Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Benjamin Laskin

  Malkah thought she’d test Gideon to see how serious he was. “I do want kids,” she said. “Lots of the little buggers.” She glanced at Gideon to gauge his reaction to her ploy. To her dismay, he beamed.

  “Great,” he said with a clap of his hands. “What a blast. And we’ll homeschool them. Our kids aren’t going to be turned into zombies at some government-run indoctrination center. No way. Unlike the NPF, homeschooling is still legal throughout the Liberty Coalition.”

  Malkah gulped. Was he serious, or just calling my bluff?

  She observed Gideon as he enthusiastically described the way he would bring up their kids to be self-reliant, rugged individualists. She had never seen him so animated. A wave of apprehension washed over her, but his exuberance was intoxicating, and soon she began to join in with the fun.

  Gideon dropped Malkah off three blocks from Beverly’s home and told her he’d call her later. She waved goodbye and started walking, her mind feverishly trying to make sense of all that was happening to her and around her. She could have kept walking for miles, as doing so seemed to have a palliative effect, but before she knew it she was buzzing Beverly’s apartment.

  Poor Beverly was in even worse shape than Malkah had expected. Malkah sat with her arm around her on the floor of the run-down, cluttered studio apartment, their backs against the unmade bed, and a roll of toilet paper on Beverly’s lap, which she used to mop up the tears that ran in rivulets down her heavily made-up face, and to blow her nose.

  Malkah said little, letting her girlfriend pour out her grief and woes. Beverly recounted numerous anecdotes of Saul’s kindness to her over the years, and seemed particularly bothered that she had never properly thanked him or done anything worth mentioning in return. This led to a renewed round of sobbing.

  Eventually, her grief having drained through her eyeballs and nose, Beverly’s addled mind turned to her personal troubles, which were legion. She told Malkah that she had called four different boyfriends the previous night, but not one of them showed her the least bit of sympathy.

  “They only offered to come over and bop me,” she said.

  As for Beverly’s girlfriends, they all had their own set of troubles. Malkah, who had picked up a quart of Bev’s favorite ice cream on the way, was the only person to check in on her to see how she was doing.

  Beverly had no brothers or sisters to confide in, and her divorced parents were unresponsive. She left a message on her dad’s phone, but he had yet to call her back. She felt certain that he didn’t return her call because he was afraid she’d ask him for money, or to move in with him.

  She did speak briefly to her mother on the phone an hour before Malkah had arrived. Her mother made it clear that she had no money and that she had rented out Beverly’s room since the last time they talked. Her mother also said that she had seen the story of the murder on TV and told Beverly that she never should have gone to work for that Jewish crook.

  “Was Saul really working for the mob?” she innocently asked Malkah.

  “No, Bev. He was exactly who you knew him to be—a good, decent, and humble man who treated you like a daughter.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Beverly sniffled. “But I don’t understand why people would say such terrible things about an old man who had just been stabbed to death.”

  Beverly also worried about what she would do now that the restaurant was closed, which brought a new cascade of tears. Malkah tried to comfort her by saying that with her experience she could find a new waitressing job, but Beverly wasn’t so sure.

  Malkah felt guilty. By sheer luck, she thought, I have Gideon. With him she had both a caring ear and a new future. She didn’t tell Beverly about Gideon’s proposal, however. Now was not the time. She knew that her simple and faithful friend would be happy for her, but it somehow seemed cruel, and she didn’t want to chance making Beverly feel more alone and helpless than she already did.

  Malkah offered Beverly some encouragement, and promised her that tomorrow she would go with her to apply for jobs at every restaurant they knew. This cheered Beverly considerably, if only because she looked forward to spending the day with her pretty friend. Malkah kissed Beverly on the forehead and left her in front of the TV with a teaspoon and a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

  Exiting back onto the street, Malkah recalled the calming effect of her stroll to Beverly’s, and so decided to save the fare and walk the hour and a half to visit her bubby. It was a brisk, windy, early spring day, but the blue sky and bright sunshine warmed her from the inside out.

