Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  “I don’t think so,” said Hannah. “It doesn’t have a button. Maybe it’s a Jewish thing?"

  “The doorbell could be broken,” Faith suggested.

  She opened the screen door and knocked loudly on the inside door.

  “This was a bad idea,” Hannah took a step away from the house. “Why did I think this was a good idea? Let’s just go.”

  Suddenly, they heard footsteps. Soft footsteps. Slowly, someone cautiously opened the inside door, exposing a dimly lit atmosphere behind them.

  A beautiful woman with long, dark hair and striking features stood in the doorway, wearing a long-patterned skirt. Her hair was so full and lush, Hannah wondered if it was a wig.

  “Yes?” The woman greeted the two girls. Her voice was low but friendly.

  “Um, hello,” said Hannah. “We’re friends with Uri. . .I think this is his house?”

  The woman paused for a moment before answering. “Yes, this is Uri’s house. I am his mother. How can I help you?”

  Hannah was so timid that for the first time in her life, she found herself speechless. Faith glanced at her frozen friend and intervened.

  “We were wondering if we could talk with him.” Faith said. “Just for a few minutes?”

  Uri’s mother nodded. “Hold on one moment, please,” she said politely.

  She left the girls standing outside behind the screen door, leaving the inside door open. The girls watched as Uri’s mother walked toward what appeared to be a poorly lit kitchen.

  “Avi?” the girls heard her call out. They heard a man’s voice answer. They couldn’t make out much of their conversation, other than the words “girls” and “Uri.”

  Soon a man appeared at the door. He was tall and jovial looking, wearing a crocheted kippah like Uri’s, along with a dress shirt and tie. He wore stylish glasses, and a dark, well-trimmed beard framed his face.

  “Hello,” the man said. “I am Avi, Uri’s father. I understand you want to speak with him?”

  “Yes, please. . .if he’s home,” Hannah answered as politely as she could.

  “Come in, please,” said Avi. He flashed a bright smile that reminded her of Uri.

  Hannah and Faith moved cautiously into the house.

  “Um, sir?” Hannah asked. “Should we take off our shoes?”

  One of Hannah’s biggest insecurities was her smelly feet. She silently cursed herself for not using foot powder that morning.

  “No, not necessary,” answered Avi. “Please, sit down.”

  The two girls sat quietly on the sofa in the front living room.

  “Uri!” his father called in the direction leading up to a staircase. He then spoke in a language that neither Hannah nor Faith had heard before.

  “Is that Israeli?” whispered Faith to Hannah.

  “I have no idea,” Hannah whispered back. “Maybe Hebrew?"

  Hannah glanced at Faith and realized her crucifix necklace was showing.

  “Put your necklace under your sweater,” she whispered to Faith.

  “Why?” Faith sounded annoyed.

  “Because I think it might be offensive to them,” Hannah explained.

  “Seriously?”

  Faith did as Hannah asked, looking slightly offended herself.

  Soon Uri joined them in the living room, his eyes opening wide to see the two unexpected visitors. His hair was ruffled under his kippah. Hannah wondered if he had been taking a nap.

  “Hey, Uri,” said Hannah.

  He swallowed uncomfortably before replying. “Hi, Hannah.” He looked awkwardly at Faith, whose name he didn’t know.

  “Oh, this is Faith,” said Hannah. “She’s my best friend.”

  “Hi, Uri,” said Faith sweetly. “I’ve seen you around at school.”

  Uri nodded, keeping his hands in his two front pockets, a habit that Hannah found attractive.

  Uri’s father remained in the room, making the situation more awkward.

  “Um, we were just in the neighborhood, so we thought we’d stop by to say hello.” Hannah said.

  She felt herself beginning to sweat. Mr. Geller still hadn't left the room, causing her to begin to regret her decision to visit Uri.

  “How did you know where I live?” Uri asked, almost accusingly.

  “Oh, your friend Daniel told me,” Hannah replied. "I told him we were lab partners in chemistry and that I have your lab folder.”

  Uri was quick to pick up on Hannah’s lie.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot it in class,” he said, sounding unsure of himself.

