I Was a Thief

This story won a prize of three thousand dollars, and the commentators said: "It contains the finest and most powerful analysis of the human soul."

How precious are the memories of childhood... and how happy are those who have sweet memories... As for me, I remember nothing but hatred and fear... a small girl, unwanted... and my mother a terrifying shadow, led by a shadow more terrifying still — my grandmother... her mother.

My grandmother hated all little children... and she hated me most of all — me, her only granddaughter...

I was obedient, and yet I was always punished... thrown into a dark corner and forgotten for hours... I would huddle on the floor, dying of terror at the darkness, then swear to myself that I would never anger my grandmother again... Even years after my grandmother died, I would scream in my sleep in a panic: "Please don't shut me up in that dark corner!"

My mother was different from her... I would have been ready to love her, had she listened to me... but she always kept a gulf between us... She worked in a sewing shop and I seldom saw her at home, and so my grandmother was the ruler... She had, as I pictured it, the strength of the very earth, so I never dared confess to my mother about the dark corner and my deadly terror...

I tried it once, when my mother came home one evening and I stood at the door of my room, the whole room between her and me, and I whispered... Oh, Mother, kiss me... She looked at me in surprise and said: Don't be silly — you're a big girl... Say your prayers and ask God to make you a good daughter, then go to sleep.

I turned six and was put in school, but I could not win the affection of my schoolmates... I said to myself: if only I had candy to offer to whoever would like me... but my grandmother never gave me a single piaster... and I dared not ask.

Then my chance came, for my grandmother once forgot her black money-purse on the kitchen table, and my heart began pounding violently at the idea — but I took. And everything I took turned into candy — sugared almonds, chocolate, and other things red and green and white — and I handed it out to my schoolmates, handed it out until I had kept only two pieces for myself... And my grandmother never noticed.

I did not touch the purse after that for a long time, but at school we agreed that each of us would treat the others in turn, and after some weeks my turn came. Every Saturday my grandmother went to a religious meeting... but would she leave her purse in the empty sugar tin in the cupboard? I went and set a chair and climbed up on it — and there was the purse... I took it down and opened it and reached in my hand — and her voice rang out like thunder: You thief! I looked, and there she stood, like a mountain in height and breadth... her eyes like two coals of fire... And I stood there, all six years of me, trembling from the hair of my head to the tips of my feet... She said: Go to your room, and you shall see.

She ignored me the whole day... no food, not a sip of water... I knew that stealing was a sin — one of God's commandments says so... that I deserved punishment. But why would she not punish me and put an end to my terror?

After five, in the dark, my mother came home, and my panic grew. Oh, if only they would punish me with the harshest punishment and end it all. I heard my grandmother in the next room say to my mother... She is Dan Morris's daughter — I warned you; do as you please!

And my mother whipped me and whipped... For the first time her usually frozen eyes blazed. She whipped me, crying out: You will not be like him... like him...

In the depths of my terror I understood that she meant my father — but my father was dead. The last thing I remembered was my grandmother's voice pounding on the door and shouting to my mother: Open up before you kill her.

For weeks the two of them treated me like a thief... Neither of them asked me why I had taken the money; rather they believed that something evil inside me had done it.

The wounds of my body healed, but my heart stayed bitter. I went on avoiding their glances, and I felt that my mother had begun to hate me as my grandmother hated me... Ah, the helpless, resourceless child in the world of grown-ups!!

I reached thirteen before I had a companion. My grandmother had died a year before, and I felt free — but though at home we had become a mother and her daughter, we remained far apart. And though I had forgotten the terrible punishment, I did not steal again until after I met Grace.

Grace was fat — so fat that we nicknamed her "the Cube"... but she was my first friend. How happy my heart was when we walked with her arm in mine, or when she whispered, laughing: Listen, Sandy, I have something to tell you: "Misery needs a companion" — and no one was more miserable than I.

Grace stole from the stores, even though her family bought her everything — so why...? The other girls had the good graces of the other sex; we had none... Were we trying to satisfy ourselves in that direction... or to avenge ourselves...?

So we went on stealing together... And whenever my mother was away from the house I would bring out my precious collection of stolen things...

