Firebird Alex (The Sedumen Chronicles Book 1)

by Orren Merton

  I thawed out some as we played Rayman. The games were fun, and Rachel tried very hard to be a fun companion. I just…what did we have in common? I mean, yeah, I knew that she was an orphan like me, but what does a high school graduate have in common with a girl in junior high? What did the rabbi want me to say to her? Were we supposed to bond over our tragedies or something? I really wasn’t used to making friends or being social. Even though I had agreed to come, I was pretty anxious.

  Thankfully, we didn’t talk much at all about anything other than the game we were playing. She was so bubbly and full of life when playing. When her huge, almost anime-sized eyes widened in excitement it was almost comical. Rachel may not have been my best friend or anything but I found that in spite of myself, I was having a good time.

  I needed this so much.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Rabbi Hirsch said as he entered the living room from behind us. Rachel paused the game and I turned around. I quickly tightened my lips so I didn’t bust out laughing. I was so used to seeing Rabbi Hirsch in a suit, wearing his long rabbinical Tallis and his large Kippah. This was the first time I’d seen him in a plaid button-down shirt and jeans with a full-length white apron.

  “I’m very glad you didn’t find a reason to stay home,” he smiled.

  I got out of the plush chair I was sitting in. “Thanks for the invite, Rabbi.”

  He laughed as he walked over and hugged me. “Please, in here call me Norm.”

  “Norm?” I nearly spit. This was my childhood rabbi. The voice of tradition, of authority. The wise man who knew about God. The man who presided over my Bat Mitzvah. The man who buried my mother. Would I ever be able to think of him as just Norm, the dude in the apron?

  “I…honestly, Rabbi, I don’t know if I can…”

  “All right,” he grinned. “But please call me Rabbi Norm in my home. Rabbi Hirsch is too formal for here.”

  “I’ll try…Rabbi Norm…” It felt really weird to say.

  “I know what you mean, I felt weird at first calling him anything other than Rabbi,” Rachel said. “He was my kindergarten and first grade rabbi, you know? Now it’s weird to not call him Dad!”

  “I’m sure,” I nodded.

  “Had I been thinking, I would have asked you earlier today what you liked to eat,” Rabbi Norm said. “So I hope there will be something here that you’ll enjoy. I’m making a salad tossed in balsamic vinaigrette, brisket with potatoes and asparagus, and leftover Challah from our Shabbat dinner last night.”

  “Sounds amazing,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

  “With luck I won’t ruin it,” he inhaled. “Okay, you girls have probably another half-hour before dinner. Enjoy yourselves, and I’ll let you know when it’s ready.

  We nodded, then sat back down and continued playing and talking. By the time dinner was ready we had talked in between mini-games about our parents. Like me, Rachel never knew her dad, although she said that she kept on her laptop one picture of her parents together and happy when she was a baby. Also, like my mother, her mother was extremely sickly, in and out of hospitals. At the end her mother was in the hospital for one reason or another and died of a heart attack. Rachel got very distant when talking about her mom, almost as if she was talking about someone else. I felt bad about making her sad so I stopped talking and focused on our game until we unlocked another mini-game and Rachel excitedly showed me how to play it.

  “Dinner’s ready!” the rabbi called from the kitchen. Rachel turned off the PlayStation and TV and we walked through the living room to the dining room where arranged on a large oval table were platters and bowls of food, a pitcher of water, three table settings, and two tall candles in the middle.

  “Help yourself to whatever you’d like,” the rabbi said as he stood by his chair, waiting for us to sit down first. I raised the corners of my mouth in a quick smile as I sat down and put my paper napkin on my lap.

  “You’re not obligated to eat anything you don’t want to eat, and you don’t have to pretend you like anything that you don’t,” he said.

  I thanked the rabbi and filled my plate with embarrassingly large portions of everything. It had been so long since I’d had a really good meal…I didn’t want to look like a pig, but I also didn’t want to let this opportunity go to waste. I looked down at my plate, filled to nearly overflowing, and I was about to apologize when I noticed that Rabbi Norm seemed thrilled. So I decided not to and offered a grateful half-smile instead.

