by Orren Merton
I turned to Rachel. I shook my head slightly and raised my eyebrows a bit, using my body language to ask her what she thought was up.
She nodded and curled her face to say it’s okay. I finally exhaled. God I hoped so. I wiped my eyes.
He came back with a fresh glass of water for me.
“Thanks,” I said, picking it up and taking a small sip.
Rabbi Norm inhaled slowly. “It’s one thing to hear the words…to know what you were capable of…but it’s another thing entirely to see it with your own eyes.”
I nodded. “So you’re not…upset?”
“Upset? Of course not. I’m surprised, of course. But I had already believed your mother, and believed you. If anything, I feel the need to apologize to you.”
“Me?”
“I shouldn’t have upset you by discounting how you felt,” he said.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “And…” I shrugged.
“And what?” Rabbi Norm prodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew? Why didn’t my mom tell me she told you?”
“Your mother wanted you to come to me yourself, and I respected her wishes,” Rabbi Norm explained. “She wanted you to decide to trust me for yourself, to not feel like you were ‘handed off’ to me, as she put it. Please don’t be upset with her, Alex. Please understand that only love and concern ever motivated your mother, even if she might have made different choices.”
I nodded. My eyes started getting hot again.
“But the important thing is—and what I’ve been trying to impart to you—whatever your parentage, you are not evil. I believe with all my heart in free will, that you choose your own path. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But sometimes I worry that…the same way that my demon-ness came out, one day I’ll change completely into a monster, you know?”
“I certainly can understand why that would worry you,” Rabbi Norm said. “But regardless of your physical abilities, you are and will always be Alexandra Gold, not a demon. It just so happens that Alex has capabilities other people don’t. And while this may present you with unique challenges, it doesn’t mean you can’t engage with the world.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, slightly hopefully.
“I am sure of very little,” Rabbi Norm said. “But I am sure that an eighteen-year-old girl needs to be part of the world around her. Even if her hair and eyes can light on fire.”
I looked at him thankfully. “I…I’d like to. But I don’t know how.”
“Let’s figure it out together,” Rabbi Norm offered.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You’re not…afraid of me?”
“No,” he said.
“I’m not either,” Rachel jumped in with a huge grin.
“I can see that,” I replied, trying to put on a tiny grin in return.
“And this is why you only saw Dr. Rosenberg the one time?” Rabbi Norm surmised.
“Yup.”
Rabbi Norm nodded. “So can we talk instead?”
I sighed. “Rabbi, I know you want to help, and it means a lot to me, truly. But grief counseling isn’t—”
“I’m not a grief counselor,” he said. “But as a friend—if you consider me a friend—I’d like to just talk. Yes, I’d like to talk about loss, but more than that. Can you stay tonight?”
“Could you?” Rachel added enthusiastically. “There’s a guest bed in my room, and I’ve got a Game Boy and games on my tablet—”
“And we have an empty guest room as well,” Rabbi Norm reminded her. “Alex has many choices of accommodations. But before you two play games into the wee hours, I’d like to have that talk. Alex, what do you say?”
“All right. It would be nice to get out of the condo for an evening.”
“Good,” Rabbi Norm said. He rose, taking his plate and reaching for as many of the mostly empty serving dishes as he could carry at once. I got up and grabbed my used dishes.
“Oh no, you don’t—”
“Please, let me clean up after myself,” I insisted.
The rabbi nodded. Rachel picked up the remaining dishes and followed us.
“Rachel, while Alex and I talk in the study, would you mind doing the dishes?”
“Sure,” she said. “After that, games?”
“Mmm hmmm,” the rabbi agreed. He took his water glass and turned toward me.
“Alex?” he gestured out of the kitchen. I took my own water glass and started walking. He directed me down the hallway from the living room, passed the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, into a small room filled with more massive bookshelves, a huge brown desk, and two leather chairs with a small round side table between them.
He pointed toward one of them. I put my water glass on the side table, then sat down in the chair. It was incredibly comfortable. I practically sank into it. He sat in the other.
“Alex, even though I knew your mother better than most congregants, I’d love to know more. Would you be comfortable sharing one of your favorite memories of your mom with me?”
“Sure,” I shrugged. A million memories rushed through my head at once. Mom holding me and laughing. Mom reading poetry to me in the park. Taking me out to eat. Watching TV with me. Reading over my homework. God I missed her so much…
“When I was about ten years old, I…” my throat caught on my words and I quickly reached for my water glass and took a long sip.
When I started to talk again, I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and I stopped and wiped them on my sleeve. I wanted her to be sitting next to me so badly. But it did feel good to have someone to talk to—even if I could barely speak.
Rabbi Norm got up and walked over to his desk. He took a box of tissues and put it on the small side table by my chair.
“Please take your time, as much as you need. And if you feel you need to stop at any point—”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, wiping the tears away. “I want to.”
3
Saturday night ended up being rough, but I really needed it. Rabbi Norm and I talked for hours…we talked about my mom, what she meant to me, what she’d want for me. And he shared too, how he was affected by the loss of his wife, his true partner in every way—that he’d actually thought for a while about quitting being a rabbi. He was so lost and upset he didn’t know if he had it in him anymore without his wife by his side.
