“Speaking of food, how about a goat cheese pizza?”
“Sounds delicious,” I said.
“Can you drink wine, Sheldon?” Shmuley asked. “I know you’re not eating pizza.”
“Well I can drink some, as long as it’s red, preferably sweet. I love Manichevitz.”
“Ugh, I like the kosher dry varietals from California, but I’ll order a bottle of cough syrup for you.” Shmuley called over the waitress and ordered a medium goat cheese pizza, cabernet for him and Concord Grape for Sheldon. I guess he figured I’d drink Manichevitz too. Actually I loved it, though I’d never admit it to my more sophisticated friends.
“So tell me about you two. What’s the problem? I assume it’s not boredom with your sex life?” He leered at Sheldon.
“The problem is my minyan and my golem.” Sheldon got right to the point. “I can’t leave Crown Heights and my minyan because there aren’t any male vampires to replace me—I suppose they could do without my rabbinical services but not without a minyan. And Goldie, my golem, hates Rhoda because she’s not Orthodox and not a vampire. She refuses to obey me anymore. She’s out of control and I’m afraid she’ll go on a rampage. You know those stories about golems. I can’t get close enough to her to de-animate her.”
“Goldie thinks she’s his mother,” I added, “And she acts like a typical Jewish mother—except worse.”
“That’s right,” Sheldon said. “She’s an expert guilt-pusher. And now she’s started threatening me. She says she’ll out me to the vampire hunters if I don’t drop Rhoda.”
“Plus we want to get married, but Sheldon doesn’t want to make me into a vampire and I don’t want to become one until I lose fifty pounds. You know what I mean?”
“I don’t know why all Jewish women want to be skinny. We like a little zaftig,”
Shmuley said.
“Not this much zaftig.” I said, pointing to my hips.
“Well maybe a little less zaftig,” he agreed.
“I like her just the way she is, human and zaftig,” Sheldon said, a little too loudly for my comfort. “In my day the most sexy women had a lot of meat on their bones, today they look like sticks.”
“I have to think about these problems.” He nodded sagely. “They’re not what I’m used to counseling couples about. I mostly get the ‘she or he doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore’ issues. Let’s wait until we eat. I think better on a full stomach.”
Luckily the pizza arrived at that moment, and we dug in. I thought better on a full stomach myself. Sheldon sipped at the Manichevitz, licking his lips happily. I know he loved the sweetness of it. Blood is salty.
Reb Shmuley ate most of the pizza and asked for another glass of wine before telling us he’d solved our problem.
“The minyan problem is the easiest to solve. Why does the tenth man have to be a vampire? Is there any reason?”
“Actually no,” Sheldon said. “I just assumed …”
“I can get you a tenth man easily. I know every Hasid in Crown Heights. There are many Lubuvatchers who would be happy to pray with you at my request.”
Sheldon’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it would be that easy. I assumed we were outcasts in the Hasidic community.”
“Times have changed,” Shmuley reassured him. “We Lubuvatchers need all the Jews we can get, alive or dead. We want to bring Jews back into the fold, and that includes your minyan. If we send you a tenth man, you’re one of us.”
“You’re sure about that? Won’t he be frightened?”
“Hey, we Lubuvatchers have seen Twilight. I assume you don’t sparkle.”
“So, is that it? You all sorted out?” He turned away from us and waved to a friend who just walked in. “Hellooooo Dolly. Did you get on The Today Show? That’s Dolly Bernstein, the famous matchmaker. All the singles are going to old-fashioned Jewish matchmakers these days even if they’re not Orthodox. We work together sometimes. She makes the matches, I do the counseling.”
“How about the human/vampire thing?” I asked him, trying to fit in a couple more questions before Regis walked in.
“I don’t know anything about that,” Shmuley said dismissively. “Not my department. You don’t have to make a decision right away, do you? How long have you two been together?”
“Just a few months,” I said.
“Give it a year and come back to me. Young people today are so impulsive.”
“We’re not young,” Sheldon said. “I’m a hundred years old and Rhoda’s forty-one.”
“What’s the rush. You’re immortal and she’s peri-menopausal. Do you want to have children?”
“We haven’t discussed it,” I said hastily. “I doubt it’s possible.”
“Where there’s a will, etc.” Shmuley nodded sagely. “I don’t know about vampires but in vitro worked for a few of my clients.”
