Alive

SEAN CRAIG

O Two Moons publishing

two moons, inc

During the early 20th century Tuberculosis moved rapidly across the country like a plague.

Sanatoriums were built out in the dry west of the U.S to aid tuberculosis victims back to help before the development of antibiotics to fight TB. The Jewish Consumptives Society was founded in 1904 by Dr. Charles D. Spivak. For the next fifty years 10,000 Tuberculosis victims took refuge here at Spivak, Colorado. Many would enter it’s doors on their last leg in their battle with the plague.

Many people would die here, however some would find away to become alive.

10457 Margaret Sharp

1

Denver.

E

yes open. An unseen force moving the hills as if they were the sea. A calm breeze flowing touching my cheeks. Rosie tucked within my grasp, her fabric arms dangling to the ground. This would be my new home. No more crowded rooms or busy streets. No more more musky loudness filling my ears.

Only peace. “Margy come back to the car!�

Eyes open, another memory lost in another dream.

What was it about? All I can remember is the moving hills. Maybe it was of Kentucky. I barely remember those times in which I lived there. I was only ten. My father was a ranch supply salesman there, I remember him coming home tired and grumpy.

2

Sometimes, though, he would hold my hand and tell me that someday I would be the worlds “hel likht 1 .�

The train car rattled.

I wonder where we are. I pulled the window shade and let it open upward. It was late afternoon wherever we were. I could see grass flowing outside. Not the same grass in my dream; this grass seemed more wild, almost as if it never had been touched. In the distance , purple ragged rocks jut out of the horizon.

Mountains. We must be near.

It was almost six days now since I left Witchita Falls, and I already missed it. Autumn would be approaching soon and with it the crop would be ready to harvest. I always loved working in the fields, at least before all of this began. I close the blind.

1 Bright light

1

Denver.

Looking up the train car you only saw a couple heads over the seats. Most people were hunched over or asleep. Coughs echoed down the train car, almost as a constant momentary reminder of why we were are all here. This is no vacation. The car rattled again. At least I had a seat to myself. Many of the men sat in the same seat, making it difficult to sleep. The car jerked suddenly left. The Tuberculosis patients were forced into the back train cars, if we coughed out of our window the disease would carry back behind us to other cars. The blind ignorance of some people.

I had my mother’s necklace in my hands. Rubbing it always seemed to make the pain recede. I know it’s crazy, but feeling her love in between my fingers seemed to cure me of this damn disease, if only for a moment. Looking across the aisle, I saw this older gentlemen and his wife asleep, their hands clasped. I

Margaret

4

wish I could feel that. Instead I sit here alone, holding a tarnished necklace, alone. Alone.

My eyes bolt open. I must have dozed off again. The train isn’t moving anymore, and I can see that the people in the front train cars and already moving past my window. We of course had to allow them to leave the platform before us monsters could come out and spread our plague. I grabbed the seat in front of me and slowly lifted myself out of my seat. I grabbed my peach suitcase from above and lowered it on the seat.

Some of the patients looked at me with awe to the fact I could even get up without help. I wasn’t going to be that weak. I wasn’t going to let this disease

keep me that far down. I open the briefcase and grab my papers. I snap my briefcase shut just as the train car door opens and a man with a mask over his face peers into the train car, “Jewish Consumptives Relief Society patients will be meeting Mr. Blumberg at the end of the platform, if you need assistance please raise your hand and one of his assistants will aid you.

I pushed forward with a couple others, mostly men, to the front. The coughs increased as people began to wake up from their slumber. We walked towards the door, a cool dry breeze hitting my face. For a second I remember my dream once again. I take a step, it vanishes from my mind. The light blinds me as I step out into my new home, Denver.

1

Margaret

Denver.

The air is the first thing you notice. Living in Texas, you grow used to the heavy heat in the air, almost as if the air itself is alive. I remember every pageant I entered, pattering the thick make-up over my sweaty brow. I remember running down the driveway and covered in dirt and sweat before I made it to the mailbox. This air was thin and cold almost as if these people were living in the clouds. This is why Colorado is where the sick go, to live in the clouds.

Mr. Blumberg, a stout man, broad mustache. His friendly face looks at me over his eyeglasses, a judging but calming look. At his side two nurses, both men, looking slightly bored. It was quickly becoming nighttime outside of the station.

6

“Hello ladies and gentlemen. If you could please stand over here we will quickly do a roll call to make sure how many of you enjoyed this journey”, a sensible smile gleaming on his face.

The train station was inside a smoke filled building. It was hard to not cough. The pain shot up like a boiling soup into my lungs. A tear running down my face.

Somebody touches my arm. Mr. Blumberg looking into my eyes, his emerald eyes twinkling under his circular metal framed glasses.

“I understand. Don’t worry, we will be brief.” With this he handed me his handkerchief.

Another round of coughing came quickly as I buried my face deep into the silk. I wasn’t alone, as many of the fellow patients soon were sputtering in the densely smoggy station. However, soon we were

all shuffling through the doors outside to the bus that was waiting for us. The breeze blowing away the smoke from around us. Nighttime had arrived.

However, you could hear the openness around us, even in the city. The buildings here are smaller, I can only see the nearby ones. We quickly shuffle onto the bus amidst the stares from nervous people on the sidewalk. The doors cling close. I sit alone again, however this time I am in the company of friends.

2

Margaret

123 pounds

S

pivak, Colorado wasn’t far from Denver.

It was actually a nice ride. Margaret peered out the window, seeing the oil lamps burning in many of the buildings. These people didn’t yet have electricity in their city. It reminds me of the ranch. This place was wild. Even during the small trip I can see the outlines of trees littering the landscape. Everyone is perplexed as well. Many, I assume, are from big cities out east where even seeing a tree is rare.

8

We arrive. The front doors of the bus open and the two nurses begin helping the sick exit. For some reason I grow anxious. The last week I had tried to imagine the moment I would see my new home, and I never thought it would be at night. Now my mind raced over the possibilities of what it was going to look like. All I could see was a couple lit windows between the trees, and nothing more.

