“What will I do if he says something back to me in German?” I asked.

“Don’t be such a worry one. I’m right here. I’ll take over. Anyway, he speaks English.”

I approached Avrum. He looked up at me and frowned. He did not seem pleased. I said awkwardly, “Guter morgen, Herr Feldman. Wo ist dein arsch?” I smiled nervously.

Avrum’s face flooded with a rush of blood. I could see violence in his eyes. His lips quivered. I heard Harry behind me, laughing. Avrum’s eyes moved from me to Harry, then back to me. He closed his book and patted the bench beside him. “Sit down,” he said quietly.

I sat.

He said, “That man you’re with, that Harry Burger, is a son of a bitch.” His voice rose suddenly and he spit the words at Harry. “He’s old and he’s mean and when he dies, I am going to piss on his grave, right on his ugly face.”

I said, “Sir?”

Harry laughed harder, sucking for breath.

Avrum nodded his whole-body nod. “What you said to me was, ‘Good morning, Mr. Feldman. Where is your ass?’ ”

“I did? I thought …” I hesitated.

“So, tell me, what was it that mean old son of a bitch told you you were saying?” Avrum asked calmly.

“He said it meant, ‘What are you reading?’ ”

“Ah, yes,” Avrum whispered. He nodded with his body again, his forehead furrowed in thought. Then: “And did he tell you who I am?”

“Well, yes, sir. Before now, I mean.”

Avrum sat forward on the edge of his bench and glared at Harry. He said in an angry bellow, “My name is Avrum Feldman and I am the crazy man! I am meshugge!”

Harry was leaning against an oak, his arms wrapped around his chest. He was laughing uncontrollably. Little strings of tears streamed from his eyes.

I was terrified. I stood.

Avrum again patted the bench beside him. “Come, come,” he said gently. “Sit down.”

I sat again.

“And you are the boy of the South. Georgia.”

“Yes, sir. My name’s Bobo Murphy.”

“Irish?”

“I—I guess so,” I stammered.

“You do not guess. You should know,” Avrum said forcefully. “Tonight, you will write to your people, and you will ask them. You must know who you are.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry pushed from the tree and crossed to the bench and sat heavily beside me. He rubbed his face with his hands. Giggles rolled from him

“Got you, Avrum,” Harry said after a moment. “A good vitz, ja?”

“Schmuck,” Avrum hissed.

Ben Benton’s garbage truck passed on the street. It slowed and Ben stuck his head out of the window and looked at us in surprise. His hand flipped up in greeting. I wondered how we must have appeared to Ben.