The Hutch

1910

The carpenter’s strong, calloused hands sanded the final edge. It was done. A deep, mahogany, shining from the oil and gloss mixture. The two glass-paned doors peered out into the shop, silently watching over the scene. Nestled in the back, behind the counter, stood the hutch, along with all the other pieces of furniture being built or repaired. The shop had a weathered look about it. Chairs, end tables, wardrobes scattered haphazardly. There was a comforting smell of oak and sawdust in the air. The carpenter wiped his hands clean and patted the hutch, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Chiming, the brass bell over the door announced the presence of a visitor. The heavyset man with a cheerful red face and thick brown beard walked through the door. His small son, dodged between his father and bounded into the shop, looking around excitedly.

“Guten tag Sol, how is business? Otto, slow down and be careful! I’m sure Joseph will come out in a second.” The man scolded his rambunctious son.

“Guten tag Karl, guten tag Otto. Cannot complain, business is steady. I just finished this mahogany hutch for Frau Becker. Between you and me I worry the Beckers will not take it. I have heard they have fallen on hard times. Joseph, pull your head from your book and come say hello to Herr Klein and Otto.” Footsteps clattered from the back room.

Joseph appeared and the two boys quickly ran off. Sol beckoned Karl to come closer to the imposing hutch. Together, they inspected it.

“This one gave me some trouble. The sanding took so long I feared my hands would fall off. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh hush! I saw you delivering a hearty oak table and six chairs to Herr Weber on Wednesday. Besides, if you say you are not as young as you used to be then I must be ancient!” Karl admired the hutch knocking his knuckles against one sturdy door. “Great job old friend, it looks amazing. Frau Becker will regret it if she’s unable to add this fine piece to her collection.”

1912

“Ready or not, here I come!” Otto darts from the doorway of the shop, lowering his hands from his eyes. It’s empty inside the shop, everyone out for lunch. Joseph huddles into the warm darkness of the hutch’s lower doors. The dusty smell permeates his nostrils, quieting his racing heart. Soft steps cautiously step around the shop as Otto looks under tables and behind chairs. Anticipation builds, sweat cropping on Joseph’s brow as the steps grow closer and closer. Moist, small hands grasp the doors of the hutch and yank outward.

“I’ve got you! That was too easy. Make it difficult, why don’t you?” Otto teases. He grabs the boy’s hand and helps him out of the hutch. Joseph smiles softly, looking downcast.

“What’s wrong? I was only joking, that was a really good spot.”

Joseph’s eyes lock on the claw feet of the hutch, wringing his hands nervously. “Some of the other boys at school don’t want to play with me anymore. They pick on me because I’m Jewish. You still want to play with me, right?”

The other boy’s cheeks flush, an angry flash in his eyes. He puts his arm on Joseph’s shoulder.

Gently, he says, “My ma always said that underneath all our clothes, hair, and skin we all have the same hearts. Hearts are all that matters and it seems to me yours is worth a hundred of theirs. Let’s go to my house and get some cookies.” Joseph happily nods. The hutch stands guard, a silent witness.

1933

Time has flown like a bat from hell. Seconds into minutes, hours into days, weeks into years and still the hutch remains. The sturdy constant in a shop of rotating furniture, old men, young women, children darting amongst the inventory. Young boys growing taller, voices deepening. Laughing young men and women holding hands, dancing in the dark. The hutch observes. Periodically, hands smooth the edges, dusters skim the top. Eventually, a shift in the atmosphere. Quieter voices and less smiles, worry lines around the eyes. A general unease, unspoken yet felt in the spaces between words.

The shop bell chimes, announcing a customer. Joseph, a grown man himself now, stops tidying and looks up. Two men come in. The white-haired, wizened older man comes through the door first, hunched over. He glances nervously at the yellow and black Star of David on the window. The younger man walks in confidently, a bright smile on his face once he spots Joseph.

“Joseph, look at you napping on the job.” Otto jokes. Joseph smiles back, walking towards them.

“I know it’s difficult for you to recognize real, hard work Otto. Maybe you should try it yourself sometime.” He volleys back. He nods a greeting to the old man.

“Herr Klein, it’s good to see you.” The old man grunts, walking quickly towards an end table. Otto follows, rolling his eyes towards Joseph.

“Yes, that is the end table you requested Herr Klein. Shall I draw up a payment form and have it delivered to your house?” Joseph starts the transaction behind the counter. Karl Klein is antsy, walking around and continually looking out the window. His behavior isn’t unusual. Several customers, the ones who dare to come in, have acted the same way.

Otto is chatting about his wife and children, ignoring the nervous energy from his father. Herr Klein pays for the end table and turns to go.

“Herr Klein, would you like me to repair that chair leg of yours Otto told me about? I have some time Thursday to fix it.”

