With all my love as always,
ESTHER
AGRAMONTE
June 28, 1938
Dear Malka,
Isabel de la Fuente asked me to bring two or three designs for new dresses, but I got inspired and prepared four designs. Since I no longer had to sew multiple copies of the dresses, I had time to play around. I made a version of the wraparound dress with ruffles at the hem. For the dress with the buttons down the front, I made them with different collars and with different sizes of pockets in the front.
I folded the dresses neatly and Papa put them in his satchel. When we arrived in Havana, we confidently walked to El Encanto and didn’t hesitate to enter. Papa and I weren’t afraid of the elevator anymore! We went straight up to the fourth floor and found Isabel de la Fuente in the salon de señoritas.
“Buenos días,” she said. “You have come at the perfect moment. We just put a few of the dresses we made from your designs on display.”
She led us to a rack where the dresses hung from cushioned hangers. Then she pulled down a few dresses for me to see. There was the label she had promised: “Designs by Esther. Exclusively for El Encanto.”
I looked at the dresses and couldn’t believe how gorgeous they were! The fabrics were more luxurious than anything I ever could have imagined, some in fine cotton and some in silk. And the prices they were charging for the dresses! How could something I’d made with my own hands be worth so much money? I thought of Mama and how pleased she’d be. Then I felt sad. Only rich girls could afford the dresses I’d designed. But I consoled myself with the thought that the more money my dresses sold for, the quicker you would all come to Cuba.
“Did you bring new designs?” Isabel de la Fuente asked.
I nodded and she took us into an office filled with boxes of merchandise. There, I pulled out the sample dresses I had made.
She looked at them eagerly. “¡Divino! ¡Bellísimo!” she said as she examined each dress.
I had left the wraparound dresses for last. I pulled one out and showed her how easy it was to put on and tie around the waist.
“I love this style, like the white dress you wore last time.”
I was so proud she remembered my white dress.
“This dress style is original and very flattering. It will be a wonderful addition to the collection.” She smiled. “Next time you come, we will have these new designs on the rack.”
She gave Papa a thick envelope with some money, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Remember, we have to be careful. No one can ever know that a refugee girl designed these dresses. We would be in terrible trouble.”
Papa responded, “No one knows.”
“Very good,” she replied. “There are secrets that we keep to do good in the world. And this is one of those secrets.”
We said goodbye and headed to Rifka Rubenstein’s to put our money in her safe box. It was a lot more money than the last time, and as usual, Papa left all of it behind except for the small amount we needed to survive from day to day. I gave Rifka Rubenstein ten of the thirty dresses I had made for her to sell in the store, and she was very pleased I was still loyal to her.
Then we hurried back to Agramonte. I went to sleep dreaming about my dresses, in silk and fine cotton, hanging on cushioned hangers, all of them with the label “Designs by Esther. Exclusively for El Encanto.”
With all my love,
ESTHER
AGRAMONTE
July 19, 1938
Dear Malka,
Last month it was Shavuot, and Papa and I read the Book of Ruth. I read it again last night and thought a lot about it. When Ruth says, “Wherever you go, I shall go,” that is how I feel being here in Cuba. I’ve come to a strange land and am now a part of it. With our friends standing up for us here, creating the Anti-Nazi Society of Agramonte, and leading the strike of the sugarcane workers, I know there is no returning to Poland for me ever again. I think I should have been named Ruth, not Esther!
I spend a lot of my time when it is raining or too muggy outside copying out the poems from the book Simple Verses by José Martí. This way, I am learning them better and may even figure out how to become a poet someday!
Whenever I hold the worn book, I remember it was once held in Emilia’s hands, a girl who left the world too soon and will always be missed by her parents, Doctor Pablo and Señora Graciela.
How I wish I could write a poem for Emilia, telling her how she isn’t forgotten!
How I wish I could write poems that express all my feelings—happy and sad and everything in between!
These letters I am saving for you, dear Malka, are the best I can do for the moment. And in writing them, I’ve discovered what a comfort it is to keep a record of my life so it doesn’t feel like the days are blowing away in the wind and lost forever.
In the meantime, as my Spanish keeps improving, I marvel at the beautiful ways that José Martí says things. I have learned that for much of his life he lived in New York, not in Cuba, but he wrote in Spanish, not in English, just as I write in Yiddish, not in Spanish. I wonder if the first language you learn in life will always be the language of your deepest feelings, even if you learn other languages.
José Martí wrote many poems that are about poems, like this one:
¿Qué importa que este dolor
Seque el mar y nuble el cielo?
El verso, dulce consuelo,
Nace alado del dolor.
Who cares if this pain
Dries the ocean and dims the sky?
My verse, sweet consolation,
Is born from pain with wings.
What I know for sure is that these letters are born from pain with wings, because we are far away from each other. But these letters are also my sweet consolation as I wait for you and all my family to arrive.
From your sister, who wishes she were a poet,
ESTHER
AGRAMONTE
August 7, 1938
Dear Malka,
Today, on Tisha B’Av, the saddest day of the year, Papa is fasting in memory of the tragedy that took place long ago, when the two Holy Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed. Those were the first temples of the Jewish people. After they were lost, everyone fled in different directions and ended up in many parts of the world. I wonder how our ancestors found their way to Poland? I imagine them crossing forests of cedar, dusty desert roads, and deep oceans, and eventually settling in Govorovo. I am sure they thought we would be in Poland forever, not imagining we would one day have to leave and try to create a new life in Cuba.