected him. PiS is like the Republicans in its denial of rights for gays and immigrants and women, but PiS is unlike the Republicans in its generosity, handing out stipends for dependent children and lowering the age of retirement.

This morning, Aleksy tests his body, wiggles his fingers, and makes certain he, personally, does not need to throw up. No one thing, it occurs to him, is perfectly like another. PiS supporters are not Republicans, because Poland is not America. PiS supporters are not Nazis, because, well, he's not sure. It's hard to think over his apartment's noises for too long. Iwona gargles...