  “Yeah, anyway, I thought I’d bring it back to you and we could talk for a bit.”

  An awkward silence fell upon the group.

  “Where is the folder?” Mr. Geller asked, breaking the silence.

  “What?” asked Hannah, caught off guard.

  “Uri’s chemistry folder. . .do you have it with you?” he questioned her again.

  In a panic, Hannah looked at Faith.

  Always one to play it cool, Faith saved Hannah from her white lie. “Oh, I think we left it in my car,” she said. “I’ll go get it.”

  Faith excused herself and stepped quietly past Uri’s father.

  Looking extremely uncomfortable, Uri sat across from Hannah in an old-fashioned armchair that had been in the Geller family for decades. Hannah silently prayed that Faith left her backpack in the car, so she could come back with a folder that they could pass off to fool Uri’s father.

  Faith was taking forever. The agonizing silence lingered on.

  “So,” Hannah spoke awkwardly. "Did you have a good Shavit?” She grimaced inside knowing she mispronounced the word again.

  Mr. Geller smiled at Uri. “Oh, I see you have been educating your friends about our customs.”

  He turned his attention to Hannah. “My dear, it’s called Shabbat. And it’s still happening. It ends precisely at 6:56 tomorrow evening.”

  Hannah's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "We didn't mean to interrupt!"

  "No interruption at all, my dear, our dinner and prayers are done for the night."

  "Yeah," Uri said. "It's totally fine. Don't worry about it."

  Hannah looked at Uri's hand, swollen and red from breaking Greg Moorehouse's nose a few hours earlier.

  Uri and his father began speaking again in what Hannah suspected was Hebrew, with his father's tone growing increasingly stern. Mr. Geller abruptly stopped the conversation and looked at a flustered Hannah.

  "I apologize, we are being rude," he said.

  "You see, because of our religious rules, Uri is not permitted to be alone in a room with a member of the opposite sex. That's why his annoying old father is still here." He smiled again while Uri looked to the corner of the room, embarrassed.

  Finally, Faith emerged through the front door holding a blue folder with a notebook inside. She had even taken the time to write the words Chem Lab on it. Her timing could not have been more perfect.

  "Here you go, Uri," said Faith as she handed him the folder. "Sorry it took so long. Hannah's backpack is super messy." She shot a look of defiance in Hannah's direction as punishment for putting her in this awkward situation. Noticing Hannah's irritated expression, Uri cracked a small smile.

  "Well, we’d better go." Hannah stood up from the couch. She looked at Uri and cleared her throat, unsure of how she should approach the subject of Greg Moorehouse. "Uri, I want to let you know not to worry about Greg," she said finally.

  "Greg?" Mr. Geller asked, "Uri, who is this Greg?"

  "Oh, he's nobody,” Hannah said before Uri could answer. “He's just this kid who caused some trouble at school today. He's been suspended for a couple of weeks."

  "I see," Mr. Geller replied, his voice tinged with concern. "I feared these things would happen at a secular school. Uri, were you involved?"

  "No, Abba," he responded defensively.

  Hannah continued her impulsive lie, "Greg was caught stealing some stuff from the boys' gym locke
rs, and Uri was worried that he might have taken his things."

  "Did he, Uri?" his father pressed.

  Uri looked at Hannah, impressed with how quick she was on her feet. He paused before he spoke.

  "No, Abba, I checked after my last class. Everything was there," he said, holding eye contact with Hannah. Finding himself an accessory in her white lie, he felt a thrill—almost an intimacy with the unpredictable, gentile girl.

  "Well then, very good." Mr. Geller turned his attention back to Hannah and Faith. "And speaking of lockers, you lovely young ladies may want to keep an eye on my Uri. It seems he’s managed to slam his hand in one today. It looks to be quite painful."

  "It's fine, Abba," Uri said curtly. Wanting to end the conversation, he thanked Hannah and Faith for bringing him the folder.

  As they prepared to leave, Uri gazed at Hannah. She wore a blue fitted sweater and long, dangling earrings that hung below her dark cropped hair. Her full lips glistened with a colored balm, and her fierce blue eyes were framed by distinct, long lashes. He recalled seeing a vintage poster of Elizabeth Taylor in downtown Philadelphia months earlier. Hannah’s eyes reminded him of the eyes on the poster. A feeling of warmth flowed through his body as he watched her.