Once outside we all began looking around, excited at what we were going to see. A huge building stood over us like a towering castle. “Alright everyone, first we will be bringing you inside our main building, Texas . We will finish registering you all in and then we will show you to your room. I understand it has probably been a long journey for you all.� Blumberg gave the same smile that Margaret saw before.

2

123 pounds

Finally they all walked up the road a small way and approached the huge doors that led into the corridor.

There was another nurse waiting there, this one a woman. She looked very happy to see all the new patients looking up at her.

“All gentle ladies, Ms. Moen here will assist you in registering. All men, you can follow me,” with this the male nurses opened the doors, and Blumberg and the young female nurse went inside with the patients shuffling behind through the double doors.

The inside is amazing. A huge corridor with a couple tables set up with a pair of nurses standing behind, gazing at the new patients with smiles on their faces.

The coughs echoed off the walls and reverberated along with the sound of their footsteps. It took about thirty minutes until they called my name.

Margaret

“Hello, you’re Margaret Sharp?”

“Yes I am.”

“It says here you are 19, is this correct?”

“Yes ma’am it is.”

“If you could please take off your shoes stand on the scale over here.”

I was always embarrassed during this part. In the Texas Sanatorium I thought I would be a healthy weight and come to find out, I was much less. You really don’t come to terms with reality until reality is presented to you like a dead rat. 100. 110. 120.

Maybe it would be normal. 130, the needle stopped.

My heart plunged. I was 132 at the Texas Sanatorium.

The nurse began flicking the next slider even more quickly than the first, she could see my obvious disappointment.

10

“123 pounds,” said the nurse as she typed it onto my registration form. My head fell in shame.

“Alright I’m almost done here, just have to copy some things from your application,” she said clicking away at the typewriter. I stood there shifting back in forth in my seat trying not to cough. I was already embarrassed I refused to show weakness. “Alright you will be staying in the women’s ward bed fifteen. If you wait a few more minutes we will guide you and the rest of the ladies. Thank you Margaret and enjoy your stay with us,” she smiled at me as a hotel owner would.

120

110

100

130

140

2

123 pounds

I rose up and walked over to a bench with another girl.

“You know what this reminds me of?” the girl said suddenly looking at the ground. “This reminds me of the army registration for the War. When I was a nurse I weighed 145 pounds. Now look at me, not even 120,” she began coughing into her hand.

“You’re still beautiful. Don’t let these metal instruments tell you otherwise.” I replied as I looked her in her eyes.

“Thank you for saying that,” she said beginning to smile. “My name is Gavriel,” She held out her hand.

“Nice to meet you Gavriel,” I reply shaking her hand “Margaret.”

“I don’t know why your telling me I’m beautiful, look at you. You’re beautiful.”

Margaret

12

“I’m nothing compared to how I was,” I look down at my thin pale hands.

“Model?”

“Yes how did you know?”

“I could see it in your face. You are lovely looking.”

For some reason her comments didn’t help my mood. I used to be lovely. I used to be something. I remember the day that I was telegraphed by an agent in California. I had dreams to move away, maybe to somewhere closer to the sea. I would imagine myself sitting by the beach in my custom one piece. I would have to hide my face with a hat and sunglasses incase of a passerby recognized who I was. The second that I found I had this disease everything changed. Now those dreams would never happen.

“Ladies we are finished if you would please like to follow me I will show you where you will be living.”

We followed Ms. Boen outside onto the dirt road.

We walked along the road. People were stretched out on the lawns talking. You couldn’t see them but you could hear their voices. The small brick buildings would come out of the darkness on either side. It was like walking down Main St.. The name of this place was Spivak, named after the doctor who founded it.

I had heard of this magical place from many at the Texas Sanatorium. I was lucky to be here.

However, I didn’t feel like I was lucky I felt like I was in another layer of hell. Ilana grabbed my hand and smiled at me in the dark, I smiled back. Maybe things would get better.

3

Love

T

he past days went by fast. When you live in such a strange new place every moment seems like a quick breath. I feel I am finally growing accustomed to the elevation.

Margaret sits in a wooden chair outside looking out to the mountains. In her hand lays Director of Social Services Ben Blumberg’s handkerchief. In her other hand she rubs a pine cone. Her gaze is far away, she, like many of the patients around her feels entranced by the sheer atmosphere of Spivak and it’s population.

The JCRS or Jewish Consumptives’ Relief Society was indeed a very different place. A last stop for many who suffered from Tuberculosis. Many would die here but many more would also leave it’s doors

Margaret

more alive than when they entered. Margaret would watch as the wild mice would run between the spots of shade. Hawks would fly overhead looking to find a straggling rodent. The sky would lie open the sun creating a brightness across everything. A cool breeze blows through. Margaret usually with her hair tied instead let it flow freely in the breeze. The occasional nurse would come up and ask Margaret if she is fine.

Margaret of course would be polite and tell them she is fine. The truth, however , does not match the smile on her face. Her coughing fits increas and her health and stamina drain with them. In fact, she could barely stand the pain, but the surroundings kept her mind from the place she was or where she may be going.

14

“Hello Ms. Sharp how are we filling today?”

“Hey Ms. Boen, I’m dandy.”

“I told you, you can call me Mary,” the nurse smiled taking a chair next to Margaret “So tonight we are having a class in the typesetting studio for those interested. I was hoping you would join us.”

“I don’t think so thank you though.”

“I think you would be surprised, you will probably really like it.”

The truth is Margaret probably wouldn’t like it. She was a true woman. The very thought of her behind anything mechanic was downright hilarious. Grease, dirt, metal. Not for her. No way.

3

Love

Margaret pushed the press down one more time. A breath leaving her lungs. Finished.

“Hey Margaret can you help me out over here,” a stout woman named Ilana called from across the studio.

A rush of excitement came to Margaret. The distraction didn’t have to end yet. She quickly jogged over between the tables and other presses.

“Neta was feeling ill and left me with five more poems here. I know you are quick.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll help.”

