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Part 1: I propose a compromise
Northwest London. Saturday, December 8, 2012.
It’s a chilly, overcast Saturday in December, and the clocks are striking a quarter-past 3. Already twilight is imminent as Kleya Marki enters the corner shop down the block from her house. Alone at the holidays for the first time since her adoptive father died, she has decided to “celebrate” Hanukkah at home. She hadn’t been certain whether she wanted to continue the ritual without Luthen or her parents, it felt so hollow, so disconnected. So she left it until the last moment, and now she has a bare hour until it’s time to light the candles, according to the online guide. She’s sure she saw boxes of Hanukkah candles in the corner shop, though; there should be enough time to buy them and get home before nightfall. Aha, there they are, one pack left. She walks over to the display, peripherally aware of a flash of blonde hair above a long leather coat in the corner of her eye. The brightness of it catches her eye briefly, like a flash of light on water.
Kleya reaches to grab the little box, then startles as she feels her hand touch another. The hand is warm, like a patch of sunshine on a cold day, and as Kleya looks up from the box of candles, she notes that the blonde woman’s eyes match her powder-blue top, and are the brightest thing she has seen in weeks.
Without raising her hand from the blue box, the blonde addresses her. She has the temerity to huff a soft, startled laugh. “I feel like I just walked into a John Cusack movie. But, sorry, my friends had a bit of a mishap and are counting on me for the candles. We could …flip a coin for them, I suppose?”
Kleya has no idea what an American actor has to do with anything and is certainly having none of this irritating, oh-so-reasonable attitude. She grits out, “I need the candles for a very important religious family ritual, not just some party taking advantage of the holiday. So if you would kindly move. Your. Hand.”
The blonde is not put off, not even slightly daunted by her manner, but merely tilts her head slightly to the side and replies with a raised eyebrow, “Rituals with friends can be as meaningful as those with family, sometimes. And I have it on good authority that Hanukkah is a relatively minor religious observance.” And while that is technically accurate, this woman is really rubbing Kleya the wrong way.
“As it happens, my family won’t be here this year, but it’s still important to me. Now hand over the candles!” In her irritation, she’s said more than she meant to.
The blonde’s eyes widen a little as Kleya’s voice gets louder, and she visibly chooses a different tack. Her sky-blue eyes soften into concern, and she offers warmly, “In that case, I propose a compromise. Come with me. You can do the traditional blessings with us, even stick around for the dinner party after, if you’d like.”
Kleya tries for another barbed answer, but can’t find it, undone by the woman’s sunshine warmth. Her shoulders slump in resignation and she takes her hand off the box. With a defeated sigh, she admits, “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to light them until half an hour ago. You go ahead.”
The blonde asks her, puzzled, “I don’t understand. Did your plans change? Family left at the last minute or something?”
“No, it’s… just me, I wanted to light them …for old time’s sake, I suppose. You said you’re going to a party, with friends, that’s … that sounds really nice. You should take them. Go on, the sun will be setting soon.”
“Well, that’s true,” the blonde woman says slowly. She’s not gloating in her victory; her giant blue eyes actually look sort of sad, and somehow even kinder. “And thanks, that’s really nice of you. But listen, if you’d be on your own otherwise, I meant it, would you maybe want to come along? Come with me and join the whole first night observance, then stick around. It’s a really wonderful party, they always have it on a Saturday night during Hanukkah. I go every year and it keeps getting better.” Her sadness recedes as she smiles, talking about the party, and it’s like the sun coming out.
“Oh that’s… very kind,” Kleya says, fully intending to refuse. Childish spinning tops and bad chocolate with a group of strangers is hardly an appealing prospect. But to her own surprise she continues, “but I wouldn’t know anyone. And wouldn’t your friends object to a last-minute addition?”
“Well, first, you’d know me. I’m Vel, by the way. I’m not so bad, really. Properly, Velma Sartha, with an “H”, if you want to check I’m not a criminal. But please just call me Vel.”