  As the girls made their way to the door, Hannah peeked behind her and caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Uri's mother read a book under the light of two beautifully lit candles. The candlelight illuminated the woman’s already glowing complexion.

  "So, we'll see you at school on Monday, right?" Hannah asked Uri, trying to infer in her tone that he was not in trouble over the Greg Moorehouse incident.

  "Of course, you will," Uri's father answered for him.

  Uri stood behind his father, looking annoyed. "Yes, I'll see you on Monday," he reassuringly told Hannah.

  "Enjoy the rest of your Shabbat," Hannah said. "Did I get that right?"

  "You did, my dear," Mr. Geller answered with a smile. "You are a quick learner. Thanks for stopping by." He stood on the front porch and waved as the girls made their way back to Faith's car.

  "Good night!" The girls waved back.

  "Nice to meet you, Mr. Geller!" Hannah said loudly.

  "Actually it's Dr. Geller. But you may call me Avi!" He closed the door after watching them safely drive away.

  He turned to Uri, who sat on the sofa where Hannah sat moments earlier, looking unsure of what his father was about to say.

  "Uri," Avi began. "I saw the way you looked at that girl. You need to be careful; she is not Jewish. It is easy to succumb to lust at your age. You must keep your head in the Torah. A girl like that will only bring you pain. There is no future with a girl like her.”

  "I know that, Abba," replied Uri, looking down at his hands.

  "Good.” Avi looked sternly and cautiously at his son. His main reservation about temporarily moving from Bala Cynwyd was that Uri would be overexposed to secular values.

  He began to make his way up the stairs when Uri interrupted him.

  "Abba," said Uri.

  "Yes, son?"

  "Her name is Hannah. She has a name.”

  "Yes, I know that son." Avi paused. "Uri," he said, ensuring he had the last word of the evening.

  "Yes Abba?"

  "The next time you throw a punch, keep your thumb on the outside. You'll do less damage to your hand that way."

  Uri looked up at his father, stunned that he had figured out the truth.

  "I've worked on enough hands to recognize a punching injury when I see one," Avi said. "I presume the boy deserved it?"

  "I think so."

  "And it wasn't over this girl. . .this Hannah?"

  "No, Abba!" Uri grew louder. "I just couldn't take the insults anymore."

  Avi walked back down the stairs and kissed Uri on the top of his head. "I know it's been hard here, my son," he said. "We only have nine months and we'll be back home."

  Uri nodded.

  "Gut Shabbos," Avi said.

  "Gut Shabbos, Abba.”

  Uri watched his father move slowly to his room. While Uri hated the small city, part of him dreaded the thought of leaving in nine months. He thought about the way Hannah looked in the dim light that evening, and he wondered why she went out of her way to make sure he knew he wasn't in trouble with Greg Moorehouse. He wondered about the boyfriend that Greg mentioned. Most of all, he thought about the feeling of warmth that overwhelmed him when he looked at Hannah. Just thinking about her made his stomach tingle; a sensation that was alien to him.

  Overwhelmed with confusion and guilt, he got off the sofa, kissed his mother goodnight in the kitchen, and went upstairs to recite the Shema.

  5

  The first time Uri Geller and Hannah Hagen spoke on the telephone was on a Monday, two days after the uncomfortable and awkward experience at Uri's house.

  Uri anxiously arrived at school on Monday morning, unsure of how the administrators and students would react to Friday’s bloody incident. Had Greg Moorehouse really received a suspension? Hannah's story was tangled in lies, leaving Uri unsure of what to expect.

  As he walked through the hallways, classmates greeted him with a parade of admiration. One boy offered him a high-five, and said, "Nice job taking Moorehouse down. That guy is such a douche."

  Uri looked for Hannah in the usual places but didn't see her. He arrived at his first period English class, prepared to write an essay test on William Faulkner's Light in August. As he pulled out his pen and paper, the class was interrupted by the office intercom.

  "Mrs. Fisher, could you please send Uri Geller to the Dean of Students office?" the school secretary requested.

