by Mike Allen
“This from a man who has milk in his coffee with his hamburger,” said Uncle Mark, addressing the room at large. He grabbed the bottle back and returned to the kitchen.
“Time to start,” Aunt Susan said loudly, and everyone wandered slowly into the living room and began to sit at the table.
“So I was looking for something to watch the other day,” Abram said, as he started opening a bottle of wine, “and I stopped at a channel where a writer, a rabbi I think, was talking about a legend that there were originally only 600,000 souls in the universe. At some point after the creation, each soul broke into many pieces. Which means we are all actually made up of a piece of a soul, and when all the pieces of that soul find each other, part of the universe is healed and made whole.”
Yolanda looked thoughtful. “How many pieces were in each soul, originally?”
Abram shrugged. “I missed that part of it,” he said, handing her the bottle. “Some say that each soul was made up of two parts, and when a man and a woman find each other and marry, that is the entire soul. There is also some argument as to whether the souls truly blend during life or after death. But as with everything, it’s all a matter of interpretation.”
Yolanda handed the bottle to Aunt Susan, who poured some for herself and Uncle Mark, and then passed it to Rachel’s mother. “Here,” she said, reaching across the table to another bottle, “we bought some grape juice for the girls.” She poured generous helpings into their wine cups.
“Suppose that we’re all part of an original soul,” Yolanda said, leaning across the table, “is it possible that by coming together tonight, we’re helping to heal the universe? Would that include all of us?”
“I don’t see why not,” Susan said. “After all, in this presumably enlightened age, we can assume that whatever fractured soul is involved, all the pieces aren’t necessarily Jewish. Here, it’s going to be a while before we eat,” and she broke a large flat matzoh into two pieces and handed them to the girls.
Abram’s finger came up, a sure indication that he was going into lecture mode. “Actually,” he said. “Most rabbis would probably argue that the legends only refer to Jewish souls—not that they are saying that other souls aren’t valuable,” with a nod toward Yolanda, “but they aren’t part of the Jewish mythos.”
“I’m not Jewish,” said Annie, distressed. “Can’t I be part?”
“Of course you can, Annie,” said Yolanda, frowning at Abram. “There is enough room for everyone.”
“How many?” asked Rachel, carefully biting her matzoh into a circular pattern.
“How many what?” Yolanda asked, puzzled.
“Rooms in heaven?” said Rachel, and the two girls giggled.
“Six hundred fifty two and a half,” said Uncle Mark, sitting down. “The half is a bathroom. Which everyone has to line up for each morning.”
The girls broke up and Susan blew a kiss at her husband.
“You know, maybe it’s more like a union,” Uncle Mark continued. “That would make us all official members of, say, Soul 2065.”
“Does our union have a good health plan?” asked Yolanda.
Rachel’s mom smiled. “Maybe we should have tee shirts. ‘Member of Soul 2065.’ Or hats.”
“Can I have one?” asked Rachel, immediately perking up at the idea of a present. Then she suddenly remembered. “Even if I get the four questions wrong?”
“Of course,” Aunt Susan said. “And you won’t get them wrong. I promise. Even if you make a mistake, just pretend you did it on purpose, and everybody will believe you did it right. That’s what actresses do.”
“Really?” Rachel brightened.
“Really.” Aunt Susan grinned. She stood and tapped her wineglass with her knife. “I hereby declare that this meeting of Soul 2065 is called to order.” She sat down. “Now, let’s start the seder.”
* * *
Ten years later.
Passover had come practically at the same time as Easter this year, which meant that Yolanda, who had pastoral duties in Minneapolis, wouldn’t be present. To make up for the loss, Rachel’s mom invited her friend Edward, who was getting a name for himself writing horror novels.
“You wrote Bite Me, Darling?” asked Annie, awestruck, as they took their places at the table. “That is just so incredible!” At age seventeen, both Rachel and Annie were heavily into vampires, and Edward’s latest, in which a Jamaican lesbian vampire works the late-night shift at a NYC cable station, was right up their alley.