I’d never really talked to anyone about my mom—not just losing her, but what she was like—and I had no idea how good it would feel after pouring my heart out like that. I think I used up his whole box of tissues. Even though it was after midnight by then, Rachael and I spent nearly the rest of night playing video games. We ended up not going to bed at all, just crashing on the couches.
Waking up Sunday with people around me was an experience I’d not had since Mom died. And it felt really, really good. When I went to take a shower I actually broke down and cried out of the sheer joy of not being alone in the morning. I didn’t tell Rabbi Norm or Rachel about that, though; I didn’t want them to think I was as messed up as…well, as I felt like I was.
The rabbi offered to take us out to breakfast, which was really more like brunch at that point. I told him that I didn’t want to impose, but I was thrilled and excited at the offer. I also think he saw right through me. He drove us to the Tustin Marketplace only a mile away where we went to Martha’s Kitchen and I indulged myself in some really delicious scrambled eggs, home style potatoes, and toast. I’d been eating nothing but dry corn flakes every morning for a month, so this was absolute heaven. Rachel had some cinnamon french toast concoction that looked more like dessert than breakfast. She couldn’t scarf it down fast enough. The rabbi ordered a fruit platter and blueberry muffin; I thought he was on a diet, but he was served a huge platter of melon and strawberries and a ginormous muffin and he ate it all.
After stuffing my face and belly I felt warm and overfull. I was happy enough that I wasn’t worried about breaking down again, so I brought up what was
on my mind:
“You know,” I said to Rabbi Norm. He and Rachel both sat up straighter. “Last night when Rachel asked me if I’d met my dad, I said no. But right after Mom’s funeral, I thought maybe…”
“You think one of the mourners may have been your father?” Rabbi Norm asked.
“No, it was after that. Remember how after the service you set me up with that lawyer to handle Mom’s unpaid medical bills, insurance policies, bank accounts, and deal with all those certificates and stuff?”
“Of course,” he said. “I followed up with Mr. Kravitz a couple of weeks ago, in fact.”
“Yeah, he’s been great,” I agreed. “But it’s that part about the medical bills. Mom was in the cancer ward for a long time, unable to take care of herself….”
My eyes got hot just thinking about it again. She was so weak, she’d try to talk but was so drugged out she couldn’t do more than hold my hand and cry. I blinked it back and kept going with my story.
“Anyway, she had something like $135,000 in unpaid bills.”
The rabbi slowly nodded. “So what do you think this has to do with your father?”
“The Monday after the funeral, right after I had that appointment with Mr. Kravitz, I was extremely stressed about money. I didn’t have a job, and he said that my mother had only about $800 in a savings account, and our joint checking account had something like $25. He told me that mom had no debt on the condo, so at least I wasn’t going to be homeless, but I was pretty nervous. Well, I got a call from some guy—Mr. Fredric or something—from Chase Bank to come down to the Tustin branch. I asked what was going on, and he said they needed a signature or something—he said that accounts were going to be closed and consolidated. I said okay and walked over. I thought this was something Mr. Kravitz had set up.”
“It wasn’t?” Rabbi Norm asked.
“No,” I said, remembering how surprised I was at the time. “When I got there, Mr. Fredric said an ‘anonymous benefactor’ had set this up, and when he showed me my balance, I saw that there was $5,000 in my checking account. I said this can’t be right, and mentioned the medical bills. He me that he’d run my mother’s credit earlier that day for the benefactor, and those were all paid.”
“Did your dad do that?” Rachel asked. “He sounds pretty cool for a demon, if he did!”
I cracked a thin smile. “I asked for details on this benefactor guy, but Mr. Fredric refused to tell me anything. I was too stressed and confused to keep asking. I was on the edge of breaking down from all the stress and just had to get out of there.”
“Completely understandable,” Rabbi Norm said, his smile almost as warming as the food.
“So I turned around to leave, and there was one guy sitting in the waiting area chairs, just staring at me. He looked…I dunno…he made eye contact with me, and he seemed totally focused on me, but not in a get-in-my-van-little-girl creepy kinda way.”
“Um, gross…” Rachel twisted her face.
I immediately turned to Rabbi Norm. “If I shouldn’t have said—”
“It’s fine,” he assured me. “But let’s move on.”
“Anyway, he was dressed pretty normal, you know, just a button-down white shirt with a brown leather jacket over it. I think black pants. Maybe blue. But dark. I mean, he didn’t seem like a millionaire or anything is what I’m saying. But not like a thug, either.”
“Did he say anything, or make any contact with you?” Rabbi Norm asked.
“No, he just sat there silently looking at me. I was a mess, so I just ran out. But for a few days after that, I wondered if that was maybe my dad. He didn’t look old enough to be my dad—he looked young, maybe in his mid-twenties; but I guess if you were a demon you could look as young as you want, right? Why not look like you’re in your twenties forever?”
“Why not indeed,” Rabbi Norm chuckled. “Have you seen this man since?”