16

Margaret always felt like working with someone else just slowed her down. However, she loved picking out letters. She could remember the notes she would write to her imaginary friend Rosie when she was a young girl. She would carefully pick out what she wanted to say. Her mother would tell her that to be a princess you must write like one. She would write as proper as she could with the occasional misspelling.

“So those men were watching you earlier,” Ilana gestured to the empty letterpress next to her. “One of them stared at you for a good minute. Had to get a mop to clean the drool off the floor,” she giggled.

The truth was Margaret didn’t care. Her career was enough love for her and when that went it was almost like losing any possibility for love. No man could replace the feeling of modeling or acting had. No man could sweep this disease away with a kiss. In a fairytale life there could be love, in this life only pain.

It only took minutes to finish the remaining pages.

Disappointed, Margaret hung up her apron and grabbed her jacket. Walking out the door into the snow. The snow here is huge. Back home the flakes would come down hard and small. Here they floated like huge puff balls. Margaret was in-love alright, with this amazing place.

4

Grim

“H

ello, miss I was wondering if I could sit next you for a second.” Margaret blinked in the sun, some man was standing next to her with a cane in his hand. A smile on his face.

“I guess.” This better not be— “I just saw you sitting over here in the sun and thought I would join you. My name is Milton,” he held out his hand I didn’t take it.

“So Milton it was cold everywhere else in the room?

I must have found a good spot.” My eyes didn’t leave the window as I spoke.

He awkwardly withdrew his hand, “Well yes the room felt warmer over here. A little more pleasant.”

“Well then I shall move you can have my seat.”

I Begin to stand up.

“Now hold on miss I didn’t want to bother you. I was just trying to be polite.” He held up his hand.

I turn and look out at his outstretched hand, “Being polite would be leaving me alone sir. Don’t think I’m not on to your game because I am. I never knew this place to be a Gin Mill 2. However, seeing that flat tires 3 pay their time here I guess it must be.”

Milton sat there for a second surprised at the response. His face contorted with confusion. “Well I be a damned. Try to have some respect for a young Jane 4, but she would rather sit with the reaper than sit with me. Fine than have your way with old Grim I will leave you to it.” With that Milton reached for his cane when he began spurting out coughs. They began to ring across the room.

2 A bar 3 Dumb witted men 4 woman

Margaret

18

Oh great, now everyone in the room is looking. Now I have this man in fits.

Margaret looked over as Milton was curled over in pain his hand cupping over his mouth with a stained handkerchief hanging. She could see drips of blood on the back of his hand. She suddenly felt very sad for this gentleman. She quickly grabbed her tea that was still steaming and handed it to Milton.

“Breath this in.” He looked at her in surprise and coughing began to lessen.

Milton suddenly stood up with his cane, coughing and walked across the room. Margaret sat there surprised, tea still in her hand.

“Hey Margaret what did that man want?” Gavriel asked walking over, with a smile across her face.

“Oh you saw that did you?”

4

Grim

“I think the whole room saw that. Why did he storm off like that?”

“How should I know? Men.” “He looked kinda of handsome to me,” replied Gavriel winking at Margaret.

“Well than you should go out to town with him!”

With that Margaret rose up and went out the door tea cup still in her hand.

These people just don’t understand me. They don’t care that I may die at any moment. This isn’t some play this isn’t going to get better. We are not here for sing-alongs. We are here to—the word couldn’t materialize in her mind. The truth is I’m afraid. I’m sitting here staring death in the face and everyone is clapping hands and singing. I don’t belong here.

Margaret reached the women’s ward, opened the door and slipped inside.

Margaret

20

It’s not like he wasn’t a handsome man, he was. But it would be a joke. Besides the rules of this place forbid messing around with the other sex. I am not willing to lose all this over some fling with another corpse.

Margaret fell on her bed and closed her eyes.

5

Ofra

T

he camera flashes. I keep smiling. Everyone is beaming up at me. It is my special day after all, pink dress with a white ribbon across my waist to match the ribbon in her hair. Another flash followed by applause. Holding flowers in my hands. I have just won the Miss Dallas Pageant. Mamma looks up at me smiling tears streaming down her face. A whooshing sound comes from behind. Now I am sitting in a car.

It is nighttime outside. I feel someones hand on my shoulder. I look up as my mother looks down tears still flowing down her face with the same reassuring smile. I close my eyes and now I’m in an old rundown kitchen. My father calls his dry raspy voice echoing off the hollow walls, “Margy come here.” I walk through the door into the living room. His voice comes from his bedroom, “Margy I am dying. I lov—” Explosive coughs began echoing loudly around me.

They seem closer to me , almost as if they are next to me. I began hearing screams.

“Margaret!”

Margaret

Margy i am dy

22

Margaret’s eyes dart open. Leah, a small Polish woman, was shaking her wake.

“We need help, Ofra is coughing up blood. We can’t get her to stop shaking. You are the quickest out of all of us you need to go get a nurse!”

Margaret didn’t waste time, she immediately rose up and ran to the door and swung it open only catching a quick glance of woman around Ofra, who was still lashing around as some of the women tried to constrain her the best the could.

ing.

i love

Biting cold engulfed her as she set foot into the snow. She had forgotten shoes. That didn’t matter though she had to get help. Margaret ran to the nearest building where there was a nurses station. She reached for the doorknob but the door opened before she even touched the door knob. A man with a bushy mustache begins walking out and sees Margaret standing there in her gown.

“Whoa! Hello there. What are you doing up at this hour. Aren’t you cold out here?”

Margaret didn’t realize how she couldn’t breath until that moment. This damn elevation.

“Need—help,” she could feel the coughing coming “women’s—” the coughs begin leaking out of her.

Before collapsing the man drops his bag and catches her and slowly lowers her to the ground.

Margaret

24

“Ma’am breath,” he began reaching for his bag.

Margaret grabs his hand to stop him. She points weakly towards the woman’s ward where oil lamps are now being lit in the windows. The man looks up and finally understands. Quickly he took off jacket and put it over Margaret, opens the door and yells in, “nurse phone in, we need assistace in the Woman’s Ward. There is a young lady out here please escort her to my office to warm up. With this he nodded to Margaret, grabbed his bag and ran down to the woman’s ward building. The nurse came out only moments later and glanced at the woman’s ward building. She quickly helps Margaret up and brings her to a bench in the hallway of the building.

