Unwrap these Presents

by Astrid Ohletz

  I followed Tova here a few days after I turned eighteen and three Shabboses after our weekly calls suddenly stopped. At first, she had kept her promise to call every week, and while I worried about her all the time, at least these short conversations let me know that she was well. I could hear the whooshing of the wind through the phone as she stood on a pier in New York City that was the meeting spot for kids who had no place else to go. “Safety in numbers,” she had tried to reassure me.

  Then the calls stopped and when I tried the number she’d put in my phone, it just rang and rang. I tried on different days. I let it ring a hundred times. But she never answered.

  I decided to leave home because I couldn’t be disloyal to Tova. If I did nothing, I would be abandoning her when she could possibly need me most. If I went to my parents, I would be ensuring her return home and the awful fate from which she had run. She would be forced to marry so that her family could minimize the shame that had already befallen them. Her disappearance had cast a shadow of scandal that would make it more difficult for her parents to find suitable matches for her brothers and sisters.

  I really didn’t want to leave, at least not yet. Mama had not said a word to me about getting married. I hadn’t been confronted with some unknown boy standing awkwardly in our living room. Instead Mama and Papa were all wrapped up in my twin brothers’ bar mitzvahs, which were to take place in February. After such a big event and the need to rest afterward, I might have been able to hold out through Pesach and leave when the weather was warmer.

  Besides, the truth was, except for Tova and the prospect of marrying, I was pretty satisfied with my life in Am Masada. I liked the way we were governed by strict adherence to the calendar of solemn and joyous holidays that kept our peoples’ connection to Hashem alive in our hearts. Most of all, I loved singing with Papa, whose position as the hazzan for our community had earned him great respect and admiration.

  In school we learned that it is forbidden for a man to hear a woman sing. But one day, when I was folding laundry, I forgot myself and began to sing, not realizing Papa was in the next room. When I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, I stopped in mid-verse. My hand flew to my mouth.

  “Papa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  He waved my apology away. “I know that, shayna. I couldn’t help but listen. You have a beautiful voice. Like a songbird kissed by an angel. Put down that laundry and come with me. Despite what some in our community believe, it is not forbidden for a father to hear his daughter sing.”

  And that was how it started. He and I would sing in his study when nobody else was home. He even taught me how to read the cantillation markings for chanting Torah so that I would know when my voice should rise or fall and when to draw out the end of a word.

  “Ah, Chava, if girls could be cantors, you… Well, let’s just hope one of your brothers has half the voice you do.”

  “See,” said Tova as we took one of our long Shabbos morning walks, “you can never use this gift you’ve been given if you stay here. Just like I can never study science or philosophy. The only thing we will be able to do is have babies.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with babies,” I said. “I would like to be a mother one day.” I looked down at the rutted, dirt road at my feet. “Except I don’t want a husband. I want the fathers to leave so we can raise our children together.”

  She looked at me, an amused expression on her face. “I’m sure the Rebbe would give us his blessing.” She laughed and I couldn’t help but do so as well, picturing the bearded patriarch of our village bent over his holy books trying to find some loophole in the ancient laws.

  * * *

  I grabbed onto the railing on the pier as another spell of coughing jerked my body in all directions and left me dizzy and exhausted. As the coughing subsided, I turned and saw three large boys towering over me. I didn’t recognize any of them from my nightly walks around the area.

  “Hey babe,” the biggest one said. “Want something for that awful cough?” His tone was calm but I couldn’t help but notice the smirk on his face.

  “I-I have no money.” My wallet was empty, but I’d pinned twenty dollars to my underwear.

  “Won’t cost a thing.” He held his hand out. Two light blue pills rested in his palm.

  “What is that?”

  “Cough medicine. Actually it’ll cure anything for a while. Helps keep your troubles away. You’ll feel, hmmm, ecstatic.” He smirked again and I heard laughter from his two companions.

  “No thank you.” I knew he was offering me something much stronger and more dangerous than cough medicine.

  I turned away toward the railing and felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me back.

  “You’ll take these and then you’ll come with us.”

  My breathing quickened and I felt my heart beating fast. Then my body went into another spasm of coughing.

  The same boy grabbed me with both hands. “You’re no good to us with that cough. Take the pills!”

  I squirmed to break his hold, but the other two stepped closer. I screamed, “No! Stop! Leave me alone!” I tried to struggle to be free of them, but they were on me in seconds. One of them forced open my mouth while the hand with the pills moved closer.

  Then suddenly that hand jerked back and away from me.

  “Now what manner of animal do we have here? You girls wanna venture a guess?” There was laughter again; this time it didn’t come from the boys but from four even taller strangers standing behind them. I looked up and saw a quartet of fancy hairstyles: long dark braids with multicolored beads; blonde hair piled on top of a head; tight, red curls; and long, sleek black hair. These were women. Very tall women. One had the boy with the pills by the waist.

  “I’d say we got ourselves three examples of hetero-erectus,” said the blonde, her voice straining from the effort of holding back the boy.