Shmuley decided we were finished when yet another admirer shrieked, “Shmuley, Shmuley, you must come over here and meet my cousin who works for the Times, he’s a fan of yours.” He got up, grabbed his coat and was about to leave when Sheldon grabbed his arm. “Wait, wait. What do I do about Goldie? How do I de-animate her?”
“Rhoda has to do it.”
“What?” I squealed. “That’s impossible!”
He turned to Sheldon. “Only a human woman can de-animate a female golem who is out of control. Didn’t you know that? She was only obeying you because she felt like it.”
“How would I know that? My father made her, not me.” Sheldon sounded as panicked as I felt.
“When a man makes a golem to be his servant he’s asking for trouble, golems are very possessive,” Shmuley said. “There is no free lunch.”
“What do I do?” I was hysterical. “She’s huge, she might hurt me.”
“Not if you know what to say. Check my website. Click on the ‘golem’ link. I’ve got a surefire golem de-animation script.”
He handed Sheldon the check, shook his hand and said, “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The de-animation script on Shmuley’s website was daunting. It confirmed that the person doing the de-animating had to be the same sex as the golem; it listed the Hebrew letters you had to recite, none of which I could understand, although I had to memorize them; it revealed the secret name of God that had to be used as well. Worst, it said the de-animation had to be done at daybreak when the golem was at her weakest for some reason. That meant Sheldon couldn’t be there. I was on my own. Except for Charlene who had volunteered to back me up and recite the words with me. Bless her goyishe heart, she’d even agreed to learn a little Hebrew for a friend. As it turned out more than a little Hebrew was involved. Luckily Sheldon could coach us, even if he couldn’t be there to help.
At least he felt bad about it. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there, Rhoda, but Goldie could go nuts and decide to attack me while I sleep if she gets angry enough. I’ve seen her when she’s really mad. She could hold me hostage.”
“How reassuring. I’ve just confronted killer drug dealers and now I have to go mano a mano with a killer golem.” I strolled over to the window and looked down at Second Avenue nostalgically, realizing that I might not see it again. I might not see Sheldon again for that matter.
“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” Sheldon said, smiling. “But don’t worry. I’m used to it. I have total faith in you. Goldie is no match for my Rhoda.” He must have been in denial because she was twice my size.
The process was ridiculously complicated, involving the “combination technique.” I couldn’t just erase the first letter from Goldie’s forehead because she undoubtedly wouldn’t let me near her. My journalism background came in handy because I was used to interviewing experts in various esoteric disciplines and explaining their theories in plain language.
It seems that each limb of the golem has a corresponding letter mentioned in the Sefer Yetzirah, a book of Kabbalah, and to create a golem this letter has to b
e combined with every other letter of the Hebrew alphabet to form pairs. Then a more general permutation is done (again for each limb separately) for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet with every other letter into letter pairs. This second, basic method of combination is called the “221 gates.” Then each letter of the alphabet has to be combined with each vowel sound (apparently for each limb). That concludes the first stage, the formation of the golem's body. In the second stage you must combine each letter of the alphabet with each letter from the Tetragrammaton (YHVH), and pronounce each of the resulting letter pairs with every possible vowel sound. In this case the use of the Tetragrammaton, even though it is permutated, is the “activation word.”
As if the above wasn’t nonsensical enough, to destroy a golem you have to recite it all backwards, while circling the golem in a counterclockwise direction. The golem web pages noted that when done right, the process should be combined with meditative, paced breathing and pronunciation techniques. Some of these methods would have taken the Kabbalist thirty-six hours or more of uninterrupted meditation to complete!
I didn’t understand a word, but Sheldon, in his rabbinical wisdom, boiled it down to a formula I could memorize. He wrote a transliteration of the Hebrew for me and Charlene. I would recite the words while circling Goldie, while Charlene read from the written version and coached me when I stumbled. Charlene, who had studied Latin as part of her Catholic education was also good at memorizing esoteric languages.
This all took about a week, during which time Sheldon stayed at my apartment. After studying we got to make love for the rest of the night. It was heavenly. I definitely knew I could live with this man forever--that I wanted to live with him forever. I got so involved in my Hebrew studies that I almost forgot what I was studying for, but when I finally got it all down pat Sheldon reminded me that I actually had to confront Goldie.
At 5 a.m. on a cold February morning, Charlene and took a cab to Crown Heights. The sun was rising as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, which I would have found beautiful if I wasn’t so scared. When the cabbie dropped us off in front of Sheldon’s building, Charlene and I silently opened the outside door with the key we’d gotten from Sheldon, trudged into the vestibule, and up the three flights of stairs. When we got to his door I whispered to her, “Do you have the script ready? I hope I can remember my Hebrew alphabet…backwards. Actually I wouldn’t know the difference either way.”