That startles a laugh out of her. It feels strange. She realizes it’s been weeks, at least, since she laughed. Maybe months. “Kleya Marki”, she replies, now entirely charmed by this ray of sunshine that has somehow wandered into her dark afternoon and overturned her plans. They were pathetic plans. “It’s lovely to meet you, Vel.” It’s the required answer, of course, but she realizes it’s actually true. Vel is lovely - beautiful, warm, friendly. I could use a friend.
Vel goes on, “And second, the invitation said ‘plus-one’, so that's alright. And not only can Bix and Cass really cook, they can get along with anyone. There’s usually about 10 people at their Hanukkah party, so it’s not too overwhelming if that’s a concern. Cass is American and won’t bat an eye if I bring a friend, honestly. Well, fair warning, he said I should bring a friend or a date. But don’t feel compelled to bury yourself in the part,” she says with an over-the-top wink.
Is Vel flirting with her? Why would she even do that? After I spoke that way? Probably it’s a joke to make her feel at ease. And why does an American named “Cass” ring a bell?
Kleya realizes that having left candle purchasing until the last minute was an unusually spontaneous thing for her to do, and somehow liberating, because she’s actually considering going to a stranger’s party. She considers as she looks at the ray of sunshine. At Vel. The slightly older blonde looks like an advert in some high-end outdoor lifestyle magazine in her long leather coat, blue top, and scarf. Her charisma is so pronounced that Kleya is surprised to see that the woman is actually a few centimeters shorter than herself.
Oh, why not? She finally says, “Alright. I… haven’t been interested in dating for a while, but I’d like to come along, as your friend, if you’re sure it’s okay.”
Vel smiles her sunshine smile, apparently genuinely delighted that a grumpy stranger wants to be friends. The woman is bewildering. “Excellent! You get the candles, I’ll get the tequila, and we’ll meet at the door?”
Tequila? Kleya wonders what she’s getting herself into. The noisy, bright children’s Hanukkah parties at her synagogue had never featured drinks, obviously. This is shaping up to be an interesting party already.
Waiting in line, she surreptitiously Googles “Velma Sartha” on her smartphone. The very first search result is a professional-looking website for a local adventure guide and instruction service -- hiking, camping, rock climbing – with Vel’s photo identified as the owner. That’s enough to confirm that Vel is on the level, so she doesn’t scroll any further through the search hits.
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Part 2: Welcome
The walk to the party takes only a few minutes, and Vel gives her a quick run-down on the hosts, likely guests, and warns her that “I always help Cass peel potatoes and such after the candles; it’s not a punishment or anything.”
Vel’s friend Bix welcomes them at the door and takes their coats. She and Vel hug tightly. Close friends, clearly. Bix is tall-ish, with movie-star good looks, and Kleya wonders grumpily whether all of Vel’s friends look like luxury brand adverts. Bix shakes Kleya’s hand with a surprisingly strong and callused one.
Vel performs introductions with both perfect etiquette and genuine warmth. Bix is “Rebecca Caleen” and Kleya recognizes the name of a family-owned mechanic shop in the neighborhood. Vel goes on to explain that they grabbed for the candles at the same time, and she’d invited Kleya along as a “win-win”. Without even lying, Vel manages to make it all sound perfectly friendly, neatly eliding Kleya’s belligerence. Kleya is a little awed by it.
“Oh you got them!” Bix enthuses. “Nice work, you two. Just in time. I was starting to worry we would have to shave down dinner candles or something.”
Vel goes a little pink at the compliment. It’s adorable. I wonder whether I could make her blush, Kleya thinks, then wonders where that thought came from.
“You’re very welcome here, Kleya,” Bix continues. “I’m glad you won’t spend the first night alone. You’re Jewish, then? Can you say the blessings with me? Cass will do the actual lighting while I do the blessings, but I hate to say them alone. Josh and Sarah are coming later, and most everyone else here is a gentile or claims,” here she raises her voice a little and rolls her eyes, “to have forgotten how to read Hebrew.”