A pair of earrings... cheap bracelets... beads... a can opener... picture cards, and more... Why did I keep all of these, put them in a little box that I would open and gaze at, then shut and put away in a safe place...? We were bound to be caught in some store, had what happened not happened... For one day I came home to find my mother holding the box, open. The flush of my face gave me away, but I screamed... You have no right to go rummaging through my things. She slapped me on the mouth and said: Where did these come from...? I want the truth... the truth.

I told her that Grace said they make no fuss over these little things, then added in panic... But I will never do it again, Mother.

My mother's gaze was fixed far away as she muttered: Another thief... another thief. Then she looked at me and said sadly: You are wicked, Sandy... wicked in the full sense of the word. Perhaps it is not your fault, but — you are fourteen today, and you understand what I say. Your father died when you were two... he died a thief, in prison.

Her sorrowing voice went on: "His name was Dan Morris... tall, handsome, always smiling"... Her voice grew tender, then hardened again: "But he was not good... My mother objected, but I married him. He was arrested before you were born, because he had embezzled large sums which I believed he was earning for us honorably. I told him I would not wait for him... and he died in prison, of pneumonia."

Her whipping hand lay on mine as she finished: I was always afraid you would be wicked, because the evil is in your blood. And after [...]

your father was buried, I wished you had never been born.

I implored her: "Oh, Mother, what shall I do?"

And for the first time in her life I saw her arms encircle me as she said: "I will help you, Sandy, and we will fight this together."

She rose and wrapped up the stolen things, each one separately, addressed each to the store from which it had been stolen, and sent it by mail.

She seemed to have found relief as she said: "You are not to see Grace again..." And I did not see her, for my mother moved us to the city of York and entered me in its high school, while she found work for herself.

We lived closer to each other than before... She talked with me often and sometimes took me to the movies; once she even put some money into my hand, saying: You may need it, Sandy. My face went red, for so it had been — take it, so that you will not steal.

We lived that way for two years, and my childhood past would have seemed a dream, had it not sometimes come back with its lure, and had I not sometimes been exposed to temptation — which I would overcome, feeling grown up, and then repeat within myself: "No — I will never steal."

The black shadow in my life was my father, and yet my mother did not mention him again until I turned sixteen... and turned to look at my first boy, my mirror having told me that I had become strikingly beautiful.

George was my first boy. He walked me home from school twice, then asked me to go with him to the movies, and I did. I did not tell my mother before going; instead I wrote her on a little slip of paper that I would be back, so there was no need to worry.

I came back, and she was waiting for me.

She seized me by the shoulders and shook me, asking: Were you with that boy? I said: "Yes, Mother, but nothing happened between us — nothing at all — I swear it to you on my honor."

Her eyes bored into mine and she whispered — a whisper more dreadful than screaming — she said: "On your honor? And what honor have you? You will not go about with this young man, nor any other; you will never marry anyone, lest you pass on the evil that is in you to your children... I will kill you before you do."

She was silent a moment, then whispered: Listen to me, Sandy — no boys, no marriage, no children. Do you understand? Promise me.

I was trembling with terror, picturing the dark corner in the dark room.

She said: "Promise me..."

And I promised — and only then did she turn gentle... I avoided George, and indeed all boys, until my schooling ended and I took a position in a certain company, and there I met Ross Helman.

He was twenty-three and I was eighteen — a girl who hurried home from work and rendered an account of every minute she had spent on the way.

He would whisper his sweet words in my ear whenever he found the chance, and our relations went no further than those whispers of admiration for which my fellow workers envied me — for Ross was the wish of every one of them.

He invited me to a dance and I refused, telling him that my mother would never allow it. He thought a moment and said: I'll send Aggie to you — pretend you're going with her to the movies...

And so it was... I put on my prettiest clothes, and my mother said doubtfully: "All this for a movie?" I answered — and what other occasion is there? — and I deceived my mother, because I loved

Ross as I had never loved a creature in this world. For he loved me and gave me back my confidence in myself. He was to leave the next day, to be away for weeks on business for his company, so I could not refuse his request.

And we danced... He kept teaching me how to move my feet, for I had never danced before. I clung to his arm as one in a dream and pressed close to him as he whispered: "Baby, let's get out of here."