“Wait here I have to make this call,” Margaret chuckled, she wasn’t going anywhere.

5

Ofra

The nurse sounded distressed as she called in to the main building and reported what was happening in the women’s ward. Margaret looked up at some of the frames on the opposite wall. One had seven smiling men around a bed. Another was a man with glasses and a bushy mustache, different than the man that she just ran into.

“Are you alright can you breath?” the nurse returned and was kneeling next to her.

“Yes just fine. Can I please get a towel? My feet are freezing.” The nurse looked down and gasped.

“I am so sorry I didn’t notice. You poor thing.” She quickly ran into the room next to the bench and came

Margaret

out with and towel and began drying Margaret’s feet.

I would stop her usually but I think this time I’ll make an exception and let her. I hope Ofra is ok. I haven’t seen anyone die. Death is like a cloud that you hope blows around you, never over you.

Outside shuffling could be heard as nurses and doctors ran by the door.

What if her husband knows. What will he do. They came here together just a month after me, and she’s already—no that is no way to think. She will probably be fine, that gentlemen looked more than capable of helping her. “ Do you think your ready to walk?”

26

“Yes I think so,” Margaret rose and allowed the nurse to lead her into an office two doors down. The room was very full of papers and books. Two huge padded chairs sat before a wooden desk. Another big chair lay behind that with more books behind. The nurse brought some blankets to help cover Margaret.

Outside voices could be heard. One man’s voice was screaming over all else. Margaret could just barely make out the words.

“No she can’t be– check–No NO NO. Oy-yoy!5 Not my dear Ofra.”

A tear fell silently down Margaret’s cheek.

How long until I am next? Who will be there when I? The empty darkness, illuminated by the lamp, left Margaret alone for what seemed like an eternity with her thoughts. Finally the front door opened.

Oy-yoy!

“Is she-?” the nurse said from the hall.

“Yes. Please go and help the other nurses in the women’s ward,” she heard the man from earlier answer, his voice sounding exhausted.

He appeared in the doorway, “Oh I forgot I had told you to wait here. I am sorry I was long.” His eyes shifted to the ground as he walked in and went to the other side of the desk. He opened one of the drawers and produced a large bottle with amber glowing liquid. He turned around rummaging on the shelf for glasses. “You drink?”

Margaret was never one to drink any liquor. Tonight could be an exception.

“Sure,” she weakly mumbled.

5 Yiddish exclamation of sorrow

5

Ofra

The man came around to he other chair and slowly lowered himself down into it. He filled up both glasses with the liquor and passed Margaret one with much less than the other.

“Is she dead?” The question exploded out of her mouth from deep inside. The doctor lowered the bottle to the ground and took a long sip from his glass. A whole minute passed before a word was said. Margaret could still here talking outside in the distance, one voice still ringing now much farther away across Spivak.

“Yes. She passed moments after I had arrived. I was able to inject her with morphine to help reduce the pain. as she went”

Margaret

I surprisingly didn’t cry. I did what I could. There was nothing more I could have done. I couldn’t have run faster. I couldn’t have communicated with the nurses quicker. What truly saddens me is Ofra’s husband.

Now destined to fight this disease alone. Just like me.

“You helped her at least pass in peace. Because of your quick action she was able to pass on to our ancestors in some comfort.”

I took a sip of the liquor and coughed. Disgusting.

The man chuckled.

“My name is Harry Schwatt. What would be your name miss?”

“Margaret Sharp are you a doctor?”

28

“ I was a few years ago,” he took a long swig of his drink. “I am the Director of Medical now.”

“Oh I had no idea.”

“Yeah they keep me in this office now more than out there. In some respects it’s better this way. I can now objectively help all of you here without letting my feeling get in the way. But that doesn’t stop the pain of tragedies like tonight,” Another couple of minutes passed as they both sat in silence, it began to snow outside. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Margaret you acted heroically tonight. I’ll have Ms. Austin

walk you back to your ward. You can keep the jacket tonight I will come and collect it some time. Also please take some slippers from the nurses station before trudging out there again.”

Margaret walked out of the office as Dr. Schwatt flicked on another oil lamp and began writing on a paper laying on his desk. He looked up, “Gay ga zinta hate 6.” Margaret nodded with a smile and walked to the front door. The nurse returned with slippers and led Margaret out the door. At a brisk pace Margaret returned to her ward knowing tonight there would be no sleep for any of the woman.

6 Go in good health

6

The end.

T

he darkness began to give way to light.

Everywhere in the room Margaret could see the women lay in the beds, eyes open. No sleep took place.

Their friend was dead. Her bed lay naked of sheets crooked due to her struggle. No one said a word. No one needed too. Last night death visited and only took one of them. The same question possessed all their thoughts. Who would be next.?

Breakfast wasn’t any better many of the men ate as if nothing occurred the night before reading their newspapers and engaging in pointless conversation.

Lavi wasn’t there. Whispers said that he had gone with his wife. Margaret stared down at her eggs and grits and pushed them around idly with her fork.

Food for the sick. Suddenly, she got up and walked out into the cold.

Margaret

30

The snow had stopped falling last night. A blanket of white covered the grounds with trails of foot prints crisscrossing between the buildings. Margaret looked over to the woman’s ward and saw the lumps in front of the building alluding to the activity there the night before. Margaret kept walking west towards the snow capped mountains in the distance.

6

The end.

How long would it take to reach them? Days? Weeks?

Margaret began to feel a slight pain in her chest.

The cold burned with every breath. She didn’t care though. The pain in her lungs was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. She walked past the perimeter posts into the adjacent field. The road that ran through was a wet brown slush. Margaret walked on letting her slippers slip into the mud. The pain grew in her chest, she ignored it.

Margaret

32

What if I just died out here in the wild? No tears. No screams. Just silently passed into the other side.