“I did forget, Bix!”, comes the muffled, plaintive voice of a young man from somewhere else in the flat.
Kleya blinks a little at the banter, then focuses on the question. “Yes, certainly, I could read the blessings in Hebrew with you if you have a prayer book or something. I’d like that.” Luthen would fry the latkes for her, but it hadn’t been appropriate for “an old Protestant”, as he called himself, to say the blessings with her. She hasn’t said them with anyone else since she was a child.
“Perfect! I keep a printout with our latke recipes. I’ll grab it for you to look over before we get started. Vel, show her to the front room? Cass is setting up in there by the window.”
Vel touches her lightly on the arm to point her in the right direction. The contact brings with it a warmth out of all proportion to the gesture. As Vel guides her around a corner, Kleya asks curiously, “Which of those categories are you in, then?”
“The former. Lapsed Catholic,” Vel smirks slightly, “So at least I haven’t forgotten an entire alphabet.” Then she adds conscientiously, “Wil’s just shy, really. He’s Bix’s baby cousin.”
They bring the candles and tequila to the sitting room as directed. She notes in passing that there’s a tall, serious looking man about Vel’s age standing by one wall, and a young man and woman speaking quietly to one another nearby. But it’s two other things in the room that catch Kleya’s attention: the first is the floor-to-ceiling antique mahogany-framed mirror she’d spent ages restoring and sold a few months ago. The second, standing near the window, is the intense, charming American man she’d sold it to, along with an extended lecture on ethical mahogany sourcing. Andor she recalls. Cassian Andor. Former management consultant, now freelance … something. This must be Cass the American.
Vel gives the man a hug that’s the equal of the one she’d exchanged with Bix. When she pulls back, she says, “Cass, I finally brought a friend like you said. This is Kleya Marki. Kleya, this is our other host, Cassian Andor, Bix’s husband.” Vel’s manners are again etiquette-manual perfect without the slightest sense of awkwardness or irony.
“Hello again,” she tells the man. “We’ve met before.” She gestures at the mirror. “I’m not sure whether you remember me from the antique shop? The piece suits this space beautifully; you chose very well.”
Andor spends a moment dumbfounded, then his beautiful eyes light with humor, “Call me Cass. Of course I remember, that was an unforgettable crash course in the challenges of sustainable forestry. I’m glad to have you here.” He looks briefly, speculatively at Vel, but just continues, “And tequila! Thank you, that’s perfect for later.”
He takes the bottle and box off their hands and sets up 2 candles in the bronze, arboreal-styled menorah on an intriguing old sideboard near the window. Kleya resolves to study both in more detail later. Her own menorah, inherited from her parents, is a more conventionally styled piece.
Bix returns with the printout and Kleya hastily reviews the three blessings to be said on the first night of Hanukkah. She’s pleased to see that there’s a phonetic pronunciation guide and an English translation that have both been updated from the one in her parents’ old prayer book. The URL is an American web address, and she’s intrigued to see that the transliteration uses “u” versus the old “oo”.
“Sing or recite?” Bix asks her.
“Recite, please,” Kleya replies, and Bix gives her an encouraging nod.
It’s past 4 PM and the overcast sky is fully dark now, save for the reflected glow of London’s lights. And then with a last check of his watch, Cass does the candle lighting as Bix and Kleya say the blessings. She notices Vel watching her as she and Bix fall into rhythm together naturally, almost as if they’ve rehearsed. Kleya realizes it’s the power of tradition. And who knows, if Bix’s synagogue is nearby like her family’s was, then they may have even had the same instructor a few years apart. Afterwards, as Bix pats her on the shoulder with thanks, she sees Vel looking at her with a smile.
Cass makes a few remarks to welcome everyone and encourage reflection on perseverance, hope, and religious tolerance. Then he briskly continues, “And now we’ll need volunteers – to help Bix with drinks and table setting, to keep an eye on the candles, and to help prepare food with me and Vel. Setting up the card table for games can wait until after dinner.”