  After shoveling food into my mouth for a while and savoring every bite, I heard Rachel speak.

  “Mmmmm! This is so good, Dad!” she beamed in between huge bites.

  “It really is,” I nodded energetically as I grabbed my water glass to wash down what I’d eaten so far. “A great rabbi and a great chef? Is that a common combination?” I asked.

  “Thank you so much, Alex! And I’m not sure how many rabbis like to cook,” he chuckled between bites of salad. “But I’ve always loved cooking. I think my wife married me because I could cook better than she could.”

  I knew about the rabbi’s wife, but I didn’t know what to say. Part of me thought that I should just say nothing, but since he brought her up, I felt like maybe he wanted to talk. And I did have a question….

  “You two never had any children, did you?”

  “We would have loved to,” he smiled sadly. “We tried every treatment and technology we could, starting about twenty years ago, for nearly a decade. But nothing worked. We were actually in the process of adopting ten years ago when the accident happened.”

  I put down my forkful of brisket. Now I felt bad. “Rabbi, I’m—”

  “No, it’s fine, Alex. I don’t mind talking about her. Tragedy is a part of life, just as much as joy. We share our humanity by talking about both.”

  I nodded.

  “Besides, now he has me!” Rachel nearly shouted, a huge ear-to-ear grin on her face.

  Rabbi Norm laughed and nodded. “Exactly what I mean. Nothing erases the pain of tragedy, but new joys bring renewed value and purpose to life.”

  I nodded again.

  “Dad had to fight for me,” Rachel said. “I was really small, but I remember.”

  I turned to the rabbi and gave him my what-does-she-mean-by-that look.

  “Generally, Social Services first tries to place children with living family members. After that, they will put a child in the system to be fostered by two-person couples of adults generally aged thirty to forty-five. I had three strikes against me: I wasn’t biological family, I was unmarried, and I was already over 55.”

  “But being a rabbi had to help, right?” I asked.

  “Less than you’d think. Being clergy would hopefully count toward my worthiness on a moral level, but being a rabbi is also an especially ‘on call’ type of job, not ideal for child rearing as a single parent. But I had a full support network, all of whom vouched for me, and in her will Rachel’s mother did ask for me to be appointed guardian, so it worked out. Technically I’m still only a foster parent; the adoption has been ongoing for three years and counting. But at this point, I’m not worried they’ll take her away.”

  “So when you say support network…”

  “I mean everyone in the congregation who helps me take care of Rachel, my brother and his family, and so on. Why?”

  I shrugged my shoulder. “I was just wondering…if maybe…”

  Rabbi Norm’s mouth slowly turned up with that knowing smile again. “…if there is another potential Mrs. Hirsch on the horizon?”

  I shrugged and looked down at my nearly empty plate. “Yeah…I’m sorry if the question is insensitive…”

  “Of course not,” the rabbi said. “It’s been a decade. And if there were someone, I’m sure that my Nancy would approve; she’d want me to be happy, to live a complete and fulfilled life. That’s why I know she’d be absolutely over the moon with Rachel.” He smiled and winked at his daughter, and she pretended to roll her eyes and shake her head,
but her smile gave away that she loved it.

  “But right now I’m focused on being the best father and the best rabbi that I can.”

  I nodded.

  “Besides, it’s not easy for a rabbi to date. It’s tough for people to get past the vocation and see me as just other person. Think about how difficult it is for you to call me Norm.”

  He had a point. He would always be my rabbi to me. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “Now you, on the other hand…” Rabbi Norm’s grin took on that impish character again.

  “Me?”

  “Jake was asking me about you at the lunch party today. What did I know about you, do I know if you have a boyfriend and such.”

  Rachel swallowed her mouthful and shot me a teasing grin.

  I shook my head.

  “That’s sweet…but I don’t date.”

