by Roger Herst
"I'm sorry about being away from Ohav Shalom so much," Cici said as soon as her mother followed her grandsons into the hallway. "The boys are driving me and my mother to distraction."
"Is Abner traveling?" Gabby asked, knowing full well that he was nearly always out-of-town, a fact which made her suspicious.
"Yes, he says that he wants to cut down on his trips, but I don't seen any evidence of it. How are things at the synagogue?"
Gabby heaved a heavy sigh. "You want the truth, Cici, or just something I concoct to make you feel better?"
Cici frowned, causing her eyes to narrow into horizontal slits. "Why, the truth, of course."
"I'm under water. I know you can't help in your condition. I'm trying to keep up with all my duties and yours at the same time. I guess I could accept the fatigue, but I know that at the pace I'm running, I'm going to make a mistake along the road, and that frightens me. I'm liable to use the wrong name at a funeral, forget to show up at wedding, or say some stupid thing that will offend all and sundry. Something terrible will happen."
Cici pulled herself high in the bed, still leaning on her right side. Her frown softened. "I know the feeling, but what can I do? Dr. Tomasolo lets me out of bed only to use the bathroom. I'm going to have to make it up to you when all this is past."
"Right, Cici," Gabby said with less than full enthusiasm because she had come to believe Cici's family needs to be chronic. This wasn't the first time Cici had admitted to the problem and offered to made amends in the distant future. From the hallway, there was a loud bang that seized Cici and Gabby's attention.
Cici looked alarmed, "My God, what was that? It sounded like an explosion. Would you go and see if the boys are all right?"
"Of course," Gabby replied and moved into the hallway to investigate. At first she could see nothing unusual, then at the bottom of the stairs heard Shelly crying. Ethel Green was hunched over him, trying to determine what was wrong. Teddy was nearby, howling at Mrs. Green not to listen to his younger brother. Gabby identified what had caused the bang. A plastic toy truck had fallen down the stairs and crashed against the legs of a mahogany end table, toppling it to the ground. Gabby scrambled down the stairs to learn if any injuries had been sustained, but when she arrived, it was clear Teddy was uninjured.
Once back in the bedroom, Gabby remarked to Cici, "I guess you don't get much rest when the kids are home."
"It's a circus."
Gabby had several reasons for visiting with Cici, one of which was to get a sense when she might see her back on the job. It was obvious that her colleague would be out of commission for some time but she was thinking about coordinating her return with the arrival of Rabbi Judah Gould during her sabbatical. "I'm having trouble teaching all your adult education and religious school classes," she said. "It's about time to ask the Board about hiring someone to fill in for you. We might even require a third rabbi."
That took Cici by surprise. She responded in a defensive tone, "Is that really necessary, Gabby? I know I haven't been able to do much in my condition, but I won't always be incapacitated."
When frustrated, sometimes Gabby was known to be brutally direct. "Are you planning to have any more children after this one?"
"Abner and I haven't come to any conclusion about that. We have our hands full as it is, but I must say that whether we do or don't is a personal decision and shouldn't arise in conjunction with my job. I believe very strongly that every couple has a fundamental right to have as many children as it pleases."
"I don't agree with you, Cici. Population is a national and global issue, not just an individual one. But that's not what is on my mind at the moment and I do not wish to debate the matter now. Nor do I think that my question is inappropriate because if you're planning more children, then I'm going to have to get additional rabbinical help. It's just that simple."
"Are you restricting me?" Cici snapped.
"No, I am not. It's your business. But my business is running Ohav Shalom and that requires rabbinical services. Besides, Kye and I are trying to have our own family. If I'm lucky to get pregnant, I'm going to have to take a little time off. Judah Gould has a tight window in which to fill in for me. I must be realistic and ask what happens if I don't make that window?"
Cici lost eye contact with Gabby as she battled with a pillow to ease bed pains. "Don't ask me. I presume that you have that under control."
"I'd like to think so, Cici, but the brute fact is, I don't. When you came to Ohav, I had different expectations. I must now make changes."