The old man hems and haws a bit, looking around. Finally, he turns to the younger men.

“I appreciate it Joseph and I appreciate the many years of service you and your pa have provided my family. But I think for now I’ll find someone else. It’s just better for everyone right now. The politics and all of that.” He looks away, shame darkening his eyes. Otto turns to his father, disgust written on his face.

The old man has already turned and started to walk out the door without a backwards glance. Otto looks apologetically at Joseph.

“I’m so sorry Joseph. I don’t even recognize my own father anymore. Just remember that for me, always, it’s the heart that matters.” The two men look at each other somberly, silently acknowledging the ugly truth of the times.

1938

“Okay, easy, easy, slide it back a little. Perfect.” The two men settled the hutch into the soft, yellow kitchen. It was the first time the hutch had ever left the shop. Otto and Joseph rested at the oak kitchen table and drank chilled lemonade.

“Thank you for the hutch Joseph. Marie has always admired it from afar. I’m just so sorry it has to come under these circumstances.” Otto looks down at his hands, sadness and worry deepening his frown lines.

“So am I. I thought my son would inherit it like I did. I never thought we would be forced to give up the shop. But then again, I never thought many things that have come to pass would happen. My job is to protect my family. And I can’t. The noose is tightening more and more and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Joseph tears up, clutching his glass so hard the veins stand out on his hand.

“And one of the worst parts is that we have to walk around every day like business as usual. Among people who despise my family and I for the simple matter of our birth. Your ma always said hearts are what matters. Why can’t they see our hearts? Why don’t they have any?” His voice shakes.

Otto looks back at him, lost for words. Burning shame and anger for his brethren who created this reality for his dearest friend rose up in his chest. He put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, twelve-year old boys again.

“I don’t know what to say. And I’m not sure what to do. But Joseph, you will always be my friend and I will always do what I can for you and your family. May God have mercy on us all.”

1942

The hutch waits, silent as always. Observing without judging. Moments in time witnessed and absorbed into the grains of wood.

Otto rushes into the kitchen, Joseph and his family close behind. He locks and bolts the kitchen door and Marie closes the blinds. Marie and Esther help the children upstairs to the attic.

“Let’s move the hutch directly in front of the attic door. If anyone comes to the door they won’t be able to access it.” Otto and Joseph heave the hutch on its side and move it upstairs. The men look at each other, fear etched across both their faces. The enormity of the task hits them. It’s come to this.

Marie exits the attic and leaves the room. Joseph places one foot on the first step, looking back at Otto. Otto tries to smile reassuringly.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re working to get you and your family out. This is temporary.” Joseph nods in slow agreement. He places his hand on Otto’s shoulder. “Thank you for always being a true friend Otto. Hearts are all that matters and it seems to me yours is worth a hundred of theirs.” The two friends lock eyes and Joseph makes his way upstairs as Otto moves the hutch into place. The hutch stands guard over the attic, day into night and over and over again.

2024

The hutch has had many lives. Traveling over the freezing waters of the Atlantic. Settling into family homes. Witnessing births. And deaths. Watching family dinners with laughter and tears, hugs and yells. Dancing around kitchens with bumps into the sturdy mahogany edges. Elders advising younger generations and younger generations teaching elders. Always present, always watching.

Two young girls sit at the kitchen table, working on their homework. Their giggles bringing the mother out with a plate of cookies.

“Here Guadalupe, try a cookie. It’s an old family recipe.” The girl bites into the cookie happily. Guadalupe takes one, inhaling the sugary, maple aroma.

“Thanks Lina, these are really good!” They return focus to their homework, enjoying their time together. The hutch observes. It notices the patterns of friendship and comradery. It has seen this scene before. In another life, another world.

2026

“ICE, open up!” Loud bangs on the front door scare the girls. The mother ushers Guadalupe and her family into the kitchen, the hutch watching in silence. Lina and Guadalupe hold onto each other, fear in their eyes.

“ICE, open up now!” An angry voice reverberates into the kitchen. Everyone is tearing up, terrified. Lina’s mother composes herself and with a steely look, walks to the front door. After a terse conversation through the door frame, the officers leave. “Are you okay? That was really scary.” Lina asks Guadalupe, squeezing her hand in support. Guadalupe gulps and nods.

“Why do they hate us so much? We’re not hurting anybody.” She says tearfully.

“I don’t know why. There’s an old family saying my mom taught me. Underneath everything we all have the same hearts.” Lina places one hand over Guadalupe’s heart and brings her hand up to Lina’s heart.

The hutch sees it all. The fear and the terror. The strength and the resolve. And most of all the love. The love to protect one another. The love to support one another. The love to endure and to fight for a better future. The hutch has no heart. But the hutch has seen so much heart. All hearts are the same.