  “Come now, Alex,” Rabbi Norm said in a warm, reassuring tone. “I am aware of the great pain you are enduring right now, but I know your mother would want you to live a full life. We all grieve in our own way, but you are not doing a service to her memory by disengaging from the world. I’m not saying that you need to become a wild party girl but seeing Dr. Rosenberg for some sessions, maybe going out to lunch or dinner with a young man—”

  “I can’t date,” I said flatly. “It’s not that simple.”

  This was getting far too close, too personal. I put my arms around my chest, like I was holding myself together.

  “Alex, some things are that simple, if you let them be. I’ll bet that after a few sessions with Dr. Rosenberg—”

  “It’s not just grief, Rabbi. I couldn’t date when Mom was alive. I just…I can’t,” I scowled.

  I noticed Rachel was staring at me with concern. It was sweet. I made sure I didn’t scowl at her.

  “Did your mother know the reason you feel you can’t date?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She was the only one.”

  Rabbi Norm nodded, as if thinking.

  “Alex,” Rabbi Norm reached his hand from his place setting to my right and gently placed it near my own place setting. “Would you trust me with the reason? I promise that I will not judge you, whatever it is. But I do want to see if maybe it’s something we can work through. No one should shut themselves away, Alex.”

  “Believe me, if you knew what I was, you’d want me shut away. This isn’t something you can talk me through, Rabbi.”

  “May I determine that for myself, Alex? Your mother…you are your own person, of course. But perhaps whatever your reason is, if your mother knew it, maybe she would have trusted me with it. But it’s your decision, of course.”

  I stared at the rabbi. Rabbi Norm. Norman. Was this possibly the only other adult that I could trust? My mom thought so. And I trusted my mom’s judgment of people. But to tell Rabbi Norm everything…Would she have told him something like this? The thought scared me…but excited me too.

  “You’ll never think of me the same again. I’m…it’s too awful…” I couldn’t help myself; my eyes started to get hot.

  “Rachel,” Rabbi Norm began, “maybe you should—”

  “Please,” Rachel pleaded with me. “I promise I won’t tell. And I care, I really do.”

  I turned to Rachel. The concern in her face floored me. I’d only known this girl for a couple hours at this point, but she already looked like she was worried about a lifelong friend. I didn’t feel that close to her, but it felt nice to have that support.

  “You can stay,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them I wouldn’t be crying.

  “I’m not human,” I said.

  I opened my eyes. Nope, I was crying. I rubbed the tears out of them and put my hands on the table.

  Rabbi Norm took hold of my hand gently in his own. It felt coarse and warm and comforting. “Alexandra, you are as human as—”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I shook my head. I yanked my hand out from the rabbi’s but then felt bad about that; I knew he was just trying to be supportive. “I’m serious. My mother was a human being, just like you or Rachel. But my father really wasn’t. He was…he was…a demon.”

  Rabbi Norm sighed and shook his head. “Alex…I understand that your parentage may have been unusual. Frightening, even. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t have a life, a nice evening with a young—”

  “Are you kidding?” I nearly shouted, getting frustrated. “That’s exactly what it means! I can’t go out with boys and risk turning into a demon and killing them or…”

  I stopped talking, and stared incredulously at Rabbi Norm. Not at how he reacted, but how he didn’t react.

  “Alex, please believe me, despite what you may fear, you—”

  “You believe me?” I asked, wide-eyed.

  “I do,” Rabbi Norm nodded.

  “Just like that? You just…You’re not…you’re not even surprised,” I raised my voice.

  “Should I have been shocked? Or not believed you? I had asked you to trust me, I didn’t want to repay your—”

  “Did you know?” I demanded. “Did my mother tell you?”

  Rabbi Norm sighed. He gazed right into my eyes with that wise, kindly expression that I knew and loved. “Your mother trusted me. And when she knew…when her health was failing, she asked me to look in on you when she was gone. And privately, sworn to secrecy, she told me why she would only trust me to do this.”

  I felt both relieved and angry. It felt good to have someone else in the world who knew my secret. Instantly, I felt less alone. But I was also angry. Angry my mom had told Rabbi Norm without asking me first. It was my secret after all! And mad that Rabbi Norm hadn’t told me that he knew sooner. What was he waiting for? I could have felt less alone for weeks now!