Suddenly she feels a pain rise in her chest. Shocked she slips and falls into the mud. She attempts to breath but the breaths won’t come. Paint overtakes her. The world darkens. The cold covers her. Isthis finally the end. Out here in the mud like some vermin. Margaret Sharp the beautiful star now dead as a nobody In the street. Panic began to set in. Pain began to take over all consciousness.

I’m not ready. I can’t die like this. What will my mother and aunt say? My uncle will cry when he hears his little angel is dead. I am not alone. They care. My mom won’t survive long without me . Her daughter dead covered in Colorado dirt.

7

Snowflakes

I

always hate it when my parents fight. My father’s voice booms through the thin walls.

“It’s not my fault! I’m trying to support us to your damned standards!”

“Believe me, my standards are low.”

I heard his hand across her face from my room. There was a silence. I sat upright in my bed I heard the front door open and slam. I jump out of bed and open the door to the hall.

Whiteness.

Margaret

34

god Eyes open. Light. A man’s face. Hazel eyes. God...

I reach up, my hand touches his face.

7

Snowflakes

Darkness. Years pass. No end.

Suddenly I am in my bed again. I feel the sense of déjà vu. Didn’t this already happen? My mother grabs my arm softly. I am shocked but I let her pull me up. She combs her fingers through my hair. “Hello princess,” my mother says softly.

I launch myself around her neck. Tears stream down my face into her hair.

“I am sorry mommy I don’t want you and father to fight because of me.”

“You, sunshine, are the only reason for both of us.

Don’t take this on yourself. Now I need you to come with me. We need to go visit your auntie in Texas.”

“I don’t want to.”

Margaret

“Baby, I need you to be strong for me right now.” She moved the hair out of my face.“I promise I’ll let you ride the horsies there this time. A smile spread across my face. I grab her hand as she leads me out of the house. I walk out the front door, my jacket already on. Snowflakes touch my face. I blink. A hollow feeling overcomes me suddenly.

My eyes open. The room I stand in is dark. Paint peels off the walls. Dust hangs in the air. The wooden floor is splintered and there are planks missing everywhere. I take a step.

*

Milton 26

36

The floor boards break and I free fall down.

The air rushes in my chest.

8

Brightness.

I open my eyes. Brightness.

Margaret

38

A face with a medical mask looks down at me. He holds a long sharp tube in his hand. He jerks backward surprised to see me looking at him. The scene comes in and out of focus. Where is my mother? I couldn’t stop thinking. I remember suddenly white fields. Is that where me and her went?

Wait. Is that where I died?

The thought hangs in the air, unanswered.

One of the nurses says from right side, “Ms. Sharp,” I stare into the light above me allowing it to blind me. A burning sphere appeared where the orb is. Why can’t

I just go back? “ Miss Sharp,” the voice says louder this time. Tears begin to fill me eyes.

The doctor removes his mask. “Miss Sharp how are you feeling? Can you speak?”

The pain returns slowly like the tide, slowly growing in strength.

“I’m–I’m fine,” I reach up and close my eyes and cover my face. My eyes burn.

“I guess I’m alive,” the words leave my lips as I begin to accept that this can’t end that easy. No matter what I want this disease is in control, and not even I control my fate. I turn over away from the doctor and bury my face into blankets as I begin to cry.

9

numb

M

argaret turns over.

Whats going on outside?

She got out of bed. And walked over to the window.

Men’s voices echoed from just in front of the woman’s ward outside the window. “ He needs to get inside.”

“When did you find him here?”

“Only moment’s ago, I don’t know how long he has been out here.”

“Ok I will get a nurse, see if you can get him inside this building,” with that crunches of snow echoed as someone ran away.

Margaret moved to the door. She moved out into the hallway and walked towards the adjacent door that went outside. The door opened and an intense chill hit Margaret in the face bringing a shiver. She ran

Margaret

into the snow her socks instantly became drenched in the snow. A man was leaning over to pick up a man with blood on his face. The man looked up surprised.

“I’ll help you, let’s get him inside.”

The man didn’t say a word and nodded. They both grabbed the man under his shoulder and lifted him inside. Once inside they closed the door. Margaret’s body was numb from cold. She began to shake from

40

the shivering. The other man was exhausted and hunched over breathing extremely hard his hand grasping the wall. Margaret glanced down and saw the man’s face from her dream. Who is he? The blood still flowed on his face. Margaret bent over and wiped it away with her nightgown. Wait. It’s the man who stormed off that one day? What was his name?

Margaret had forgotten.

Nurses came quickly. They pushed a towel to his head.

Soon a stretcher appeared pushed by a third nurse.

Margaret was pushed back, her face blank with shock.

The limp man was picked up once a fourth male nurse came from the other direction at a run. The man wasn’t moving as they quickly carried him towards the men’s ward. Margaret sat there for a moment until one of the nurses put out her hands to help Margaret get up. Margaret lifted herself and slowly made her way up the stairs to the women’s ward.

She had to talk to him, she had to see him again.

10

Margaret

fear.

A

nother cold night, Margaret began walking. She made it all the way back to the women’s ward without a cough, a very rare occurrence.

In fact she felt happier and little more healthy. For some reason everything was going to be alright. She opened the door thinking back to her discussion with Milton in the dark. He seemed so helpless but yet strong. A feeling began to arise in her stomach. A feeling she hadn’t felt in years. Soon it was replaced with fear. This isn’t a place to feel this. We could die at any moment. This isn’t the way. She shook her head as she walked towards her bed. Finally a cough arose from within. Pain returning in the familiar way, Margaret lowered herself onto the bed and rolled over.

fear Eyes closed.

42

11 “M

dead.

ay I sit down?” Milton gestured to the seat next to themy table.

I smiled at him. “Of course you can.”

Milton slowly lowered himself into the seat, sighing as he let himself lay back into it.

“How are you doing?”

Milton smiled, “I’m actually doing much better. The doctor says that the worst may be behind me. I have had a headache since though. But I’m in good spirits.”

“That’s really good to hear.”

“How about yourself, anymore coughing attacks?”