  "Ok," replied Mrs. Fisher. She nodded at Uri encouraging him to leave.

  He collected his supplies and made his way to the Dean's office. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind: Had he really broken Greg Moorehouse's nose? Would his parents press charges? Were his own parents waiting in the office with the Dean to question him? Would he get expelled?

  As he entered the office, a friendly secretary smiled at him and invited him to take a seat. Uri waited restlessly, tapping his left foot on the floor. A few moments later, a smiling African American woman entered the seating area. Tall with noticeably short hair, Uri found her stunning.

  "Uri, I presume?" She greeted him with a smile. "I'm Mrs. Gorman, the Dean of Students. Come into my office."

  Uri followed her apprehensively. Her desk faced a huge window with a close-up view of the outside courtyard. Pictures of her family decorated her office—cute, grinning children lined her desk, and were framed in snapshots that hung on the walls.

  "Take a seat, please," she said, sounding almost overly invitational.

  As he did what he was told, Mrs. Gorman began what sounded like a prepared speech.

  "Uri, on behalf of the entire administration of our school district, I sincerely apologize for the cruel and anti-Semitic comments you've received since you started classes here.” She paused briefly and tented her hands atop her desk. "We take this type of hate speech quite seriously, and it will not be tolerated. We are working to better train and inform staff to be aware of any anti-Semitic comments being said towards you, or any other Jewish students at our school."

  Caught off guard by her apology, Uri could only find it in him to utter the words, "Thank you.”

  Mrs. Gorman was quiet for a moment, leaving Uri unsure if she expected him to speak. The issue of breaking Greg’s nose was an elephant in the room. Uri cleared his throat.

  "What about the incident with Greg Moorehouse?” he finally asked.

  Mrs. Gordon gave an apprehensive smile. "I am usually not at liberty to share details from another student's record," answered Mrs. Gorman. "But I can tell you—off the record—due to contraband found in his locker, Greg will not be in school for a few weeks."

  "Ok." Uri replied, confused. “But I punched Greg in the face.”

  Mrs. Gordon sighed. “We are aware of that, but due to the amount of bullying you’ve endured si
nce you enrolled here, we are willing to give you a pass. But that type of incident will not be tolerated again.”

  "Furthermore," she continued, "if you hear any more incendiary remarks regarding your Jewish faith, I ask that you report those incidents to me immediately. We have implemented an educational plan and expect any student who makes anti-Semitic remarks to watch a documentary about the Holocaust and write an essay about what they’ve learned."

  Skeptical by the school's sudden interest in combating anti-Semitism, Uri was relieved to avoid punishment.

  "Thank you very much, Mrs. Gorman," he said. “And I deeply apologize for what I did to Greg.” He sounded sleepless.

  "If you really want to thank someone, thank Hannah Hagen. If it weren’t for her, we would never have been fully aware of how bad things had gotten,” Mrs. Gorman replied.

  "What do you mean?" Uri asked, his mind swirling with thoughts of Hannah.

  "That girl can write a letter. She knows her stuff. She is going places, let me tell you."

  "She wrote a letter?"

  "You'll have to talk to her about that," answered Mrs. Gorman. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting in five minutes."

  Uri thanked Mrs. Gorman again, and returned to class.

  All day he looked for Hannah in the halls. He arrived at his chemistry lab disappointed to see her stool empty and not among the students who streamed in tardy. His lab partner was Jenny Morris, who could hardly hide her relief of no longer being paired with Greg.

  After the final bell, Uri was relieved to spot Faith in the hallway by her locker.

  "Faith!" he called out as he made his way to her row of lockers.

  "Oh, hi Uri," she said, tucking her crucifix necklace in her shirt.

  "Is Hannah here today? I haven't seen her.”

  "Oh, I don't know," replied Faith. "She might be sick. And Will showed up, so who knows."

  "Will?" asked Uri.

  Faith hesitated, fearing she had said too much.

  "Will is this guy she used to date. Hannah broke it off with him about a month ago, but he didn't take it very well. All I know is that he showed up at her house out of the blue. She called me afterwards. She was pretty upset about it."