We went to his room. I was a bundle of feelings; every fiber of me longed to love and to be loved... All the loneliness of my life, and all its pains, melted in his arms. I could sooner have halted fate in its course than halted Ross.

He went away, and weeks passed. I fainted at the company, and the doctor told me I was with child. I did not know what to do, so I went and told my mother... I was so stunned by what had happened to me that I no longer feared her... I heard my voice saying: "Perhaps you don't understand what this means... to love someone... You have always kept me in a prison."

She said, trying to master herself: "So — it has happened... Sandy, God will requite you, because you did not listen to me — as I did not listen to my mother!"

I felt her breath on my face as she said: I know how this happens — how one longs for a man. But I will help you; I will find a doctor.

I cried out in horror: "No... I will not kill my child."

She said, as though she had not heard me: I have some money, and no one will know. I will take you away and keep you in a safe place, so that this will not happen again. We will hide, and no one will trouble us anymore.

I looked at my mother; her eyes were like quicksilver in their sockets, and her every movement showed that she was... Oh my God — my mother had gone mad!

She left the room and kept its door locked on me all night long, and in the morning she brought me food, but I did not touch it. What was there to live for?... I would bear a child. And Ross did not answer me. And my mother was insane.

My mother went out in the afternoon and locked the door, saying in that same strange

voice: "I will find a doctor."

I would not have thought of going out even had she not locked the door — there was nowhere for me to go, and I no longer cared what became of me, whether I lived or died. Indeed, I may even have thought that I would die and my troubles would be over.

I heard the telephone ring beside me and did not move. The ringing kept insisting, so I took up the receiver — and there he was, speaking. He said: "Sandy — Aggie told me."

And I began crying out: Ross, there is a baby, and my mother has gone mad and has gone off to fetch the doctor, and the door is locked on me — please. Please...

He said quickly: "I'm coming" — and it was as if God Himself were coming to my rescue.

My mother returned, and I shouted at her: "He answers me — and he is coming!"

And she said, as if she had not heard: "I will help you... I won't let him marry you, so don't be afraid."

I cried: "But I want to marry him!"

She did not hear me that time either — but when the doorbell rang she opened it... I do not know what Ross had first intended, but when he saw my mother in that state he decided on the spot... He said: "I got you into this fix and I will get you out of it... I am the father of the child, and I am sure of it... and she is going to marry me, for I am no cad."

And my mother screamed, white foam on her lips, her eyes flashing like a raging beast's: "You will marry her only over my dead body... even if I have to tell you the truth—"

And I shouted at her: "No! No!..." But she did not hear me either... And I could not bear to hear her tell him that I was a thief... that my father had been a thief... Neither of them paid me any heed, so I rushed outside... On the first step I turned to take one last look at the man I loved... my foot slipped... I tried to catch hold of something and found nothing... and I fell, tumbling down the stairs.

I awoke in the hospital to the whisper of

Ross, saying... You and the baby will be all right, darling... but your mother suffered an attack that gave her no reprieve.

And I say it with shame: I felt relief that my mother had died before she could tell Ross the truth about me...

I left the hospital for a hotel where we registered as Mr. and Mrs. Helman... Ross steered me to my room, saying: "Doctor's orders, darling..." But in spite of our sacrifice the baby was born dead... A month later we were married.

We lived in hotels, from one city to another, with no roots and no friends... I did not notice in those days that Ross was treating me like a kept woman... He would come into the room and toss me a box containing a new dress, saying: "Try it on, darling..." And when I did, he would kiss me with his long kisses, whispering: "Most beautiful woman in town... my sweet... do you still love your old man?"

I think I was a new toy to him... Happiness had made of me an opening bud, and Ross delighted in presenting me to his businessman friends; sometimes he would take me along to dinner parties with them.

One evening we arrived in Dayton... Before we had settled in, the telephone rang. I picked it up — I was the nearer — and a woman's voice said: "Are you back, darling...? I am burning with longing for you..." I did not ask; my nerves could not have borne the asking... He offered no explanation, but went out and came back at dawn, drunk, while I wept... And he shouted at me: "Don't be a stone around my neck... I am not going to be blind to all women just because I was fool enough to marry you."

Ross began traveling without me, then neither writing nor telephoning... And I was the one who apologized, who pleaded, saying: "Ross, don't stop loving me — I have no one in the world but you..." But what good did it do?