  “I don’t know, girl,” said the long-haired one, “not much erectus goin’ on here. I’d say Nee-andro-thal.” Her friends giggled. “Ummm, hmmm,” they said.

  “Now why don’t you boys go back to Jersey or whatever hick town you come from and leave these kids alone?”

  As soon as those words were out of Long Hair’s mouth, they were all at each other, grabbing, pushing. Terrified I’d get pulled into this fight, I leaned back onto the railing trying to slip away.

  “Okay, stop it all right now or someone gets really hurt.”

  I looked over and saw a flash of silver. The woman with the long hair was holding a knife. The boys began to back off.

  “That’s right. Now go take a long walk off this pier.” She waved the knife at them. “I said get going!”

  The four women and I watched as the boys moved away. “Fuck you tranny,” one of them called out. “Fuckin’ freak,” said another.

  Every minute or so, Long Hair called out, “C’mon keep going.” Then she folded the knife, put it in her purse, and turned to me.

  “Are you hurt, honey?”

  I shook my head and looked at them. Something seemed different but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “I’m Esmerelda,” said Long Hair. “And these are my girls, Clarice, Mariella, and Janelle. What’s your name, baby?”

  I shook my head again. Since I’d arrived, I’d told no one my name. Instead, I showed them the picture of Tova. “Have you seen her?”

  None of them had.

  “That your girlfriend?” asked one of them.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and nodded. Then I started coughing again.

  “Okay now, baby, we need to get you some place warm and take care of that cough,” said Esmerelda.

  She reached back in her purse and gave me a plastic card. There was a picture of her and the words “Street Team Coordinator, LGBT Youth Services in the Village.”

  “This is a place you can go, sweetheart, to get out of the cold. It’s safe. No one will hurt you there.” She looked at me, her arms folded over her chest.
<
br />   “And since you don’t want to tell us your name, I’m going to call you Ariel, from The Little Mermaid. You got that long reddish hair and light eyes. And we found you by the water.”

  I again looked at the four of them with questions on my face, trying to figure out what seemed different.

  “Oh, Ariel honey,” said the blonde, “if you could only see the way you’re looking at us.” She smiled. “You never seen transgender girls before?”

  Transgender. It wasn’t a word I knew.

  “C’mon. We’ll tell you all about it on the way to the Center,” said Esmerelda as she took my hand.

  I remained still, trying to decide if it would be safe to go with them. They had saved me from the awful boys, but the image of the knife, its metal reflecting light from the street lamps on the pier, made me hesitate. Then I started to cough again and felt warm arms surround me and the soft reassurance of a hand rubbing the middle of my back.

  “It’s okay, baby. We’ll get you better.”

  I decided to take the chance.

  * * *

  We entered a large room with long tables arranged in rows. Kids were everywhere. Some were hunched over plates. Others were standing in bunches laughing. Adults were walking around with trays of food. The sound was deafening and reminded me of times when I’d gone with Mama to pick up my brothers at school.

  “Now you sit right down here while I go see about finding you something to eat.” Esmerelda put her hands on my shoulders as I lowered myself onto a chair. “The girls will be right here with you.”

  “Where you from, honey?” It was the blonde, Janelle. “I come from Florida and these winters up here are workin’ my last nerve.”

  I couldn’t risk telling anyone about Am Masada. “I need to find the girl in the picture,” was all I said.

  “Well look around. She could be right here.”

  I scanned the room trying to focus through the chaos. Two girls stood in a corner together kissing. I opened my mouth in surprise that they would do such a thing in front of so many people. Tova and I had always been so careful.

  “Okay Ariel, this will be good for what ails you. Hot vegetable soup and chicken fingers, plus a piece of chocolate cake.”

  I looked at the tray of food set down in front of me and frowned. I couldn’t eat any of it.

  “I can’t,” I said pointing to the food. “It’s treyf.”

  Esmerelda looked confused. “You don’t like the tray? Here…” She removed the bowl and plates and put them all on the table as she whisked away the tray.

  “No. Treyf, treyf. Unclean. I can’t eat this.”

  They all began talking to me at once. “Hold on,” said Esmerelda, her hands raised in front of her. “Let me get Tracy. She’s volunteering tonight. Maybe she can figure out what’s going on.”

  A few minutes later she returned with someone tall and thin, with blonde hair tied back. Her long legs were covered in tight-fitting blue jeans. She crouched down beside me, and I could see the most beautiful green eyes. She was like a princess. I thought of Queen Esther.

  “Hey, Ariel,” she said softly, her voice was melodic, it’s cadence rising and falling in pitch. “Why can’t you eat the food, baby?”

  “It’s not clean.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s treyf. I cannot eat treyf.”

  “Is this food different from what you’re used to?”

  I nodded.

  “What do you eat at home?” Her voice was soft and comforting. I felt a pang in my heart for my family and for Tova.

  “Kashrut.”

  “And what is that?”

  How to make them understand? And even if I did, what would it matter?