Cici pulled herself up again and squeezed the pillow as an angry child with a doll. "Well, I guess you have said some bad things about me to the Board."
"That's not true and I have no intention of doing so. When members discerned dissention between Rabbi Shellenberg and myself, there were many misunderstandings that were impossible to correct. They hurt Dov's career and didn't do my standing any good either. I learned the hard way that above all the Board will not tolerate hostility between rabbis at Ohav Shalom. I pledged that so long as I am Senior Rabbi that will not happen again. For the time being, it's clear that you can do nothing but what you're doing. Bed-rest means bed-rest. I'll have to work around the problem."
"I hope you're not suggesting that I'm a slacker."
Gabby felt like agreeing with her, but knew that would only provoke contention. "No, Cici, I am not. Just have a healthy baby and come back to work as soon as you can."
After saying goodbye to Mrs. Green, Teddy, and Shelly, Gabby shuffled to her car, more depressed than before. It was clear that for the near future, she would get little help. And there was no assurance that even after the current child was born, Cici wouldn't get pregnant again.
When Gabby arrived home, Kye was still not there. He had left a brief voice mail message stating that he was running late and would be home about 9:45, which gave Gabby time for the jog she had been looking forward to all day and a chance to stop by Suburban Hospital to see Norma Sylerman. The sun had long since gone down and it was necessary to select a place with sufficient streetlights to spot pooling water that might turn to ice. A hiker-biker path flanking the C&O Canal paralleling MacArthur Boulevard fit the bill.
While she jogged, Gabby listened to the evening news through earphones connected to a Sony Walkman on her belt. Cold winter air nipped at her cheeks and encouraged her to run faster than her normal gait. Tight muscles in her legs began to ease. She was puffing hard, the first indication that her body had not yet adjusted to the demands she put upon it. In a few minutes, her lungs would adjust to using less air. On the radio, a financial analyst was rehashing numbers from the major stock exchanges, all of which were disappointingly down. Gabby noted how, after the bell rang, financial commentators always had an explanation for what had happened. Far fewer were as confident when predicting the future. The main new story for the evening was about a well-known television evangelist's battle to exonerate himself from sexual harassment charges. In an interview, Reverend Dr. Charles Moxley cited two New Testament verses, one from Corinthians and one from Mathew in his own defense, delineating the chapter and verse number for anybody who cared to check his biblical mastery. It seemed to Gabby a rather pathetic spectacle. At least when her former boss, Rabbi Seth Greer, scandalized the congregations with trysts committed on the synagogue premises, he had the good sense not to wrap himself piously in Scripture, but to resign and start a new life in Haifa.
Gabby repeated Reverend Moxley's citations in her mind, thinking it odd that he should be so specific in providing chapter and verse in a public interview. That thought led to another that caused her to slow and stop running altogether. By this time, the verses left behind by the intruders to Ohav Shalom were thoroughly engraved in her mind. She had read and re-read them perhaps forty times and never fully appreciated what she saw. Or, better said, what she didn't see. In all her experience, she had never been to a church or watched a Christian preacher refer to a biblical verse without mentioning the e
xact book, chapter, and verse from which it came. That had always struck her as rather bizarre exhibitionism because it presumed that their parishioners had paper and pen in hand to record the citations. But in her visits to both Catholic and Protestant churches, she had never seen worshippers taking notes. It was always her assumption that people went to church for inspiration, not a reading list.
But Jewish practice, about which she could speak with far greater authority, was different. She couldn't recall a rabbi ever quoting from the pulpit chapter and verse from the Old Testament. When one referred to a biblical passage, it was usually done in the context of a narrative and it was enough to identify either the story or, if a quotation, the speaker. "Jeremiah replied to King Zedekiah or Abraham lifted a dagger to slay his son, Isaac, in the Akadat Yitzak sequence." But the very ring of actually citing book and verse sounded wrong. The fact that the Ohav Shalom thieves left behind verses without bothering to tell where in Scripture they were found was quintessentially Jewish, not Christian. That was the clue needed to confirm the thieves were Jews not Gentiles.