I said to him once: "Ross, let me take a job to fill my emptiness while you are away." He guffawed: "And let people think I can't support you? Never!"

And yet I found myself walking to an institute whose advertisement I had read, asking for a woman employee... The place was a school for wayward boys, run by a retired ambassador who had devoted himself to the great work. He said to me: "We cannot pay much, Mrs. Helman, but our work gives peace of soul, for it is a work of good..."

I accepted, for that was my aim... I told Ross, expecting his outburst, but he did not care; on the contrary, he said: "If it pleases you, so be it..." He wanted to be rid of me — but why, my God?

My place of work swarmed with boys, and among them was a half-paralyzed little one called Benny... an orphan who lived with a poor family, and so was obliged to sell newspapers in the early morning before he came to study with the little ones.

Ross came and went, and I hardly saw him... but I was faithful to his love and never looked at another man... After one of his trips I found among his clothes a receipt from a hotel where he had stayed, and the receipt was in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Helman... And I understood everything... My husband was taking women along with him and passing them off as me... Ross — the man I had worshipped...

Everything went black before my eyes... Jealousy was an emotion I had never known before; now it shook me through and through... Ross came in while I was weeping... A collision was bound to come... Between my tears and my fury I tried to make him understand that I was his wife... that I still loved him — but he pushed me aside and went out.

I did not weep — I had no tears left... I curled up in my bed to watch the darkness and keep vigil over it, until the first threads of dawn crept into my room, and then I dozed off.

I got up at ten... I came out of my room, and there on the table was a slip of paper bearing a single word — "Goodbye" — and then his signature... I ran like a madwoman to his wardrobe and found not one piece of his clothing in it...

I leaned against the wall so as not to fall... and I stared at the sun that [filled] the room... It was still shining... and the whole world was going on as usual — how could that be, when everything around me had changed...?

Two hours passed before I could put on my clothes; then I went out to my work... The club office was empty, with some letters on the director's table that I was to answer... I opened his drawers to take out a sheet of paper — and there lay a small box with its key in it... I stared, and the box turned into a black money-purse full of small coins... That purse had once been my road to love... And I heard Grace's voice saying: How easy things are... My fingers burned with desire, and I opened the box.

I came running out of the office, a voice whispering in my ear: "I am your misery... I am Ross... take your revenge on him... on the whole world, for the world has mocked your suffering."

I found myself on a bench in the park without knowing at all how I had gotten there... And suddenly I came to myself... Everything around me was mute and silent, except for one voice ringing in my ears: "You are a thief, Sandy... a thief..." And my mother had been right.

I felt the money in my pocket and took it out. "Fifty dollars... I am a thief... I will be caught... and sent to prison as my father was sent..." Terror took hold of me... My mind began to say: "Return the money... hurry, before anyone finds out..." — while another voice said: "Throw it away... save yourself; no one will ever know if you throw it away..." The town clock struck four... I had sat in the park four hours... I rose, swaying, and went back to the club. One of the women employees was there, and I grew flustered... I would wait until she left, to return the money... She was talking and I was not listening... I asked her what she had said, and she answered in surprise... I told you the club is in an uproar because Benny stole fifty dollars.

And I cried out: "Benny...? That's impossible... I mean, he was at school." She said: They saw him hanging about the club in the morning. Then she finished sadly: "Why do they leave money lying about like that, as a temptation to the little ones?"

I was not listening; I asked her: "And where is Benny... did Mr. Sidney hand him over to the police?" She said in astonishment: "The police...? Mr. Sidney is not one to do that... I think he took the little boy to the family he lives with." And I hurried there... I was no longer trembling... Benny... sweet little Benny... I had brought this dreadful thing upon him... I stole and he is being punished... I will not escape this time... My mother is not at my side to send the money back where it belongs... Shall I do it myself? And why? Benny is another matter — it would have been understandable had he stolen the money, had his hand been able to reach it... He is a little wayward boy who does not know right from wrong.

I was running down the street, still seeing the half-paralyzed little boy with his clear blue eyes and his warm smile.

Sidney opened the door to me as though not surprised at my coming... The room was in an uproar, and Benny stood in the middle of it, saying... "I didn't do it... God is my witness, I didn't do it."

