Encore: Chapter 25

The dormitory was completely empty, but Sholom Wasser thought that its silence also had a sound. He walked down the hall that had been so noisy and boisterous just five minutes earlier, the happy commotion of the last-minute packing and grabbing sweatshirts and pillows, the talmidim of the Yeshivah Gedolah of Modena going home for the first time since the yeshivah’s opening. There had been fist bumps and awkward hugs and Dovi Korman had started a little dance on the creaky front porch of the hotel.

The zeman was over.

There were empty potato chip bags on the floor and a bottle of Coke sat in its own sticky puddle. It was okay, Sholom thought indulgently, the usual mess made by boys in a rush. Boys being boys. He walked on, gingerly opening the door to each room, not even sure what he was looking for.

It was just something he’d wanted to do all zeman long, leisurely walk to the dorm of his yeshivah and look around: his own rosh yeshivah had done it weekly, opened drawers, lifted seforim and books off night tables and flipped through the pages, removed tapes from the tape recorders and peered at them, but Sholom hadn’t felt ready for that.

Not when the boys were there.

Now, he jumped back, startled at the picture on the far wall of the room. It was him. Sholom Wasser, walking near the edge of the large field, the stone fence of the neighboring property in the background. It was a nice picture, and part of him wanted to run and call Penina, show it to her. He studied the picture, wishing for a moment that his expression was a bit more serious and rosh yeshivah-like, like Rav Boruch Ber in the woods of Poland: here, he looked like he was pondering the weather.