Margaret

“No I think I’m getting better as well,” this was a lie.

“Miss Margaret Sharp?” a booming voice sounded from across the dining area. Margaret looked up just as a male nurse walked over slowly uneasy about something. Margaret raised her hand so the nurse could see her in the crowd of tables. “Miss Sharp I need you to come with me I have a very important message from home.

A low feeling arose in Margaret’s stomach. “Ok.” She rose up and followed the nurse leaving Milton alone with his food.

44

Margaret was ushered into an office that was in the same building as her meeting with Dr. Schwatt. This Margaret was ushered into an office that was in the same building as her meeting with Dr. Schwatt. This office was in the back of the building. While walking by she looked into Dr. Schwatt’s office but quickly realized he wasn’t there.

A worry was slowly building. What could anyone want to tell her? For some reason a worry for Milton formed in her mind.

That couldn’t be it, they don’t even know we know each other. Well unless—

11

dead.

Walking by the golden sign to the office Margaret quickly read, “Director of Social Services.”

“Hello Miss Sharp come on in and have a seat. Can I interest you in any chocolate I just received some from my wife a few days ago.”

“No thank you,” Margaret weakly said lowering herself slowly into the wooden chair.

“Miss Sharp my name is Ben Blumberg I am director of Social Services here. Please forgive me for getting straight to the point but I feel in these situations it is best. Yesterday we received a telegram from your mother in Texas,” he paused for a second hesitant to continue. “Your uncle Joseph has perished.”

A silence hung in the air.

Margaret sat in shock, question racing in her mind.

However, she could speak.

Margaret

Uncle is dead. He was so healthy too. He was able to keep the farm running almost by himself. No he too has left this world.

No tears came only a hollowness. Coughs quickly begin to rise from within again. This time though I cannot hold them back. The pain grows as the coughs build pressure.

Not this time. I won’t let these coughs take me in this moment. These damned coughs won’t rule this moment. I won’t lose to the pain.

Tears began to gather in her eyes from the pain.

Blumberg noticed and moved around the desk to comfort Margaret mistaking the tears of physical pain with those of emotional pain. She pushed him away and moved for the door.

46

Coughs exploded the second her hand touched the doorknob. She fell over bracing herself on the ground as the coughs tore at her throat. Tears streamed down her face. Blumberg was shocked but quickly regained himself. He walked over and put his hand on Margaret’s back. It’s ok dear. Let it all out.

It’s my fault. I left, momma and auntie had to work harder in the home leaving uncle with more responsibilities on the farm. It’s no surprise he fell. It’s my fault and I can’t help, I can’t escape. I am prisoner to this fucking disease and there is no going back.

Everything is dying and I am dying with it.

Anger began to rise in Margaret as her coughs began to lessen. Suddenly she growled at Blumberg, “Get your hands off of me. Leave me alone.” She rose up and saw blood splattered all over the door from her earlier cough. The anger disappeared into sadness.

I’m going to die in these walls while my life out there slowly crumbles to nothing.

She opened the door and before Blumberg could say anything she slammed it.

12 L

Helpless

ooking across the fields Margaret lets her hand roll a piece of ice into an elongated ellipse. She yearned to run away again. However, the memory of the mud and and the blood brought fear to her heart. Helpless and alive or helpless and dead. Joseph was like a father to Margaret. When mother and her had arrived on his doorstep in the dead of morning, he let them sleep in his bed. He raised Margaret to be a strong girl and to not take any shit from anyone. However, he always allowed her to leave for pageants and rehearsals for weeks at times. He was like a father.

Margaret

48

Now he is dead.

I want to run but I know I can’t get far. I want to fly but I know that time has not come yet.

A rabbit jumped through the snow only ten feet in front of her. It skipping between the small snowdrifts skillfully. It disappears under the building. For some reason, unknown to Margaret a smile slowly spread across her face.

13 A

life.

new year had begun. Margaret went to the party and actually enjoyed herself. However, now she sat alone in the library looking out the window wondering if her mother and aunt were holding up alright. Margaret had sent a telegram assuring her mother that she was fine and she hoped them the best through the winter. She tried to get a ticket to Texas but that damn Blumberg wouldn’t allow it.

Yesterday another woman perished in her sleep. This one at least was not in her room. Her name was Anna, Margaret had never met her.

Margaret

50

So much death here. It is impossible to be prepared for the amount of loss.

Milton hadn’t been out and about in days. I tried to see him but I was stopped at the door by a nurse and I haven’t tried since. I hope he is holding on to faith.

But really I couldn’t blame him if he isn’t.

“Hello Margaret how are you doing today?” Dr. Shwatt sat down next to her.

13

life.

“Hey Harry. I am fine just thinking about everything,” she looked down at the floor.

“Well don’t think too much now, it can make things much more difficult. I should know” He looked up out of the window.

“Have you ever lost someone?”

Dr. Shwatt didn’t answer at first. “When I first arrived in Colorado with my wife and son we were excited for what the future held.”

A few moments of silence followed. “What happened.”

“That first winter Jakob became sick. We found out very soon that it was Tuberculosis and that it had already massively deteriorated his lungs. He died March 4th two years ago.”

“I’m incredibly sorry to hear that it must have been really hard. for you”

Margaret

“It was at first.” He turned and looked Margaret in the face. “But I survived, my wife survived, we moved on. I began working here two weeks after. I feel like through what I do I am doing his memory justice.” A few moments passed with Margaret now looking into the ground. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Keep living your life for them. If you stop to consider death then death has won.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he chuckled “Well I have to get running my wife is expecting me to be on time for dinner for once.”

With that he rose up and walked away.

He is right. I can’t focus on death I have to focus on this life.

52

Suddenly somebody else touches Margaret’s shoulder startling her into a fit of coughs.

“I’m so sorry ma’am I didn’t mean to scare you I didn’t know if you were asleep or not,” a female nurse says looking concerned. “Uhm a telegraph has come in for you I’ll take you to Blumberg’s office quickly to retrieve it now.”

The sickened scared feeling returns.

14

Margaret

nightmare

M

argaret stared down at her hands.