  Now with a chance to be alone with her thoughts, she tried to make sense of the new developments in her life. There were the tragedies, the surprises, and the mysteries, but something else nagged at her.

  It was when she saw an advertisement on a large billboard that it hit her. The ad was of a smiling, attractive woman in a business suit and briefcase breezing past a frumpy, tired-looking woman on a park bench with two smudge-faced kids climbing on her. To the left of the downcast woman were the words: ‘Give us today.’ And in front of the strutting model: ‘and we’ll give you tomorrow.’ It was an advertisement for a business school, but Malkah thought it could just as easily have been an ad for one of the state-funded abortion clinics.

  What it brought home to Malkah was the fear that she was depending too much on Gideon for her happiness. Was she just acting out of desperation? Was she about to turn over her identity to him? She knew that her cousin Ellen certainly would think so. When she was a waitress without a future, she was at least still a waitress with tips and a paycheck, and the future could, well, wait.

  Now she wondered if she wasn’t just giving up and taking the path of least resistance. She had to admit that she didn’t know Gideon for very long. Was she being rash? Was she allowing herself to be taken advantage of in a time of crisis?

  But most troubling of all was what she called the other ‘stuff’; her secret life that had disappeared along with her Midrashic record, just as Gideon’s and her cousin Ellen’s records had. The ‘stuff’ that had prompted her to use her cell phone to photograph and document the contents of Gideon’s office while he slept.

  Malkah wheeled her grandmother out into the sunshine of the terrace, recounted recent events, and put the proposition of resettling in the SFF to her.

  Her bubby was shocked by Saul’s death and distressed by the media coverage, but she was thrilled with the news of the marriage proposal. She never expected to make another move in her dwindling life, but if Malkah was sure she wouldn’t be a bother, she’d gladly go to Phoenix with her darling granddaughter, or anywhere else for that matter. Malkah’s concern for her touched the old woman more than news of the proposal, and brought tears to her eyes. As for Malkah’s anxiety and diffidence, her bubby told her not to listen to her “fear demons.”

  “Did you just say fear demons?” Malkah asked.

  “What else would you call your insecurities?”

  “But you’re not saying that we have actual demons inside of us, are you?”

  Her bubby shrugged her bony shoulders. “We might,” she said. “I’m sure Ellen would have fancy words for our fears and insecurities, but I’m simple-minded. Demons work for me. In my almost ninety years, I’ve seen what they can do to people. I’ve known only a few individuals along the way who seemed able to defeat them. Call them what you will, dear, but don’t let them intimidate you. Do you love this Gideon fellow?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so. Well, let me put it this way. If you told him that you wanted to wait, would he continue on to Phoenix without you?”

  “I couldn’t ask him not to. That would be very selfish of me, don’t you think? It’s his line of work.”

  “And if he left, would you expect him to wait for you as you deliberate and look for another waitressing or maybe clerical job? Would that be fulfilling enough for you?”

  “No…”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “We
ll, maybe I’m just acting out of desperation. Maybe I’m selling myself short, or off, or out, or…you know, not living up to my full potential, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

  “You’re not selling anything, sweetie. Instead, maybe your problem is that you’re buying—buying into the myth that you are supposed to be something that you’re not, or that you really don’t want to be.”

  “I know, Bubby. I’m confused. I guess I just wish I had a little more time.”

  “How much more time do you think you need? Weeks, months, a year?”

  Malkah sighed and took her grandmother’s mottled hands in hers. They were cold, and she instinctively began to rub them for her.

  After a long minute she said, “So you think I should just take the plunge?”

  “I don’t think it’s a plunge, Malkah. The tide is always rising, and we all end up in over our heads one way or another. My advice is to learn how to swim.”

  40

  Free Agent

  It took Malkah the rest of the morning and a phone call to Sara Jeffreys to hunt down Cyrus.