Gabby caught the last half hour of visiting hours at Suburban Hospital. Norma Sylerman was in a semi-private room in which another female patient was chattering with two visitors. When Norma recognized Gabby coming through the door, her eyes seemed to come alive and she opened her palms in a gesture of welcome. "You just missed Roland. He's probably in the elevator this very moment."
"That's all right," Gabby leaned over the bed to plant a sisterly kiss upon Norma's cheek. "I came to let you know how much I care about you and to light the third candle for Chanukah, if you haven't already done it."
"I'm not sure I deserve either, though I had forgotten about Chanukah. It would be lovely to see the lights," Norma replied, then offhandedly offered, "And this isn't the first time you've visited me in this substance abuse unit. I'm afraid I've gone overboard again."
"You've been under a lot of stress lately," Gabby took her hand and squeezed, then reached into her handbag for a small Chanukah menorah.
One of the visitors to Norma's roommate, a young girl in her early twenties, suddenly flung her hands in the air and gesticulated in frustration. The discussion at the other bed had to do with money, and the girl was upset because she wasn't receiving her due. An elderly gentleman in a stylish blue jacket and turtleneck intervened to keep the patient from getting excited. Norma shook her head and curled her lips to indicate that this was not the first argument from the other bed.
"Here," Gabby handed Norma a box of Chanukah candles manufactured in a Northern Israel kibbutz. "Let me set the menorah next to you on this stand and you fill it with candles. It's the third night."
While Norma set five rather than three candles into the menorah, careful to follow the Ohav Shalom method of lighting one less candle each evening, Gabby asked, "How long do you estimate you'll remain here?"
"The doctors are non-committal. This was one of my worst binges. I feel as though I must now go to the back of the line and work my way forward. All those years in AA seem wasted. As you know my balance has been upset. Have you had any more contact with Carey?"
"We've traded voice mail messages if that qualifies as legitimate contact. Neither one of us is easy to get a hold of."
"Roland left messages for Carey about me. But she hasn't called. I can't tell you, Rabbi, how it hurts when my daughter doesn't even care enough to lift a phone."
"I can imagine," Gabby said. "I would be devastated. I hope this neglect of one's parents is not sanctioned by Sh'erit ha-Pletah. I'd have a dim view of the sect if that were true. We don't usually recite a Shechehanu on the third night of Chanukah, but this is a special occasion and I think it is called for." Handing Norma a pack of matches, Gabby said, "You do the honors, please."
Norma was not in a hospital gown but in cotton athletic sweat clothes. She threw back the light bedcover and dangled her legs over the bed and straightened her back. Her hand was shaking as she attempted to strike the match. It took several swipes before it ignited. Gabby moved to help her steady her hand upon the shamesh candle, but at the last moment withdrew, allowing her to do it herself. A flame suddenly enveloped the wick. Without prompting, she said, "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheynu melek ha-olam, schechehanu, v'kemanu, l'hegianu lazman ha-zeh," then immediately passed that flame to the first, second, third, fourth and fifth candles, with two additional barachot.
Both sets of eyes rested on the flames for a long moment, drawing from them a sense of continuity and warmth.
During the brief ceremony, the family of the other patient watched the candle lighting in wonder and stopped feuding. The moment each candle was lit, they resumed their argument; the older man in the blue jacket had slipped around the bed and stationed himself between the patient and the young girl, whose voice rose several decibels as her face reddened. "We can't have this," declared the gentlemen. "Grace, you must respect your mother, or leave immediately."
"My real father wouldn't permit you to get away with this!" Grace howled.
"And where is your father now?" the patient responded, her voice weak.
"I don't know, but he wouldn't let you treat me like this."
"I rest my case," said the mother. "If you don't know where your father is, how can he defend your claim?"
The daughter was breathing hard, trying to control her temper but having little success.
"I'm sorry about this," the elderly man acknowledged Norma for the first time as a neutral party in the feuding. "It's a mother-daughter thing, you know."
Norma dipped her chin as if to confess that she knew something about mother-daughter things.
