Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  “Catholic?” repeated Daniel. “I can’t bring a Catholic girl home to my mother.”

  “No one said you had to,” replied Uri.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Hannah and Faith, but he could only focus on Hannah. She wore a long, tan, vintage style coat with a faux fur lined hood. She had her hair pulled back in barrettes the way he liked it. Hannah wore her typical dangling earrings, a beaded necklace, and she smelled like watermelon and apples. Again, he was drawn to her shiny lip gloss.

  She spoke before he got a chance. “You look really nice,” she said.

  “So do you,” he replied, staring into her eyes that were lined with more makeup than usual.

  Uri felt Daniel give him a slight nudge.

  “Oh, Faith, this is my friend Daniel."

  “Hi,” Daniel said.

  “Hey,” replied Faith. “I think I know you. Didn’t we have jazz choir together?”

  Embarrassed, Daniel's face flushed.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Probably. All the other electives were full, so it was my last choice,” he rambled uncomfortably.

  “So, should we get our tickets?” Hannah suggested.

  Uri thought back to his conversation with Daniel in his car. He looked at beautiful Hannah, thought about the kiss she had planted on his cheek, the things he was keeping from her, and became overwhelmed.

  Amid his thoughts, Uri heard a little girl’s voice behind them.

  “Mommy, why does that guy have that funny hat on his head?” the child asked.

  Embarrassed, the mother hushed her daughter, but Hannah turned around and crouched on her knees to the little girl’s level.

  “He wears that hat because he loves God very much. In fact, he loves God so much that he wears that hat to be reminded how much God loves him, too.” Hannah smiled warmly to the child.

  “Oh,” said the girl. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah it is,” replied Hannah. “And I love your shoes.”

  The girl’s mother smiled at Hannah in appreciation and mouthed the words “thank you”.

  At that moment Uri Geller realized that he was in love with Hannah Hagen.

  As people moved forward, Uri gently pulled Hannah’s elbow and escorted her out of the line.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, surprised by his assertiveness.

  “What if we don’t see the movie tonight, Hannah?” he asked.

  “What do you mean? What else would we do?”

  “What if we go somewhere else?” Uri asked. “My father is picking me up in two and a half hours, and I don’t want to spend it looking at a movie screen. I want to spend it with you, talking to you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Can we go somewhere else?”

  “Yes!” she answered enthusiastically.

  They remembered Faith and Daniel, who were now at the front of the line, purchasing their tickets.

  “I’ll go tell them,” Hannah said.

  Uri watched as she excused herself to the front of the line to talk to Daniel and Faith. The two looked back at Uri with a glare of annoyance. Uri shrugged.

  “We’ll meet you back here at 9:30!” Hannah said loudly as she made her way back to Uri.

  “So,” said Hannah. “I have the perfect place we can go.” She led him outside into the cold. “There’s an alley I want to show you.”

  “An alley?” Uri smiled. “Do you want us to get mugged?”

  “No—you’re going to love this, I promise,” she assured him.

  She moved closer to Uri and took his hand. His entire body relaxed and tingled, as if he were turning into jelly.

  As they passed closed hardware shops and boutiques, Hannah led him into an alley that was covered in paint. The streetlights revealed colorful Native American murals, paintings of women’s faces, and painted tapestries that wove in and around the alley’s brick lined wall.

  “It’s called Art Alley,” Hannah explained. “When I was a kid it was just a bunch of graffiti, but then the City Arts Council came in and turned it into something beautiful.”

  “It is beautiful,” said Uri, looking at Hannah more than the colors before him. “Can anyone paint something?” he asked her.

  “Not on this part. But further down there’s a section where the public can paint stuff.”

  “Show me,” said Uri.

  They walked for another twenty feet, where the quality artwork came to a stop, replaced by the work of amateurs. On the ground laid a couple of empty cans of spray paint.

  “Do you think anything is left in these?” he picked one up, shaking it.

  “I don’t know. . .why? Are you suddenly an artist, Uri?”