“Aw, Cass, you know I’m too old for dreidels,” says the young man whose voice she heard earlier. To her somewhat petulant relief, he’s a normal looking 20-ish fellow, and not another movie star. This would be “Wil”, presumably. Kleya privately agrees with his sentiment.
“We all are. They’re just decor. We’re using the Hanukkah gelt as poker chips instead,” Cass replies with a wink.
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Part 3 What a Festive Evening
Kleya joins Vel and Cass in the kitchen, where Cass outfits them with aprons. Vel and Kleya companionably peel potatoes and sweet potatoes side by side, chatting idly. They discuss Vel’s business and Kleya’s. Seasonality is different for them, with Kleya currently riding the Christmas season rush. There’s not much call for outdoor adventure instruction in December, but Vel expects her rock climbing gym’s memberships to ramp up as people make New Year’s resolutions, and new members will need instruction.
Resolutely not thinking about Vel wearing a harness, or tying knots, she follows the subject of rocks to the Curiosity Rover’s investigations on Mars, and from Mars the subject turns to sci-fi movies. Vel liked Avengers Assembled, but says it would have been better with more Cobie Smulders. Kleya hasn’t seen it, and isn’t clear on who Cobie Smulders might be.
Reminded, Kleya asks her what the John Cusack movie comment had been about. Vel tells her there was a movie where two Christmas shoppers reached for the last pair of gloves simultaneously.
She considers this. “What sort of movie was it?”
Vel goes slightly, enchantingly pink as she replies, “Er, it was a rom-com a few years back.”
Why would she look embarrassed about that? Unless … Kleya decides to try some cautious flirtation of her own. “I suppose I can’t say it’s implausible. But you know, if I’d really wanted the candles, I could have had them.”
Her claim startles Vel into a laugh. “Oh, really? Magical sleight of hand?”
“No, a tactical diversion with the Christmas crackers. But I decided it was useful to let you practice diplomacy.”
Vel laughs again. “Cousin Mon will be thrilled that her example took, I’m sure.”
Speaking with Vel is pleasant, even if she carries an undercurrent of sadness that Kleya can’t quite put her finger on. The topics are appropriately non-controversial for a first chat, if a little bland. Well, second chat, she thinks a little guiltily. Kleya finds peeling a pleasantly meditative task, and wonders whether Luthen had also found it so, all those years. She wonders what latkes made from sweet potatoes will taste like.
Cassian is a whirl of activity as he sets heavy pans of oil to heat, starts a ventilation fan, fiddles with thermometers, and sets up a food processor. Kleya watches with interest as Cass uses the food processor to grate the potatoes, then wrings out as much liquid as possible from them with a cloth before mixing with the rest of the ingredients. Luthen had always grated the potatoes by hand, but then it was only for the two of them.
The blonde girl she’d noticed earlier comes by with a tray of finger food for them and introduces herself as Adriana (“call me Dreena”), Wil’s girlfriend from Switzerland. “Wil didn’t say Vel had a girlfriend, too. How long have you been dating?”
“We met earlier today, and Kleya is here as my friend,” Vel explains to the girl with a sunny smile that defuses any possible awkwardness.
“Oh, sorry! Happy to meet you both. Bix sent me to get everyone’s drink order. She said to tell everyone that there’s tea available too, since it’s still so early.”
Kleya feels like she’s fallen into Neverland when Dreena then produces an actual drinks menu that Bix had apparently made up ahead of time:
HANUKKAH COCKTAILS
Silver and Blue Tequila, Curaçao, Lime juice
The Sufganiyah Rum, Raspberry liqueur, Raspberries, Cranberry juice
Hanukkah Gelt Vodka, Creme de cacao, Cointreau
Well, blue is definitely her color, so it’s hardly even a question. Vel opts for the chocolate and orange vodka drink. Dreena wanders off again, eventually returning with drinks for them. The “Silver and Blue” is smooth, potent with alcohol and just the right amount of sweetness and acidity.