Tears did not come. However inside Margaret felt the stabbing pain. Her aunt had gone missing.

Her mother had urgently telegraphed Margaret to asking for her assistance. Marharet could only picture her mom trying to keep the farm operating while looking for her aunt.

54

Suddenly, an anger rose from inside. Before Blumberberg could stop her, Margaret threw open the door and stormed outside. She didn’t know where to go. She didn’t care. She just had to get out of those old buildings. She walked aimlessly until she found herself in front of one of the men’s ward. She ran up the steps coughing slightly as she tore open the door.

A couple of men startled began coughing and a few even sat on their beds. She looked at the beds. He wasn’t there. She walked on through the open door into the next room.

15 “M

farm

argaret slow down,” Mary Boen yells from behind Margaret.

Margaret quickly spun around to yell something back but begins coughing. She bends over on the ground in pain. Her eyes close. The nurse kneels next to her and puts her hand on her back.

“Margaret this has to stop. You can’t blow up like that.

In your—” Margaret’s coughs increased momentarily then began so slow again. “Whatever Ben told you in his office. It can’t be your problem right now. Right now you need to worry about your health no—” “Shut up. You don’t understand what it feels like to

Margaret

have your life torn apart in front of—” the coughs came back again gurgling blood and spit in Margaret’s throat. Her eyes closed in pain.

“I do. As you may have realized I too have the same plague that ails you. And my son lives with his drunk for a father in California while I stay here trying to do the best I can.” Margaret’s coughs begin to dissipate and she looks up. “Margaret we all know what pain is here and we all know that there is nothing we can do about it. But to let that rule over our actions here and to let it destroy us then—well then the battle is already lost Margaret.”

56

Margaret knew she was right. However, that didn’t change the fact that her aunt was lost somewhere and her mom was without her only daughter and sister somewhere scared. Margaret rises up and wipes her tears away and begins to walk to her ward not looking back at her nurse. She had to sleep. That was going to be the only way she was going to escape this nightmare was to sleep.

16 *

father

*

M

argaret’s finger traced her face in the old black and white picture. She sat in her favorite rocking chair in the living room of her aunt’s farm. Today was the day she had to go back to Colorado. Margaret already cried but she knew even in the month of being back that she was suffering in this climate. Her mom whistled a song in the kitchen as the smell of freshly made pancakes floated into the living room. They had found her aunt only a week ago in Dallas. She was a mess. She had been drinking herself dry of her money and was in jail after arguing with a bartender. She had been in bed since. Her mom attempted to sweat out all the liquor. Her mom knew how to handle a drunk.

Margaret’s mom entered the room. “Hey sweetie, are you ready for your train?”

* Margaret

*

58

*

*

“As ready as I’ll ever be ma. Why can’t you two just come with me to Colorado?”

“You know why.” Her mom lowered the pancakes on a nearby table, bent over and kissed Margaret’s forehead.

“This farm isn’t any good for you guys anymore.”

“It may not be Margy, but it is the only this you auntie has left. Without this farm she has nothing. Now eat up you have a long ride ahead of you.”

Her mom walked back into the kitchen to clean.

Margaret couldn’t eat, the coughing left a terrible taste in her mouth that made everything taste sour.

This place was her home but now it isn’t. Spivak isn’t either but at least there she wouldn’t be in pain.

Margaret put the photo into her pocket with the thought of ever being her old self again.

*

17

Margaret

dripping and splashing

I

t is my birthday. I run around my home looking for my mom and my auntie. I notice the front door is open, I through it. My mom and aunt are standing next to a beautiful dress laid on the truck hood. My uncle snaps a photo as I explode into screams, “You got me the dress mama!” I grab the dress and dance with it in the sunlight, a smile across my face. The scene twists into darkness.

The train car thrashes suddenly smooths out.

“Here Margaret you have a letter here from your father,” my mother hands me the letter slowly. She watches as I tear the letter open. I haven’t seen or heard from her father in years.

60

Dear Margy I hope this letter is received by you on you birthday.

You’re becoming a woman. I miss you so much everyday. I write you because I wish to see you soon. As you can see from the postmarking I am in North Carolina now near where you were born. I would love for you to come visit, it is so beautiful out here. Please return your reply as soon as you can. I wish you a very happy birthday and I hope to hear from you soon.

Love, Papi

17

Margaret

dripping and splashing

I begin coughing, my eyes open. It was morning and many of the other passengers were asleep still.

Margaret looked at the photo in her pocket.

I was so close. So close to being somebody. Until it was ruined. Until I was ruined.

Margaret’s eyes slip closed again.

62

The taxi stop in front of an old cabin. This couldn’t be it. I check the envelope again. It is right though. I close the taxi door behind me as it speeds away. I walk up to the front door when it opens.

My father looks out looking years older than my memories. A gaunt pale face covered in stubble. His green eyes behind glasses. His happiness barely shows through the obvious pain. He coughs into a blood stained handkerchief as I slowly walk up to him. I throw my arms around him tears streaming down my face. He holds me in his arms again as he did years and years ago. His warm embrace surrounding me.

17

Margaret

dripping and splashing

Margaret’s eyes opened, the train still moving silently.

She reached up and feels real tears on her cheeks. She brushes them off and remembers she still has the picture in her hand. She quickly puts it in her bag.

It is mid day now and outside there are green fields.

Summer is approaching and with it the biting cold of the Rockies would be disappearing soon. I had survived the winter, many hadn’t, but I had.

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18

Margaret

music.

M

argaret forgot how long the train ride would be. It was nighttime again, and her eyes began to close. She was afraid of her dreams.

She didn’t want to see the past she didn’t want to see what she was leaving.

66

His home is disgusting. Plates and glasses are everywhere, dirty with food from days and weeks past. The whole place smells of old cigarette smoke.

Suddenly aware of the mess my father begins to collect dishes and move old newspapers as he walked me into the dining area. My father is weak looking.

Not the same strong man that would give me rides on his shoulders years ago This man isn’t the strong healthy man he was. He is lesser now.