  He smiled but didn’t answer. He tried to spray some paint on the ground with one can, but it was empty. He picked up the other, gave it a good shake, and tried again. This time, there was some paint left.

  “Hey, we got lucky!” he said, then stood at the wall, examining it for a moment before he found a good spot.

  “What are you going to paint?” Hannah asked curiously.

  “Shh...” he said. "Just watch."

  Hannah watched as he slowly wrote Hebrew letters. She was amazed at how naturally he could write from right to left, let alone do it with a quarter bottle of old spray paint.

  The paint was bright red. It took Uri ten minutes to complete it, stopping occasionally to shake the can. Finally, he stepped away from a series of beautiful Hebrew words that read: אורי אוהב חנה

  “It’s gorgeous,” said Hannah. “What does it say?”

  “Oh, I thought you knew Hebrew,” he teased her. “You wrote it so well on the little note you gave me.”

  “Yeah, I did a lot of research in the library for that,” she said. “And it wasn’t easy write!”

  “Yes, Hebrew is the world’s oldest, most beautiful language,” Uri said with pride.

  “Come on, tell me!” Hannah playfully begged him.

  Uri began to rub his cold hands together, wishing he had brought some gloves.

  Hannah took his hands in hers and placed them in her pockets. Uri found himself as close as he’d ever been to her, as close as he’d ever been to any girl, aside from his mother.

  Hannah’s back was against the building on the opposite side of the wall with his writing; Uri’s face inches from hers. His desire to kiss her overtook him, but his inexperience paralyzed him. He wanted her to kiss him; why wouldn't she?

  Words came to him from Song of Songs. He leaned closer to Hannah, closed his eyes, and said, “You are all fair, my beloved, and there is no blemish in you.”

  Hannah stood frozen, unsure of what to say. But she wanted to stay there, in the cold, with his hands in her pockets, his lips so close to hers.

  Uri opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  Hannah finally spoke. “There is no blemish in you—is that what you wrote?”

  “No,” said Uri. “But that’s true. There is no blemish in you, Hannah.”

  They stood silently in the cold, listening to each other’s breathing.

  “You see me as beloved, is that what you wrote?” she whispered again, smiling.

  “No,” he whispered.

  She moved her lips even closer to his now, so close that if he spoke, he was sure their lips might touch.

  He spoke anyway.

  “It says...” he hesitated, terrified about what he was about to say. He prepared for what felt like an unveiling of his soul.

  “You’re shaking,” Hannah whispered, clasping her hands more forcefully over his. “Uri Geller, tell me what you wrote,” mere centimeters separated their lips now.

  “It says Uri—"

  He paused again, unsure if he could finish the sentence. He took his hands from her pockets and gently moved her face back towards his. He closed his eyes and placed his chin on her head, nestling her into his neck. Above them he saw a mural of an exquisitely painted deer. Images of the gazelles from the Song of Songs entered h
is head. Intoxicated by his emotions, he finally told her.

  "It says. . . Uri loves Hannah."

  Hannah’s eyes widened, and tears began to build up in them again like they did in the library. This time, she couldn’t stop them, they rolled down her cheeks. There weren’t tears of sadness, but tears of relief. Relief in knowing that she could be loved by someone as pure as Uri, by someone who didn’t have an ulterior motive. Uri gently wiped her damp face with his thumb.

  That’s when Hannah kissed him. It wasn’t an open-mouthed kiss, but a gentle, warm embrace of their lips.

  Uri pulled away, embarrassed. "I've never done this before," he said shyly.

  "It's ok," Hannah spoke gently. "We don't have to do anything. I just want to be with you."

  This time, Uri kissed her. The kiss lasted longer. Uri felt the coldness of the night disappear. He melted into Hannah, taking her face in his hands, touching her hair.

  They kissed for what seemed like an hour. When they stopped, Hannah asked Uri, "Is this ok? I mean, with your religion and all?"

  He kissed her again. "Why would God not want us to experience this? There is a holiness about it."

  "A holiness?" she whispered back to him.

  "It's an obligation in our faith that a man and his wife be intimate, in fact it's encouraged."