The serious man who joins them in the kitchen is named Melshi (“call me ‘Rue’”), and used to work with Cass at his old corporate job. Rue joins Cass at the stove, and in parallel they start frying carefully timed batches of potato-onion and sweet potato-chive latkes. Twin mountains of the pancakes begin to form on platters to be kept warm in the oven.
Once all the potatoes are peeled and incorporated into bowls of batter, Cass sets Kleya and Vel onto salad prep. She’s glad for the apron as extracting seeds from pomegranates is a messy process. Beside her Vel shaves a fennel bulb and precision-dissects oranges. Kleya has to tear her eyes away from the sight of Vel’s hands, which look every bit as strong and competent as one would imagine from a rock climber.
It’s during this process that Josh and Sarah arrive with trays of brisket that go in the oven to warm up. Vel gets up to hug them both, then introduces them to her as friends of Cass and Bix from their synagogue. They greet Kleya in the same friendly, welcoming way that everyone else has. Josh looks inquiringly between the two of them and asks Vel, “Cass never mentioned you were bringing a girlfriend, how long has this been going on?” He seems genuinely happy for them.
Amused, Vel tells him the same thing she’d told Dreena. “We met earlier today, and Kleya is here as my friend.”
“Oh, right, sorry! Lovely to meet you, Kleya!” And then Sarah is dragging Josh off to the drinks. Cass has been wholly focused on the deep pans of hot oil, but at this exchange Kleya notices him glancing at her and Vel with a quick smile.
Kleya looks over at Vel with quirked lips of her own. “How many more times do you think you’ll have to say that?”
Vel looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry about that. They mean well, really they do.” She takes a deep breath and then says seriously, “I should probably explain. My girlfriend Cinta, she … she died a couple of years back. Car crash. Drunk driver. He survived.” And for a moment her gaze goes very bleak and far away.
“Vel, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry for your loss.” No wonder Vel seemed sad, despite her clear enjoyment of the party. This conversation got less bland very quickly, she thinks. She wonders whether she ought to reciprocate, telling her about Luthen.
But then Vel takes a breath and continues, “Thank you. I didn’t handle it well for a while there. Bix and Cass helped my cousin look after me. But that was a while ago now. It’s nothing you need to worry about. Anyway, they just want me to be happy, you know? But I’m sorry about all the assumptions. I can pass the word you’re straight.” Vel’s gaze is oddly intent here.
And that confirms Vel was really flirting with her earlier, not just social flirting, or joking. Oh. Oh my. She looks Vel directly in the eye as she replies, “No, it’s fine. You can just say what you’ve been saying, if anyone else asks.”
Wil enters the kitchen next, waits for a lull to get Cass’s attention. “The candles have finished and the table is set. Bix said I should ask if it’s time to bring out the condiments now.”
Cass looks at the bowls of batter and appears to make a quick calculation. “Might as well. Sour cream and applesauce are in the door of the fridge. Put them in those bowls. Spoons should already be out.”
Kleya watches all of this in fascination. The Andor-Caleen Hanukkah party really is a well-oiled machine, with Cassian the beating heart at its center. Or perhaps it’s a symphony, with Cassian the conductor. She appreciates that there is a clear plan with attention to detail without losing any warmth or camaraderie. She can already see why Vel loves to be a part of it, her obvious closeness with Bix, Cass, and the others. She recognizes most of the traditions, at least in general terms, but some are new. American, perhaps?
Josh returns with a serving dish. He gets Cass and Melshi’s attention, then they get out of his way so he can take the brisket from the oven and carefully transfer it to the dish. It smells incredible.
Shortly thereafter, Cass shuts down the stove, gives Vel one of the giant latke platters, and carries the other himself. Kleya follows them to the dining room with the bowl of salad. He declares dinner is ready and ushers everyone to the beautifully set table.