It was Norma who eventually turned to address Gabby. "Roland's encouraged me to stop trying to influence Carey's life and let her be who she wants to be. I'm trying, Rabbi. Believe me, I am, but something inside me can't give her up so easily. I just cannot stand on the sidelines and let her ruin her life any more than I could condone a life of slavery."
Gabby listened carefully to Norma's choice of words, imagining herself saying the same thing to her own daughter and experiencing the same internal turmoil. Clearly, Norma was accustomed to guiding her child and couldn't sidestep graciously when it was time for Carey to make her own choices.
Twenty minutes past the official termination of visiting hours, a nurse entered the room to prepare her patients for a transfer to nurses on the night shift. Glancing at her watch, she declared it time for all visitors to leave. Gabby appreciated the extra minutes she had been granted and promised to return within a day or two.
"Are you going to talk with Carey soon?" Norma asked as Gabby was about to leave."
"I hope so."
There were tears in Norma's eyes. "Rabbi, tell her I love her, will you? Tell her I'm sorry for what's happened to me and I'm determined to do better in the future."
"Of course. That's a message anybody would welcome. I'll put in a call first thing in the morning."
Gabby did not wait until the morning. Kye had still not come home from work. She knew that Sh'erit ha-Pletah would not permit Carey and her roommate to speak on the phone after 10 p.m, but wanted to leave a message anyway.
Hag Semach, Carey. This is Rabbi Lewyn. I just visited with your mother in Suburban Hospital and have a very important message to transmit. Please call me first thing in the morning at the synagogue. By the way, you used to like my stories. I have a new one for you. Log onto the synagogue web site at Ohav Shalom.org, and click on 'Chanukah.' I'm writing an on-going series to honor each night of the festival.
She was in the bathroom preparing for bed when she noticed a dull orange spot on her underwear. The sight sent a chill through her. Menstrual bleeding coupled with swelling in her breasts was a sure sign that she wasn't pregnant. It was less a surprise than a disappointment. Her only consolation was that Melanie Ganeden found nothing in her pelvic exam or blood tests to prevent pregnancy.
Gabby was dozing in bed when Kye returned home. He padded around in the kitchen area fo
r a while, then, thinking that Gabby was already asleep, tiptoed upstairs toward their bedroom. When he finally shuffled under the covers, she rolled sideways to kiss him. "I was hoping I'd stay awake long enough to kiss you goodnight," she whispered.
He drew her into him, letting the curves of her body mold into his and rested his lips against the spot on her cheek where a dimple contracted inward when she smiled. "Did you have a good day, Gabrielle?" he whispered.
"No," she answered. "I've just started to menstruate. I had great hopes after New York. We were right on target and all the stars seemed lined up for conception, but it isn't going to happen this month."
Kye hugged her affectionately, massaging the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle. We'll make it. If not this month, then next. One way or the other, we're going to have a family. That I promise you."
He could feel the moisture of her tears on his cheek as she moved her lips over his neck in a series of kisses.
"No sense trying to second guess nature," she whispered. "This is really our first concerted effort. I guess it will come when it's ready. Incidentally, I visited Cici at home. She's a basket case and can't possibly be much of a help at the 'gog… even after delivering. I asked her point blank if she intended to keep having more babies and she took offense, claiming I was not only violating her privacy but infringing upon the sacred right of reproduction. I was only trying to get a handle on what to expect from her in the future."
"Not much," Kye answered. "It's time to fix a bad situation. People take advantage of nice guys and you're the quintessential nice guy on the block."
She returned his nibbles near her lips. "You're right. Only I'm damned if I do and dammed if I don't. I was hoping she’d just get fed up and quit. That would make everything simpler."
"Don't hold your breath. Ohav Shalom is her meal ticket. Abner's no fool. He's got Cici paying the bills, while he goes gallivanting around South America. So long as the synagogue is willing to employ Cici, she's not moving anywhere." He pressed his thigh against her pelvis and undulated, then slipped his hand under her nightshirt to rub Gabby's back. Her body responded to his rhythm. It was not their custom to make love during her period and both knew they could only go so far. Still, the desire was there. Only the phone could interrupt their play. And, believe it or not, it did.