  The princess stood and turned. She waved her arm in front her and then pointed toward me. “Robin! Baby, come here.”

  This person she called Robin approached. She had wavy brown hair that seemed to go in all directions. Her features were soft and welcoming.

  “Ariel, this is my partner, Robin.”

  Partner, what did she mean? Were they like Tova and me?

  Robin sat down in the chair next to me.

  “Tell Robin what you told me about the food.”

  “I cannot eat it. It’s unclean.”

  “How is it unclean?”

  “It’s treyf, not kashrut. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “You’re an Orthodox Jew.”

  “Hasidic.”

  Again she nodded. Warm relief spread through my chest. “Did your parents kick you out?”

  I shook my head. “No. I left to find her.” I showed her Tova’s picture.

  She put her hand on my arm.

  “You love her, like me and Tracy?” She pointed to the princess.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “So Ariel, I’m Jewish, too.”

  I breathed out. This could be a good thing or not. On the one hand she seemed to understand. On the other hand, she could call Mama and Papa before I had the chance to find Tova.

  “But I observe differently than you do.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I don’t follow the same rules as you, but I know enough to be helpful. You see, there’s more than one way to be a Jew. I can explain all that later, but I just want you to know for now, Ariel, that you’re safe with me and with all of us here.”

  “It’s Chava. My name is Chava.”

  She smiled. “Chava, it means ‘life’ in English, right?”

  I smiled back.

  “Okay, now to get you some food. Will you eat a banana or an orange that hasn’t been peeled or cut?”

  “I can, yes.” I began to cough again.

  “Great, you need the vitamin C with that cough. I’m going out to find you a kosher meal and some cough medicine. Do you know that it’s Chanukah?”

  “Yes, I lit two flames and said the blessings.” I wanted her to know that I hadn’t abandoned the commandment.

  “Well let’s see what we can do to make the rest of the holiday a bit more joyous for you while we continue to look for your girlfriend. Can you tell me her name?”

  “It’s Tova.”

  “Tova and Chava. Together you translate as ‘good life.’ That’s a hopeful omen.”

  She stood and left the big, noisy room. Esmerelda brought me some hot water and a whole lemon, along with an orange and a banana. I squeezed the juice from the lemon into the water and drank.

  * * *

  Five nights later I still could not find Tova. I was staying with Robin and Tracy in their beautiful apartment with a view of the river. They brought me food I could eat and each night we lit candles and said the blessings. There were even latkes, though they came from the kosher store and didn’t taste as good as Mama’s.

  On the eighth night they were taking me to their shul for a special Chanukah celebration.

  “Rabbi Goldfarb would like to talk to you before services,” said Robin.

  My eyes grew wide. “No, I cannot speak to a rabbi. He will send me back!”

  “She may be able to help you find Tova. We’ve looked in all the places where homeless kids hang out. The rabbi can help us look in other places.”

  “She? A woman rabbi?” I began to laugh.

  “Now Chava, we talked about how there’s not just one way to be an observant Jew. There are many rabbis who are women, cantors too.”

  The hazzan can be a woman! My mind filled with possibilities for myself. “Does your shul have a woman hazzan?”

  “The cantor?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes. And there’s a man as well.”

  “Like Papa.”

  “Your father is a cantor?”

  I looked down at the floor, afraid I’d said too much.

  “I’m not surprised now that I’ve heard how beautifully you sing the Chanukah blessings.”

  She was shorter than I pictured her, with light brown, curly hair and dressed in a charcoal blazer with matching pants. On her he
ad was a small, multicolored yarmulke, held in place with a bobby pin. Married women must cover their heads, but never with a yarmulke. I stared at her trying to make sense of it all.

  She welcomed me to Congregation Shaare Avodah, the Gates of Love, an unusual name for a shul. Her voice was warm and gentle.

  We talked about what I’d been doing since I left home. How I’d walked the streets, sleeping and eating when I could, as I looked everywhere for Tova.

  “There are communities of Orthodox gay men and lesbians here in New York City. She may have found them. I’m going to ask around.”

  I agreed to let her use her phone to take a picture of my photograph of Tova. For the first time since the beginning of Chanukah, I began to feel hopeful.

  * * *

  As we left the rabbi’s office to take our seats for the service, I looked around for the women’s section. But instead of heading toward the back of the sanctuary, I was guided to the very front row where chairs had been reserved for Robin, Tracy, and me as if we were honored guests. A man sat down next to Tracy.

  Men and women sitting side by side in shul? I turned around and was amazed to see the rows behind me filling up with everyone all mixed together. I had so much to learn about the different ways there were to be a Jew.

  The service was familiar and at the same time completely strange. I recognized some of the prayers and their melodies, but they had a piano and a chorus that sang with the hazzan at times. It felt like I’d been transported to some new Jewish planet.

  The rabbi had asked me to accept an honor. Accompanied by Robin and Tracy, I was to come up to the bimah, light the Chanukah candles, and sing the blessings. At home, women and girls were not permitted to go anywhere near the bimah so I was nervous about standing up in front of all these people.