The meal is delicious, everyone becoming very happy and pink. Conversation is wide ranging, but only after several minutes of serious discussion of the food.
Kleya compliments Josh and Sarah on the brisket.
Sarah thanks her. “It’s Cass’s mother’s recipe, actually.” Then she turns to Vel with a cheeky little grin, “Say Vel, would you say this brisket is good enough for the aristocracy?”
Aristocracy? What an odd question, Kleya thinks.
“Far too good for most of them,” Vel replies, not missing a beat. “I like the new salad recipe this year, Cass. Where’d you get it?
Kleya turns her attention to the sweet potato latkes, which are too sweet with the applesauce, but balance much better with the sour cream. She likes them, she decides. Similar to the sweet potato fries she’d had in restaurants.
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Part 4: Belonging
They all cooperate good-naturedly to clear the dishes. Then it’s time for more drinks, and out come ridiculous novelty hats for the poker game. Bix plugs an MP3 player into a sound system and starts up a Hanukkah playlist. Kleya is astonished to recognize only half the tunes. She thinks some of them are actually in Ladino.
Kleya wins several hands of poker while gloriously attired in a tall navy blue hat that looks like a menorah. Possibly the tequila has warped her aesthetic judgment somewhat but her grasp of statistics is unimpaired.
Then she retires from the game, swapping out with Bix, who’d been chatting with Vel. She deposits her pile of chocolate coins in front of them on the coffee table. Vel, with a quick look to ask permission, proceeds to peel the foil from Kleya’s winnings. “The coins aren’t very good chocolate usually,” Kleya warns her.
“I know, but it’s tradition. Also chocolate,” Vel replies with a helpless shrug.
The music changes from festive Hanukkah tunes (and really, how had Cass and Bix found that many Hanukkah recordings?) to a recent pop song she’d heard somewhere before. Kleya looks over to see Wil and Dreena conspiring near the sound system with their own MP3 players. The catchy chorus of “Call me, maybe” is a good reminder, and she exchanges phone numbers with Vel and Cass, who are nearby, resolving to get others later.
Wil and Dreena shift the music to something slower, mellower.
Cass is seated in a comfortable-looking armchair with his feet up and a drink near to hand, watching benignly as everyone enjoys themselves. She and Vel sit nearby on a little loveseat. Kleya is aware of every place their bodies touch, of Vel’s radiant sunshine warmth. Vel, for her part, looks relaxed and comfortable, among friends. The sad aura Kleya had noticed around her earlier has receded almost entirely.
“How did you meet Bix and Cass?” She asks Vel. “It seems like you’ve known each other a long time.”
Vel and Cass exchange a look and a laugh in what is clearly well-trodden ground for them. Vel performs a seated bow with a dramatic flourish and a gesture that Cass should answer.
He adopts a very serious expression. “Vel used to date Bix. We fought a sword duel for her, and Vel lost. She still has a scar from the wound, but her broken heart will never heal.” Then he cracks up and Vel lapses into giggles. Kleya feels ice around her own heart thaw, just a little bit.
Bix glances over from the card table where she’s playing with Sarah, Josh, and Melshi, and shoots them all a fond smile, then blows Cassian a kiss.
Vel is sputtering with comedically-exaggerated indignation, “You never! It was only ever two dates, it was more than 10 years ago, and we decided we were better off as friends, that’s all. ‘Fought a duel’, honestly! Don’t listen to him, Kleya. He didn’t even move here until years later. Last time, he said he won Bix in a poetry slam.”
Vel is still smiling and pink with laughter, the joke worn, old and comfortable.
Kleya finds herself smiling at their antics, the comfort and goodwill between them. And Vel’s blush is so cute.
That’s when Cassian sets down his drink and continues with a smirk, “And how did you two meet? You never mentioned you were dating anyone, Vel.”