“You look so beautiful baby girl,” he says pilling the dishes into the sink and turning around. “Are you sure your my daughter?” He gives a dry laugh that ended in coughs. I weakly smiled my hat still in my hands.

“Oh child have a seat we need to catch up.” He pushes more dishes and two huge ashtrays filled to the brim away from one of the old cracked wooden chairs. He takes a car part off of one of the other seats and sits down gleaming across the table at me as I sit down slowly, fearing the chair would break.

“That’s good.” A couple more moments of silence. “ I’m so glad you came to visit Margaret. I really wanted to see you.” His voice cracked on the last word.

“Think nothing of it papa I missed you.” I smile to him looking into his pained eyes.

He smiles back.” I know I look like shit. I haven’t been well these days.” The smile leaves his face as he looked down at his hands. I look too; his purple veins wrapping like a spider web all the way up his arms.

Margaret

68

Dried and cracked his skin looks like he hadn’t see sunlight for years.

“I prepared a bed for you in the other room. I would offer you my bed, but you know I wouldn’t want to get get you si—” he erupts in coughs. The coughs grow quite violent as he bends over. I catch a glance of the blood leaking between his fingers.

Darkness surrounds. A shriek like a whistle somewhere in the distance.

Margaret

70

A new scene materializes, I am washing dishes. I am still in my father’s dirty house, however now it is morning. The whistle comes back quickly and I look over to see a kettle whistling on gas stove. I quickly grab a towel and set the kettle on the other cold burner. Moans come from my father’s room, the kettle had woken him up.

I pour the hot water into a huge bowl. I remembered the bowl when I was younger. I turn around, holding the edges of the bowl carefully as steam rolls onto my face. I walk into my father’s room. It is much darker in here. An orange glow engulfs the whole room. Specks of dust floating like stars. A dank smell engulfes my nostrils the second I enter making my face contorts with disgust. My father lays in the middle of his bed in his pants. Shirtless. His wheezes lift up his chest slightly. His body, a skinny, sweaty, twisted mass of skin and bones. His ribs protrude slightly from his stomach. His blankets lay on the floor and he lay in a pool of his own sweat.

Margaret

72

He looks over,.“Hey Margy I was just dreaming about you baby girl.” I don’t say anything but put the big bowl carefully on the floor next to the bed. I turn to collect one of the blankets from the floor. “You know Margaret I never would have had things this way.” I bite my lip to hold back tears. I grab one of the blankets. “When I’m better I am going to make things alright, finally.” I put my hands out for my father to grab as my eyes shut to keep tears rolling out. I could feel an intense pain inside me as I felt my father grasp my hands lightly. I pull. He is so light. I wipe my face once he is sitting up, pretending it is to wipe away the sweat. I hand my father the blanket and he weakly raises it over his head giving me an intensly sorrowed look before lowering the blanket over his head. He bends over the steaming bowl breathing. Tiny raspy breaths leaving his mouth.

Tears roll down my cheeks and fall in drops on the floor. I don’t make a sound but instead look out through the blinds on the window. The sun blinds me as it leaks into the dark room. The coughs begin suddenly and I glance down to see chunks of blood falling into the water. My tears hit the wooden floor around the bowl like rain as blood falls into the hot water. The dripping and splashing are the only things I can hear as the whole scene grows darker.

Soon it is completely dark and all I can here was the dripping and splashing.

The whistle rings again. Margaret’s eyes open.

The room is made from bricks. It is barren except for a few tables and a huge furnace at one end. On the table in front of me a white cloth draped mass. “ I love you father.”

The whistle rings and the whole room slams to the side. Margaret’s eyes open, a nurse shakes her awake.

“Excuse me are you Miss Sharp?”

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“M

argaret ,” the voice whispers in the darkness.

Margaret’s eyes open. The voice had come from the open window across the women’s ward. She slowly rose out of bed and quickly walked over. Milton’s face looked up, he smiles when he sees her walk up to the open window.

“I hope I didn’t wake you. I was wondering if you would take a walk with me,” Margaret nodded her head with a smile. “I will be out in one second.”

Margaret

76

He held out his hand as they walked down the empty road outside. The spring air chilled her face but the night was warm. Margaret wondered where they were going as Milton turned towards the dining hall.

“I recently was promoted to a guide here,” he explained as he lifted a pair of keys from his suit jacket.

Margaret realizes she had never seen him more than a ragged shirt and pants. He looks rather handsome.

The door creaks open and Milton and Margaret walk in to the empty dining hall. Tables and chairs had been moved and there was now an open space in the middle. Milton let go of Margaret’s hand and went over to the phonograph. He clicked the switch and the record began spinning. Aaron Copland’s Ebony

Concerto rang across the hall. He leans his cane against the wall. It takes a few steps for his legs to adjust. However, soon he is moving.

Margaret smiles tears gather in her eyes as Milton walks over and grabs her hand. She brings her other hand up to wipe away the tears. Milton puts his other hand on her side. She loweres her hand to Milton’s shoulder and moves closer.

“I love you Margaret Sharp. I don’t know why, but you are the shining light in this dark place.”

Margaret begins to cry a smile gleaming across her face. She doesn’t say a word but put her head into Milton’s chest. She could hear his heart beat in rhythm with the beautiful music.

They danced for hours.

Margaret

78

not once did the music stop.

epilogue

The months moved on into warmer days. With the constant rising of the sun both Margaret and Milton grew healthier. They grew with each other’s secret love. No matter their past they knew that they would be together in the future. Milton and Margaret married on October 23rd, 1939. Margaret was forcefully discharged a month earlier due to a full miraculous recovery.

A 80

However, soon Milton would be at her side as he voluntarily left the Jewish Consumptive Refuge Camp to stay with her in Denver.

They both lived the rest of their long lives in Colorado never leaving each others side. They’re story is that of thousands who came to the Jewish Consumptives Relief Society and not only lived,

but came

alive.

A

Milton Shcacter was a real patiant at JCRS from 1938–1939.

He and Margaret Sharp really met there and would eventually marry in Denver. They are a testament to the possibility of love even in the worst situations.

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