“Nope. And no anonymous benefactor ever did anything else for me that I know of. But boy, having money for bills really saved the day. Who does stuff like that?”
“Thank you for telling us this,” Rabbi Norm said. “Who knows? Perhaps the man you saw at the bank was your father, or some relative or former boyfriend of your mother’s, and was the one who did those things for you. Or perhaps the benefactor was a congregation member who found out about your situation, and the man at the bank may just have happened to have been sitting there, completely unconnected to you, and decided to make eye contact with you out of politeness.”
“Yeah…” I said aloud, more to myself than anyone else. “Besides, how would a demon get money, right?”
“I could imagine,” Rabbi Norm explained, “an eternal being that could move between our world and his own would have more than enough time to amass human currency.”
I nodded slowly. Of course Rabbi Norm was right…but the way he said that…what did he know?
“His world?” I asked. “Do you mean Hell? Or somewhere else?”
“It may sound odd coming from a rabbi, but I wouldn’t get hung up on accepting every word in the Bible as fact. I believe Biblical authors may have been divinely inspired, but ultimately every word is filtered through the creativity and limitations of the human beings that wrote it. Besides, ‘Hell’ as a Christian concept is not universal.”
“So Alex’s dad was a Jewish demon?” Rachel asked.
I couldn’t help but smile a little.
“I’d be surprised,” Rabbi Norm smiled. “No, I’m saying Alex shouldn’t expect the truth of her father’s being or world to conform absolutely to any Biblical or folkloric writings. Anyway, this is a better discussion to be held in private, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. I wasn’t sure if Rabbi Norm caught my uncomfortable expression talking about this in public, or he was the one who didn’t want to say more.
“Alex, I would like to make you an offer,” he began. “I’d like you to move in with us, for at least a short while. You know we have the room.”
Rachel’s whole face lit up, and her eyes became huge. “That would be the coolest thing ever!”
I couldn’t help but grin. I wasn’t quite so enthusiastic about spending that much time with Rachel, but it was nice to feel welcome.
“Why? Is it because you think this guy is a stalker or something?”
“Well,” Rabbi Norm raised his eyebrows. “I do think that it is a terrible idea for an eighteen-year-old girl to live completely alone without even a roommate, I won’t deny that. But it’s more than just concern for your physical safety. I think that you need to change your environment, to be with people for your emotional well being as much as anything else. And I think you need to figure out what you want to do for your future, which is harder when you’re all alone, especially in a place that reminds you constantly of what you’ve lost.”
“But why me, Rabbi?”
“One of the reasons I was drawn to the rabbinate was that I had a knack for sensing people in need, and a drive to help heal. That’s part of what give me purpose,” the rabbi shrugged. “You are an extremely thoughtful and capable young woman, and I want to help you navigate a very rough time. Does that make sense?”
I nodded. “But aren’t you even a little scared to have me around? I mean, if I get mad…”
Rabbi Norm shrugged. “Anyone can be destructive if they get too angry. Anyone can start fires. You just don’t need matches,” he cracked.
“I’m not afraid either,” Rachel declared.
I snorted out a chuckle.
“So how long would I be staying? I mean, I can’t abandon my mom’s condo forever, you know?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said. “I’m leaving it completely open-ended. First you’ll make yourself comfortable, we’ll continue our talks, and when you’re up to thinking about the future, we’ll go from there.”
“I…I don’t know what to say. I don’t feel worthy.”
“Of course you are,” the rabbi leaned forward and
looked at me intently. “You are absolutely worth it.”
“And what you should say is yes!” Rachel grinned.
“Okay, yes,” I exhaled.
Rabbi Norm pulled his wallet out of his pocket and turned over the check. “Then let’s go to your condo so you can pack the things you’d like to bring before we return. Does that sound good?”
“Sure,” I answered.
4
We arrived at my mom’s pretty little grouping of condos off of Bryan Avenue in Tustin in the middle of the afternoon. I didn’t live in a big multiplex or other huge group of attached units. Instead there were three detached one story three-bedroom condos, one behind the other, each sharing the same concrete driveway. There were no patios or gardens between the condos, but other than that it was almost like living in a house.
I unlocked the door and the three of us walked inside. I immediately understood why the rabbi wanted to get me out of here. I used to love this place before Mom died. It was safe and warm and I could be myself. When she was alive, my mom was always waiting for me with a smile and a hug. After Mom died and I locked myself in here, I guess it became more like a prison. I never really realized how much until now, after some happiness and companionship. As soon as I walked in, my mood dropped. It almost felt like I was punched in the gut. My month alone was all around me in the unwashed dishes, the crumpled-up cereal boxes, the papers everywhere. I sighed heavily, like the air itself was thicker in here.
“Are you okay?” Rabbi Norm asked. “Maybe you can just tell Rachel what you need, and she could get it for you?”
“Why Rachel?” I asked.
Rachel could barely contain her grin. “Because Dad doesn’t want to go through your undie drawer!”
I turned to Rabbi Norm with a slight grin of my own.
He smiled back and shrugged. “Busted.”
“No problem,” I said. “I can handle it.”
“Can I help?” Rachel asked.