Vel throws a cushion at him. “We met earlier today at the shop, and Kleya is here as my friend,” Vel recites firmly. “Which you must have heard me say earlier at least twice, no matter how deep your … your potato-trance was.”
“Actually…” Kleya blames the tequila, the warmth melting her defenses, and Vel’s adorable blush for what she says next, “I’d like to revisit that question.”
Vel gapes at her while Cassian looks on, delighted.
Kleya continues, “If you’re agreeable, could we retroactively redefine this evening as a date?”
“I … what … retro- … yes? Really?”
“Yes, really,” Kleya confirms, and pats Vel’s knee primly. “Your friends made a very good impression. And you’re not so bad either,” she concludes with a wink, quoting Vel’s earlier words back at her. Cass is laughing uproariously now. Vel herself looks a bit stunned.
She shakes her head to clear it and gives Kleya a speculative look. Then, giving her plenty of time to object, Vel puts an arm along the back of the loveseat, around Kleya’s shoulders. Kleya freezes momentarily then relaxes into the warm near-embrace, lets herself feel held, feel safe. She knows it’s an illusion, that “safe” is not a thing on offer in this world, but she savors it fiercely, and feels the wall of ice around her heart melt even further. Vel continues to look at her, far longer and more intently than she had done so far. Looks at her like she’s a revelation.
With a wrench, Kleya pulls herself away from Vel’s bright eyes to properly express her appreciation to their host. “It really is a wonderful party, Cass, the best Hanukkah party I’ve ever been to,” she tells him seriously. “And Hanukkah’s the only Jewish holiday I celebrate, really. Sounds like you and Bix are more observant, though?”
Cass replies seriously, “Mmmhmm. I wasn’t always, though. I’ve never been a big believer, though I’d attend the High Holy Day services with my mother, and later with Bix and her family, along with weddings and so forth.”
“What changed, can I ask?”
Cass nods. “A few years ago, my mother died, back in Texas, and I couldn’t be there to say goodbye. I barely made it to the funeral in time. And I felt completely lost, not just sad, but like I didn’t know how to act, how to be in the world, without her in it. She was always very active in her congregation there, though, the various community and service groups. And so I tried to honor her by saying Kaddish every day. 11 months, that’s the prescribed ritual for losing a parent. It’s a little unusual to do the full shloshim in a Reform congregation, but we made it work. And by the end of it I knew I belonged.”
Belonging. The word is seductive. Cass’s answer was generous, open, a lot to take in, and she knows she should respond with some candor of her own. “That’s … that’s remarkable. Thank you for telling me all that. I’m really glad it helped. I’ve lost people, and it would never have occurred to me to do that.” Vel holds her a little tighter, and she feels an infusion of warmth and comfort. Looking over, she notices that Vel is again looking at her intently, studying her, almost.
Kleya remembers her own violent rejection of religion after her parents’ deaths, and tries to think how to phrase her next question for Cass with some tact. “Did the experience make you … more of a believer in God?”
He shakes his head, not offended. “It may sound odd, but no. It’s more about being connected to tradition and a community. Belief … it’s not actually required,” he adds with a little huff of laughter. The answer briefly dumbfounds her; it’s a direction she has simply never considered.
“Out of curiosity, which synagogue do you attend now?” she asks. He tells her and she realizes it’s the same Reform one where she attended Hebrew lessons and Hanukkah parties as a child. She remembers the rabbi and congregants reaching out kindly after her parents’ death, and her own determined rejection.
Warmed by Vel’s supportive arm wrapped around her, the memory of Vel’s own earlier vulnerability, and now Cass’s openness about his loss, a little more of the ice around her heart melts, emerging as a trickle of memories. She tells them how after her parents died, their best friend adopted her. How she refused to have anything more to do with religion or God after that.
Then she smiles, telling them about Luthen’s dramatic monologue, which she can still quote from memory all these years later: “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you completely discard a continuous connection to nearly 4000 years of history, not on my watch! I won’t make you go to Bat Mitzvah classes or Shabbat services if you hate them so much, but there must be at least one holiday you like. Pick one, because we’re going to observe it together.”