  "But Uri," Hannah whispered back to him. "We're not married," she said, smiling.

  "Not yet," Uri replied. “But someday Hannah Hagen, you will be my wife."

  Hannah looked at him incredulously. "Does this mean I have to become Jew—"

  Before she could finish, Uri took her face in her hands and kissed her again. He smelled her hair, kissed the nape of her neck, and her forehead. She kissed him behind his ears and ran her fingers through his hair.

  Hannah felt she was living in a fantasy. Her relationship with Will was purely sexual, lacking emotional intimacy. The inwardness she felt with Uri was something foreign to her; maybe he was right, perhaps there was something holy about it. They kissed with intentional expression—their closeness felt deep within their souls.

  For a moment, Uri felt small pangs of guilt for succumbing to lust, but when he looked into Hannah's eyes, he felt he was looking into her soul. Again, he thought to himself, how could HaShem be against this?

  When the time came to walk back to the theater, Uri dreaded telling Hannah that his family was returning to Bala Cynwyd. But as they walked together, ease and comfort overcame him. He knew with all certainty that Hannah would be a part of his future.

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?" she asked after he told her.

  "I don't know, I guess I was afraid you might lose interest in me. I'm sorry, Hannah."

  "You're going to break my heart, Uri Geller," she sighed. "But. . ."

  "But what, Hannah?"

  "I love you, too."

  She kissed him again. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the theater.

  14

  In the weeks following their first kisses in the alley, Hannah and Uri became emotionally inseparable. They continued to meet in their oasis in the library, sharing more about their lives, their secrets, and dreams. She told him more about her favorite music and books, and as promised, he brought her a copy of a Chumash, the Hebrew Bible.

  "You've never heard of Counting Crows?" she asked him in disbelief, lending him a copy of her favorite CD, August, and Everything After.

  "You don't know the Songs of Songs? I quoted you a verse from it that night in the alley,” Uri said in equal disbelief. He lent her yet another Jewish book of learning; his copy of the Tanakh.

  Uri learned Hannah's middle name was Rose, after her grandmother. He thought it was lovely.

  Hannah learned Uri's middle name was Asher, which meant "happy." Uri also explained that Asher was the second son of Jacob, who was promised a life of abundance.

  "What does Uri mean?" she asked him eagerly, as they remained on the topic of names.

  "It means my light."

  "My light," Hannah repeated. "That fits you perfectly." She looked at him with his dark golden locks. "Uri Asher Geller," she said. “You are my light and my happiness."

  Uri smiled softly. "And your name Hannah means you are favored with grace."

  Hannah grabbed his hand and led him to a hidden area behind the shelves of books. There they shared a short kiss. Finding time for physical contact was challenging, and the more time they spent together, the more they yearned for intimacy.

  But each time Uri recited his prayers, he felt conflicted about his relationship with Hannah. He wasn't conflicted because he felt he was breaking rules; he was conflicted because everything with Hannah felt right. He believed that HaShem brought Hannah into his life, and he meant to keep his promise when he told her that he would marry her.

  As Chanukah approached, Uri was pleased to learn that one of the traveling rabbis would arrive at the synagogue to lead services. Being a small congregation, the members of the Temple of the Hills often relied on each other to lead services; Uri's father being one of them.

  When Uri heard that a Conservative rabbi would be arriving soon, he hoped to talk with him privately about his relationship with Hannah.

  His opportunity came the second week of December, when Rabbi Stuart Friedman arrived the day before the first night of Chanukah. As his mother drove him home from school, Uri noticed a car in the synagogue's parking lot, likely a rental used by Rabbi Friedman.

  Uri met Rabbi Friedman once before and took a liking to him. The rabbi was a staunch, muscular man, completely bald with a well-groomed, white beard. Uri noticed that he usually wore his kippah only in the synagogue, probably because of the difficulty to keep it on his hairless scalp. Uri found Rabbi Friedman more approachable than the rabbis he encountered in his Hebrew schools in Philadelphia.