  I didn’t know how to express what was in my mind…so I just shut down.

  “Well…then you should know why I can’t date,” I insisted.

  “I know nothing of the kind,” Rabbi Norm said, in his soft voice. “You are different. You have a heritage that is unique. But you are also a young woman. And as a young woman—”

  “I’m not a young woman!” I yelled. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I’m a young demon!”

  With that last word, I slammed my hand down on the tablecloth.

  And then it happened.

  My eyes and my scalp felt hot. Although it didn’t burn me, I could feel flames engulfing my hair and burning outward from my eyes.

  Rachel gasped and jumped in her seat. Rabbi Norm just stared at me. I sat up straighter so that my hair was farther away from the tablecloth.

  Well, now they really knew. I felt awkward, scared, and embarrassed. I lowered my eyes and swallowed nervously.

  “This is what I meant,” I mumbled.

  Nobody said anything, just stared at me. I felt so self-conscious I could’ve died right then and there. Part of me wanted to.

  Eventually, Rachel spoke. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “No,” I answered slowly.

  “Do you feel…does it feel different at all?”

  “I can feel that the flames are hot, but they don’t burn me. Actually, I’ve never been burned in my life. I don’t think I can get burned.”

  “Really? That’s cool,” Rachel said, her enthusiasm coming back. “Can you…do stuff? Like—do you have superpowers?”

  “Well, I can do this…” I picked up the paper napkin in my lap and held it over my water glass. I concentrated for a moment and then the napkin in my hand burst into flames.

  “Whoa!” Rachel said.

  I dumped the napkin in my water glass.

  “Can you just think things on fire?” she asked.

  “No, I have to touch it with my hands,” I said. “I also have never been sick. I’ve never even had a cold. And I heal from cuts and bruises and stuff pretty fast. I’m pretty strong too, but not like superhero strong. That may just be from the karate classes Mom put me in when I was little, though.”

  “Nice!” Ra
chel said, her eyes wide. “You don’t have to, like, eat people do you?”

  I couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit. “No, I eat just like everyone else.” I turned to the rabbi, who was looking kind of pale. “When I go to see doctors, I look just the same on the inside as any other girl. So it’s not like I have some sort of difference in my organs or cells or something. I’m just…a demon.”

  “Half-demon,” Rachel corrected.

  “Half-demon,” I nodded with a slight smile. I was grateful that to Rachel, at least, I was still not a total monster.

  “Have you met your dad?” Rachel asked.

  “No, never. When my mother found out what he was, she sent him away and never saw or spoke to him again. But she was already pregnant with me by then.”

  “Do wish you could meet him?” Rachel asked.

  I thought about that for a minute. “I don’t know…I mean, I kinda do…but I’d be scared, too. What if my dad’s this evil monster that kills or tortures people or something, do I want to know? Do I…do I want that to be me?”

  “Were you always like this?” she asked.

  “No. I mean, yeah, I was always half-demon,” I corrected myself, “but it didn’t show until I hit puberty. I got really angry and nearly burned our condo down. I was scared, and after I returned to normal, Mom told me the truth.”

  “How long does it last?” Rachel asked.

  “It just happens when I’m really angry or excited, and when I calm down, it stops.”

  And just like I’d said, about a minute later I was calm enough that my hair returned to its normal dark brown and my eyes to their normal blue.

  “Can I…” Rachel reached across the table to me. She looked at both Rabbi Norm and me.

  I leaned forward to move my head closer to Rachel. “Sure, it’s not hot.”

  Rabbi Norm nodded.

  Rachel reached for a small lock of my hair and ran it through her fingers. “It’s not burned at all!”

  “Nope,” I agreed.

  I turned to Rabbi Norm. “Please say something,” I asked, feeling kind of anxious.

  It looked like he was going to open his mouth to speak…but he didn’t. Instead Rabbi Norm slowly reached toward me and put his hand around my water glass, staring at the charred paper and soaked napkin within. “Let me get you a fresh glass,” he said. He stood up with my glass and walked to the kitchen.