“That’s me!” Edward beamed, delighted to have found a cheering section.
Rachel’s mom leaned over and whispered, “I’m sure he has a copy of the book with him. If you want, I’ll ask if he’ll sign one for you.”
Annie grinned and hugged Rachel’s mom. “Oh, thank you so much!”
“Hey, I’m the famous author with the book and the autograph,” Edward objected. “Don’t I get hugged?”
“She’s seventeen,” said Aunt Susan, staring at him with mock sternness. “So you get bupkis.”
Uncle Mark came back from the kitchen, having taken the turkey out of the oven. “That’s what we’re having with the turkey,” he said. “Baked bupkis. With an olive sauce.”
“Should we start?” asked Abram. “It’s getting late.”
“You’re right.” Aunt Susan tapped her fork against her wineglass to get everyone’s attention. “This meeting of Soul 2065 is hereby called to order.”
Edward leaned over to Rachel. “Okay, what’s going on?” he whispered.
“It started ten years ago,” Rachel whispered back. “We decided we were all part of a single soul, and so every year, everybody tells everyone else about the most significant thing that happened to them the past year, because it affects us all.”
“Cool,” said Edward. He looked intrigued.
Aunt Susan continued. “One of our members couldn’t be here in body, but is here in spirit—and email,” and she waved a tablet. “Okay, Mark, you start.”
“I had a bit of a scare when I woke with chest pains a couple of months ago,” said Uncle Mark. “I went to the emergency room, but it turned out to be a bad case of acid reflux. Which isn’t good, but is a lot better than a heart attack.”
“Damn right,” said Rachel’s mother. “You gave us all a hell of scare, you know that?”
“No comments allowed,” Mark reminded his sister.
“I reconnected with my sister after five years,” said Abram. “She called me out of the blue right after Yom Kippur. We talked for about a half hour, and I got her email address, so maybe we’ll stay in touch.”
“I tried out for a part in a Broadway show,” Rachel said. “They wanted a bunch of teenagers who could sing and move, and I tried out for that. I was so nervous that I went into the bathroom and threw up and had to make my face up all over again, and then I got eliminated in the first round. I was really upset at first, but then I thought about how much fun it was just to be there. Which was important.”
“You were wonderful,” said Annie. “She showed me what she was going to sing before she went. She was great.”
“Isn’t she a bit young to be running around to auditions?” asked Abram, looking as if he disapproved of the whole idea.
“It’s fine,” said Aunt Susan. “She’s very responsible. Annie, it’s your turn now.”
Annie brightened. “I’ve been looking into my family’s history,” she said enthusiastically, “and found out that they were really interesting people. Very politically involved, in a number of causes in Italy and then in America. I want to find out more.”
Rachel’s mom looked down at the table. “There’s somebody I, well, sort of like,” she said. “I haven’t had the chance to ask him out yet. I need to do that.” She bit her lip as though she was going to say something more, but had decided not to.
“Yolanda writes,” Aunt Susan said, reading from the tablet, “I am slowly learning about how difficult and wonderful it is to be a minister, although
I have to deal with red tape and bureaucratic idiocy, and some of these people really test my patience. But it’s all worthwhile.”
Aunt Susan put down the tablet and sighed. “Okay,” she said. “My turn. As most of you know, I lost my job, which isn’t something we need right now. But I’m getting some freelance gigs, and this gives me a chance to work on some of my knitting techniques.”
“You knit?” asked Annie. “Hey, I just started learning.”
“You know,” Edward said, “this one soul thing doesn’t sound bad. Can I join as well?”
“Don’t know,” Aunt Susan said, grinning. “Rachel, what do you think?”
Rachel propped her chin on her fist and looked at Edward thoughtfully. “You have to do something to qualify.”
“Like what?” Edward said, amused.
“Rachel…” said her mother, a warning note in her voice.