  "Imma," Uri asked his mother after they arrived home. "Would it be alright if I walked over to the synagogue to see if Rabbi Friedman is there?"

  "What for, Uri?"

  He was well prepared with an answer.

  "I've had to answer many questions from Christian students about our faith since we’ve arrived here, and I'd like his advice on how I might respond," Uri said, satisfied that his answer was at least partially true.

  "Oh, of course," his mother said, sounding concerned. "Before you go, I have some kugel left over from Shabbat. Let me put it in a container so you can bring some to him."

  Uri watched his mother as she prepared a Tupperware container of kugel for the rabbi. The visiting rabbis were well fed during the few days they were at the synagogue, with every practicing Jewish family in the city bringing some sort of meal or dessert to share.

  "Here you go," his mother said as she handed him the container. "Give the rabbi my best."

  As Uri opened the door to leave, his mother yelled to him. "Please tell the rabbi that he is welcome for dinner any time!"

  "I will, Imma," he said as he closed the door behind him.

  When he arrived at the synagogue, he went around to the back entrance, which was closest to the rabbi's living quarters.

  He only had to knock once before hearing the loud footsteps of Rabbi Friedman. The door opened and there stood the rabbi, wearing dress pants, a dress shirt, and surprisingly, a kippah.

  The rabbi smiled as he greeted him. “Uri!" he said, seeming genuinely pleased to see him. "Shalom aleichem!"

  "Aleichem Shalom," Uri greeted him back, as the rabbi strongly patted his shoulder.

  "Some kugel from my mother," Uri said, offering him the Tupperware container.

  "Ah, you can never have enough kugel. Thank her for me, will you?"

  Uri nodded.

  "What brings you here, my son?" the rabbi asked. Before Uri could answer, the rabbi continued. "You have grown since I saw you at Yom Kippur! Or perhaps it is maturity. Remind me again of your age, Uri?"

  "I'll be eighteen in February, Rabbi."

  "You are becoming a man. I assume you will be following in your brother's
steps and moving to Israel soon?" Rabbi Friedman asked.

  "Yes, I'll likely be enlisting in the Army... combat and infantry."

  "Very good. I was a Navy man myself." The rabbi smiled fondly, as if her was lost in a memory.

  "But we have gotten off track," he continued. "I trust you didn't visit me to discuss your military plans."

  "Um, no Rabbi," he replied, feeling somewhat awkward standing in the rabbi's living space. "Is there some place else we could talk?" he asked nervously.

  "Of course! Come follow me to the upstairs office."

  Uri followed him to the upper level of the building. As he watched the rabbi from behind, he realized tape was keeping the kippah attached to the rabbi’s head. Considering himself fortunate to come from a long line of Jewish men with full heads of hair, Uri found it amusing that it took him this long to discover this trick.

  He watched as the rabbi removed a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the office door. The office smelled musty, and Uri noticed that there was still a calendar from 1995 tacked on the wall.

  "Please, take a seat," the rabbi said, choosing to sit in a chair across from Uri rather than in the chair behind the desk, like his rabbis back home. This was another reason Uri appreciated Rabbi Friedman. Uri felt more like he was talking to a friend than an authority figure.

  "So how is the secular school you're attending? Have you adjusted well?"

  Uri expelled a sigh. "It was rough at first. I got called a lot of names because of my kippah."

  "I can imagine," the rabbi offered a solemn look. “It can't be easy being a Jewish teenager in a state that has less people than your home neighborhood."

  "I punched a kid," Uri blurted out.

  The rabbi shifted in his seat; his interest heightened. "Why in the world did you do that?"

  "He's this awful bully," Uri explained. "Not only to me but to other students, too."

  "I see," the rabbi responded. "And were there repercussions for punching this kid? Was he injured?"

  "I think I broke his nose.” Uri cringed at his confession. It sounded a lot worse now that he’d said it out loud. "But there were no repercussions, thanks to this girl who helped me out. Her name is Hannah."

  "Hannah?" the rabbi raised his eyebrows, beginning to understand where the conversation was heading. "Is this a Jewish girl?"