  She found him at a midtown construction site in the middle of lunch. Dressed in workman overalls, a thick blue sweater, and wearing a yellow hard hat, he was sitting on a wooden plank fifteen stories up, his feet dangling over the edge.

  The site’s foreman, a middle-aged man with a beer gut and two days of gray whiskers pointed him out to her and called up to Cyrus by walkie-talkie. Malkah waved to the ant-sized Cyrus. He stood, waved back, and disappeared into the building’s skeleton.

  While she waited for him to come down, the foreman took advantage of the rare sight of a beautiful woman on the premises and struck up a conversation.

  “Are you Cyrus’s girl?” he asked.

  “Just friends.”

  “Too bad,” the man said. “He’s an amazing guy. I’ve never met anyone like him. There isn’t anything that guy doesn’t know or can’t do.”

  Malkah smiled. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah. Beats the hell out of me why he sticks around here. Seems to me he could be anything he wants.”

  “Maybe he likes it.”

  “Yeah, well, it makes no sense to me. But, hey, I’m glad he’s here. Got a problem, call Cyrus. Ever since he showed up my job has been a hell of a lot easier. Nice guy too. He’s got a few tics, but he’s as genuine as the day is long.”

  “Tics?”

  “A little eccentric, you know. But they say that goes with genius, so what the hell. He’s a damn good man and straight as an arrow. But I’m guessing you know all this, eh?”

  “A little,” Malkah said. “What kind of ‘tics’?”

  “Nothing bad,” the man said, chiding himself for having brought it up. “But, well, one of the first things he did was put a little thingumajiggy on the side of where the entrance to the building is gonna be. He calls it a mezuzu or something.”

  “Mezuzah.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. He kisses it whenever he goes in or out. Look there! Ya see! He just did it.” The man laughed. “Character, that one.”

  “How’d he get down here so fast?” Malkah asked, surprised.

  “Oh, that’s another thing. He doesn’t use the stairs or lift like everyone else. He slides down railings and poles, and goes leaping about like a billy goat. He says it helps him to keep in shape. I think he’s some sort of kung fu guy or something. He’s fast as hell and strong as an ox. I tell you, the guy is really something.”

  “Ever ask him about it?”

  “Yeah, at first, but he’s real modest and doesn’t like to talk about his past. I can respect that. Most guys here have a past, if you know what I mean. Besides, I don’t want to chance losing him! The guy does the work of ten of my lazy bums!”

  “Frank,” Cyrus said, strolling up, “thanks for entertaining my friend.”

  “Are you kidding? As opposed to doing what? Hanging out with those slobbering goons?”

  Frank nodded towards some of the crew sitting fifteen yards away finishing their sandwiches. They had been gawking at Malkah since she had arrived.

  “Yes, well, thanks all the same.” He turned to Malkah. “What brings you here?”

  “I was hoping we could talk.”

  Cyrus glanced about and took in the shadows and slant of the sun.

  “Lunch is over in three and a half minutes,” he said with a frown.

  Frank looked at his watch and chuckled. “See what I mean?” he said to Malkah. “Tics.” He laughed and slapped Cyrus on the back. “Don’t keep the lady waiting, ya goofball.”

  He waved the two away with his hand, and shaking his head in amusement, strolled off to where the other construction workers were sitting.

  “Nice guy,” Malkah said.

  “Yeah, he’s been really good to me. Walk?”

  She fell in beside him and they strolled towards a small hill of bricks and bags of cement at the edge of the construction site.

  Malkah’s head bubbled with questions and she had so much she wanted to talk about, but she didn’t know where to begin. Cyrus saved her the trouble.

  “Congratulations, Malkah. I’m really happy for you. Happier than you could possibly know.”

  “Huh? How’d you know? Did Gideon tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Then…?”

  “Your ring,” he said with a smile. “I’m pretty observant, remember?”

  Malkah did remember, now that he reminded her. She recalled his powers of observation back at Saul’s Deli the first time they had met. She chuckled thinking that it is just such a thing that must continually mystify Frank the foreman.