Rachel ignored her mother and continued to study Edward carefully. “I know,” she finally decided. “You have to write me and Annie into your next book.”
“Cool!” said Annie.
“Done!” Edward said.
* * *
Twenty years later.
The new apartment was in a rather inconvenient part of Brooklyn, but they were all there—all except, of course, Abram.
Even though Mark insisted on cooking the meal, Susan had asked several of the guests to bring side dishes to make things a bit easier. “I don’t want him to overexert himself,” she told Rachel’s mom.
“Of course,” Eileen said, and then smiled as Rachel, who had appointed herself and Annie the unofficial serving staffers, brought in some of the silverware. “And just think,” she added, “you have a famous actress shlepping for you.”
“So I understand,” said Yolanda, who was sitting at the table. “Congratulations.”
Rachel wrinkled her nose at Susan. “It’s so Off-Broadway that even a GPS could hardly find it,” she said.
“What Rachel isn’t telling you,” Annie said, “is that live theatre is what everyone is into these days. They don’t want fake 3D—they want real 3D.”
“And they want twenty-year-olds,” said Rachel. “I’m already too old for a lot of producers.”
“Modesty isn’t a virtue in an actress. I saw your notices,” Edward said. “Good ones, from major sites.”
“And she got interviewed,” said Eileen proudly. “It’s on at least sixteen different streams.”
Rachel smiled tolerantly at her mother and leaned over to Susan. “It really doesn’t mean anything. You have to be on at least thirty to be noticed.”
“Give it time,” said Annie. “I think you’re starting to create a splash.”
“Could it go viral?” asked Yolanda. “Is that still a used term?”
“Occasionally,” said Edward. “And even if it isn’t, the general idea is the same. It’s what happened to my latest book. Especially after I did this,” and he waved his hand at the top of his head—he had shaved off most of his hair except a small white round patch at top.
“It looks like a monk’s tonsure, reversed,” Yolanda said.
“Makes good video, though,” Edward said. “Especially the 3D version. It looks like a weird sort of halo.”
Susan tapped her glass. “This meeting of Soul 2065 is hereby called to order,” she said. Everyone quieted.
“I … I was thinking how to handle …” She paused, and cleared her throat. “We greet Abram and ask him to remember us,” she said. Mark looked down at the table. Nobody said anything for a minute.
Susan looked at Yolanda. “Things are going well with my new assignment,” Yolanda said, “although I still think that Minneapolis is too cold for humans. As you know, there has been a new movement among some of the more radical members of my faith to disallow female ministers; sometimes it feels as if we’re running backwards at a fast clip. But with any luck, this too shall pass.”
“I’m thinking of moving to Los Angeles,” said Edward. “My new series is doing well, but I can’t afford to be a one-shot wonder. Out west, I can diversify more. And—well, I think it’s better for me and for others.” He glanced at Eileen, who stared back coldly. There was a moment of silence.
“With Rachel no longer around, and my job being only part time, I find myself sitting in my apartment watching too many movies,” Eileen finally said in a careful tone. “I don’t think that’s healthy. I’m going to have to find something else to do. Somebody else to be with.” She looked away.
“I’m having a great time doing live theater,” said Rachel, quickly, “but it isn’t enough, even with the feeds. The pressures are just too great—if we charge as much as we need to in order to keep it going, nobody comes, and if we charge less, we won’t be able to keep it open. And only the big studios can afford to do a 3D feed. So I was actually also thinking of going out to the West Coast—maybe even next month.”
“And I’m coming with her,” said Annie. “Oops—sorry, did I interrupt?”
Rachel smiled, and touched Annie’s cheek. “It’s okay. I was done.”
“Well, actually,” Annie said cheerfully, “so was I. Except that if Edward is going west, I think we should wait a few months, so he can get settled and then help Rachel out a bit.” She grinned at him.