“I was a child, so I chose the one with candles and presents. And that’s why my only connection to Judaism has been celebrating a minor holiday. With Luthen gone now, too, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do that anymore. But I’m glad I came with you tonight,” she concludes. Vel’s eyes shine at her the whole time, like twin suns.
“You’ve lost a lot for someone so young,” Vel murmurs.
Cassian nods his agreement. “Do you remember the dates of their deaths? If you’d like, we can have their names read at their yahrzeits, you know, their death anniversaries? No pressure, obviously, but think about it. A lot of people find it very meaningful,” Cassian tells her.
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Part 5: Feels like waking up
It’s the best time Kleya has had in as long as she can remember. But the party eventually dwindles as the guests leave in ones or twos. Wil and Dreena get loaded down with leftovers to get them through a couple of days in student halls. And eventually she and Vel depart as well.
“Do you live nearby? Let me walk you home?”
Vel actually offers her arm. She does so without the least apparent awkwardness or self-consciousness, and Kleya takes it happily. Vel is an excellent date. Where did she get those manners, Kleya wonders again. The tequila is beginning to wear off, but she feels light and warm and happy for the first time in months, maybe years. In the chilly night air, she permits herself to snuggle into Vel’s side slightly as they start walking.
“So,” Vel begins, “retroactive reclassification, eh?”
Kleya darts a glance at her; she’s smiling. “I hope you didn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Vel assures her warmly. “I was pleasantly surprised. Can I ask what changed your mind?”
She tries to think how to say it. “I told you I hadn’t dated for a while, right?”
Vel nods, looks at her curiously.
“I used to, sometimes, before Luthen got so sick. On websites, you know? But I never really clicked with anyone. And these last couple of years, it’s as if that part of me has been asleep.” And then it’s all pouring out of her, like Vel’s warmth has finally melted the last of that dam of ice around her heart, and there’s nothing to hold back the flood. “But I had such a good time with you tonight, Vel. You’re so lovely, you and your friends are so kind, and it was really flattering that everyone thought you’d … want to be with me. And it was like I … woke up.”
“‘Woke up.’” Vel repeats the phrase reflectively. “That’s a good way to put it. Meeting you, spending time with you tonight, it made me feel like I’m ready to wake up, too. You're smart, you're beautiful... funny too, and honestly …I think my friends liked you almost more than they like me. I’d really like to see you again, Kleya, see where this goes. Would you like to find out, too?”
Kleya can hardly breathe, makes herself reply seriously, “Yes, very much. I hardly know anything about you yet. And I want to. Can we have a second date with just us?”
Vel smiles her sunshine smile. “Just us.” Her smile turns a little more sheepish. “Would meeting up for coffee tomorrow morning be too soon?” It’s hard to tell in the streetlights, but she thinks Vel is blushing again, just a little.
“No, that’s fine, it’s not too soon.” They agree on a time and spot nearby.
Shortly thereafter, she stops and says, “This is my house.”
“Then I’ll leave once you’re safely inside.” Vel presses a soft kiss to Kleya’s cheek, and the chilly night is suddenly, perfectly, wonderfully warm.
She realizes that she still has Vel’s arm, that Vel can't leave until she lets go. Instead she swivels to touch Vel’s face gently. It’s a little cool from the weather, but so soft. Vel’s eyes flutter briefly, before locking onto hers. She puts her other hand lightly on Kleya’s waist, and Kleya’s every nerve comes alive. Vel tilts her head up and Kleya tilts her own down ever so slightly to bring her lips to Vel’s. It starts simply, tentatively, almost chaste. But Vel’s sunshine warmth spreads from Kleya’s lips all the way down to her toes, she tastes like a chocolate orange, and Kleya wants to devour her.
She pulls back with gasp. Vel’s eyes are huge and Kleya suspects her own are the same.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”