  She held her hand out and let the little diamond catch some sunbeams in its prism. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s one of the matters I wanted to talk to you about.”

  When they reached their destination, Cyrus brushed off the dirt and sawdust from a stack of red bricks and laid a paisley blue bandana on top. He motioned for her to sit. He tossed a bag of cement on top of two other bags and sat across from her. Malkah wondered how much a bag weighed, because Cyrus picked it up and moved the sack as if it were filled with popcorn.

  Getting straight to the heart of the matter, Cyrus said, “Gideon will make a fine husband. Trust me, I have considerable experience in these things.”

  “But you’re not a cupid angel anymore, so how can you be so sure?”

  Malkah felt silly saying such a thing aloud, and caught herself looking around to see if anyone could be within earshot. The closest set of ears, however, was shouting distance away.

  “Listen, you and Gideon need do only two things—devote yourselves wholeheartedly to each other, and take pleasure in doing kindness to one another.”

  “None of your friends had anything to do with Gideon and I getting together, did they? We weren’t shot with a cupid’s arrow, or whatever it is they do, were we? ‘Cuz that would be—”

  “Cheating?”

  “Perverse is closer to what I had in mind.”

  Cyrus smiled. “Don’t let your heart be troubled. No cupid, angel or otherwise, had anything to do with you two meeting and falling in love. But remember, even behind the work of an angel is the ever-present, guiding hand of God.”

  Malkah didn’t know what to make of Cyrus’s words. Looking into his limpid blue eyes she didn’t doubt that he believed what he was saying, but no matter his sincerity, it was all still so incredible.

  “Have you ever spoken of any of these things with Gideon?” she asked.

  “We had some interesting conversations, but if you’re asking if I confided in him as I have with you, the answer is no.”

  “But why not? He would be much more accepting than I am. He is a believer, Cyrus. He told me things that could have almost come from your lips! He knows about angels and yetzers. So much so, that if I hadn’t have spoken to you first, I’d have written him off as a lunatic and fled from him as fast as my feet would carry me.”

  “For those very reasons,” Cyr
us said. “He needs no convincing. He has emuna, abiding faith, and that is better than acknowledgement.”

  “But he believes some other things too, Cyrus. Scary things. And I worry about him because of them.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “What do you know about the Lamed-Vavniks?”

  “He told you about them?”

  Malkah nodded. “Righteous persons whose prayers and kindness keep the world together. Thirty-six of them must remain in every generation if we are to continue.”

  “That is so.”

  “It is?” Malkah’s face blanched. “It’s not just a myth?”

  “Much in Heaven is mirrored on Earth, Malkah. Not exactly in the same way, for the vibrations and frequencies of Earth are inferior to those above. Yet, if Earth had angels, the Lamed-Vavniks would be the closest thing to them. But you look distraught. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s almost too crazy to repeat.”

  Cyrus chuckled. “Malkah, you’re talking to a man who claims he was an angel of God. I doubt there is anything you could say that would shock me.”

  Malkah juggled his point in her head, and nodded. “Gideon believes that the righteous of the world are being eliminated one by one. Murdered. He believes his grandfather was one of them.”

  “His grandfather was indeed murdered. Whether he was truly a Lamed-Vavnik, neither Gideon nor I could know for sure. But he was righteous, yes.”

  “And Saul, my boss at the deli. Gideon suspects that he too was one.”

  “Again, I don’t know. But, yes, he too lived a righteous life. There are many, many people who are good and righteous, Malkah. It may not seem so because we rarely hear about them, but they are out there living lives of quiet faithfulness.”

  “So what’s the difference? Why would one righteous person qualify as a Lamed-Vavnik and not another?”

  “Their prayers,” Cyrus said. “The prayers of the Lamed-Vavnik are special. They are said with an intensity that most others aren’t. They are filled with light and love, and can strum the pillars of Heaven like harp strings. That said, it is a subject I cannot speak about with authority. As far as angels go, I was quite low on the ladder. High above me, others who are privy to such things probably know, but not me, I’m afraid.”