And the man who had taken him in was saying: "You rotten little thief — we sheltered you and you stole,

following in your father's footsteps... I am an honest man; I keep no thieves in my house."

And Benny shouted: "Don't say one word about my father!"

And the man went on — no, it was my mother who was saying: "Your father was a thief and you are wicked like him..." Benny was a little boy standing in the middle, and the next minute I was seeing myself in his place.

I whispered: Oh, no... But Mr. Sidney caught hold of me to keep me from falling and said: "You had better step outside, Mrs. Helman; I will manage this matter."

I went out, but I did not go far... I was waiting for him, to tell him that I was the criminal and not Benny. I would be sent to prison and Ross would learn of it — but what did that matter to me, since he did not love me?

I felt someone touch my shoulder, and before I could hold my tongue my hand was reaching out with the crumpled fifty dollars, and I was saying: "I was waiting for you, to hand you this."

Things vanished before my eyes and my knees shook... The man took me by the arm and put me into the car... I closed my eyes, and the car began moving toward... toward the police station...

My head was empty, for I had not tasted food all day, and I would have liked to stay lying on the seat with my eyes closed, but he took my arm and said: "Come, my daughter." I muttered stupidly: "To prison?" He said: "Is that what you thought...?"

An old woman received us, and I heard him say to her: "Be an angel, Auntie, and give me something for her to eat..."

He busied himself away from me until the woman came back with a tray bearing something, and I muttered: "But you haven't heard me?... Benny is innocent, and I..."

He said, interrupting quietly: "It does not matter what you did — but starving oneself to death is no profitable undertaking."

He gave me a cup of coffee, and I drank it, and when I had finished he said: "And now tell me, Mrs. Helman — were you in need of the money? Is something wrong..."

And I heard myself say: "No — I was not in need of the money — but I am wicked... I am a thief, as my mother always said..."

I talked, and could not stop... There was no need to tell him about Ross and how we came to marry, but the words came out... about my grandmother... about my mother... about Grace... about my father and how he died in prison... how I was never to marry and bear children — but I loved Ross... Then I took my head in my hands and said: "The baby died, and Ross turned against me, and he no longer wants me."

And I heard Sidney say: "You took the money as you used to take things from the stores... not because you needed them, but to forget your misery."

I was nodding my head heavily, and he went on: "Some people drink liquor to forget." O God, Thy mercy... it is a sad world, at times.

His voice was gentle and his eyes looked very sad, so I said: "Don't grieve for me — I am wicked!"

He said tenderly: "On the contrary... If you were wicked, you would not have cared what was happening to Benny... Look at me, Sandy..." — and he gazed into my eyes — "You could have kept it from me... No suspicion had gathered around you..."

I said: "And Benny?... And that man who spoke of Benny's father?" Sidney said: "You and Benny are unhappy children caught in the wilds of life."

He went on saying strange things like these — but strangest of all was the feeling that came over me... a feeling of freedom, as if my confession had opened the door of my prison, or as if a dark corner that had been locked upon me had opened, and I had stepped out of it into the light... alone... but unafraid...

And I murmured that I was ready now to go to the place where people like me are taken... to prison.

Sidney smiled and said: "You have been in prison, Sandy — and you have just now come out of it..." Then he added quietly: "No creature in this world was ever born wicked... and I do not believe your father was wicked... He was only a human being who was weak before temptation... Your mother was wrong when she fastened his faults on you... A child does not know that stealing is wrong until it is taught so..."

I said: "And my grandmother?... and her hatred... and the dark corner...?"

He said: "Your mother was an unhappy woman whom her own mother made unhappy... and your grandmother's wickedness was born of her unhappiness too."

Sidney did not put me in chains; rather he broke the chains with which my mother's sick mind had bound me.

I am no longer Sandy Martin... and I am no longer Mrs. Helman. Today I am a new creature. I finish my work and hurry to the wayward boys to help them... and it gladdens my heart to see them grow into good men despite their bad beginnings.

Today I know the secret of my happiness... As a child I stole to buy the love I hungered for... as a girl I stole because I was starved of love... I abased myself before my husband to win his love... and as a wife I stole to avenge my humiliated heart.

All the while I longed to take; but now I give... and I am happy in the giving.