Edward reached over and tugged a lock of her hair gently. “Honey, I’m too old to move quickly,” he said. “You go when you want to, and as soon as I get there, I’ll make sure Rachel gets in to see the right people. Promise.”
Annie smiled. “Okay,” she said.
“I’m tired of doctors,” said Mark. “I go, and I go, and they give me tests, and feed me pills, and nothing changes. I’m just … I’ve had it with doctors.”
“I want Mark to take better care of himself,” said Susan. “That’s all.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” said Mark. “Can’t you give it a rest?”
He stood and limped back to the kitchen.
“He’ll be fine in two minutes,” Susan finally said. “He just gets angry at not being healthy. He doesn’t think it’s fair, because he stopped smoking and has been taking good care of himself, and now this.”
Rachel reached over and took her hand. “He’ll be fine, Aunt Susan,” she said.
Susan smiled, and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Of course, he will,” she said, and then looked around the table. “Well, as soon as Mark gets back, we’ll start.”
* * *
Thirty years later.
There was no seder, because there was no longer a New York City.
* * *
Forty years later.
Susan kept saying that she would find someplace else to live. After all, she wasn’t all that badly off. She rather liked California, and Congress had finally come through with at least a small amount of compensation for former residents of NYC. She was sure she had enough to invest in a condo somewhere.
Rachel, who knew exactly how much income her aunt really had, and who also knew how much medication Susan needed to sleep at night, told her that she wasn’t going anywhere. Rachel and Annie had more than enough room in their house, and anyway, Edward depended on Susan to help him with his latest series.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Susan said, while she watched Rachel put the spinach kugel in a warmer. “You girls don’t need to have an old lady tottering around in your way, and Edward doesn’t need my help. He’s just trying to make me feel useful. Which is very sweet of him, but there is no way in hell…”
“Oh, for the sweet love of Shiva,” Annie cried, throwing down the towel she was using as a potholder. Annie had taken on quite a bit of weight over the last few years; she insisted on blaming genetics, since, she said, she and Rachel ate the same foods and Rachel was still absurdly svelte. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Edward has a writer’s block so big that you could run a truck into him and he wouldn’t feel it. He is driving us completely insane. You are the only one who can save us.”
“Besides,” Rache
l added, “he said that once you and he come up with a new series, he could sell it as a dramatic stream, and I could star in it. So please, don’t do the oh-poor-me thing. Please, Aunt Susan.”
Susan shrugged. “Well…”
“Edward is asking for admittance,” the house said. It had an Italian accent this week, which Annie said was in honor of her great-grandmother.
“House, yes,” said Annie loudly, and then turned back to Susan. “We’re agreed?”
“So,” Edward said, having just come through the security door, “have you told her that resistance is futile?”
Susan didn’t laugh, but one side of her mouth quirked. “Edward, stop quoting old TV series that Rachel won’t recognize,” she said. “It’s a symptom of senility.”
“Hey,” Rachel protested. “I’m an actress. I’ve studied the classics.”
Edward kissed Susan loudly on the cheek and gave both Annie and Rachel a hug. “Hey, baby doll,” he said to Rachel. “Were you able to get Yolanda to come?”
“She wanted to,” Rachel said, “but there was another transportation lock-down yesterday, and her tickets were cancelled. So she’ll just have to vid in.”
The house was sparsely furnished—simplicity was the fashion these days—and much of the furniture was foldaway, so it took only a few minutes to put away the couch and replace it with a dining room table and chairs. Annie fiddled with the display while the others set the table.
“I wasn’t able to find the Haggadah that we used to use,” said Rachel, putting a sheet of epaper next to each place. “It was probably never digitized. But I did find a ‘roll your own’ Haggadah, and put together something as close as I could get it.”
“I’m sure you did a great job,” Edward said, settling himself into one of the chairs.
“Okay, we’re all ready,” said Annie. “Going to external visuals.” The display, which she had set up at one end of the table, brightened to show Yolanda sitting in an old-fashioned armchair in what looked like a living room. She grinned.