“Let’s get it over with, Rhoda. Open the goddamned door.” Charlene was nervous as well. Goldie wasn’t likely to spare her either if she went on a rampage before I could deactivate her.
When the door opened we both saw Goldie lying on the couch and snoring loudly. Who knew golems snored? One meaty arm was over her face and the other dropped to the floor. Her dress was hiked up, showing her huge thighs which looked like tree trunks, except smooth and gray. Her ratty underwear looked like it was left over from the Victorian era. She didn’t look scary until she opened one eye and stared at us, her mouth curling down in an angry frown. She hopped up faster than I thought possible for a creature of her bulk, and glared at us.
“Is that Rhoda? Why are you here? Where’s Sheldon? Who’s this shiksa?” Did she have some kind of shiksa radar? How could she have known Charlene was a shiksa?
“Goldie, I’m really sorry but I’m here to deactivate you. You wouldn’t let Sheldon do it so I have to. I promise Sheldon will reactivate you in a while, after we get married.” I had no idea why I was telling her the truth, but I couldn’t think of a story that would be the least bit convincing. We were so busy during the last week memorizing Hebrew that I forgot to come up with a cover story.
“Are you some kind of meshuganah? Goldie asked, looking bewildered. “Do you think I’d let a little pisher like you deactivate me. I’m twice your size. I could smash you against this wall until your brains leaked from your skull.”
Goldie lurched towards me with her arms out, looking like the bride of Frankenstein. I wanted to start the deactivation process but there was no way I could walk around her while she was moving.
“Charlene, get behind her and try to slow her down.”
Charlene obediently got behind Goldie but then stood there, looking bewildered. She obviously had no idea what to do.
“Grab her under the arms,” I suggested.
“This thing is three times my size, Rhoda. She’ll kill me.”
Goldie lumbered around towards Charlene and growled, “You bet I will, shiksa whore.”
At that point I grabbed Goldie’s arms from the back and tried to subdue her. I don’t know what I could have been thinking. She wheeled around again, picked me up with those huge arms if I were a squirming puppy, and carried me towards the window.
“I’m going to drop you out this window and squish you like a bug,”
Frantic, I started yelling for help. If I made enough noise, someone was bound to hear me.
“Shhh,” she whispered to me. You don’t want to wake the vampires.”
“Yes I do!” I yelled. “Maybe one of them will help me.”
“Why would they?” It was Goldie’s turn to look bewildered. “You’re not even Jewish.”
“Yes I am,” I insisted. “Look, I’m wearing a wig.”
Goldie was strong, but she was also slow. Golems weren’t known for agility. As she took one hand off me and grabbed my hair, trying to rip it off, I took the opportunity to elbow her in her iron gut, which knocked her off balance just enough so that I could get away from her. I scampered off and cowered in the corner, rubbing my head which was now missing a clump of hair, but at least I was temporarily out of her clutches.
“Bravo, Rhoda,” Charlene cheered.
“Now I’m going to strangle you,” she said, coming at me. “No one will hear you if you’re choking.”
“If you did that Sheldon would never forgive you”
She looked at me, stunned. That had obviously never occurred to her.
“He doesn’t care about you, you’re, you’re …” She was at a loss for words. “You’re just a koorvah,” she flung the word at me as if I would crumple when I heard it.
“What’s a koorvah? I never heard that expression.”
Goldie had obviously lived with a rabbi long enough to know that answering a question superseded all other business.
“Whore, prostitute, bad woman,” she said calmly as if she were instructing a class.
“Sheldon and I are getting married, Goldie, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Give up now and we’ll reanimate you—sometime in the future.”
At that Goldie came to an abrupt halt, put her head in her hands, and started wailing loudly. The sound was chilling. It didn’t sound human, but like an enormous wind-up toy winding down.
“He can’t marry you, I won’t allow it.” she wailed. “Sheldon is my baby. My little boytshick. You can’t have him, you nafka.” She started lurching again in my direction almost drunkenly
“I have no idea what a nafka is either, but I’m not one.”
“You’re a piece of schmutz, that’s what you are,” Goldie shouted.
“Rhoda, you have to get started,” I heard Charlene say behind me. “She’s not going gently into that good night.”
I quickly started walking towards the bedroom to confuse her, since it happened to be in a counterclockwise direction, and chanted what I’d memorized in a low voice. I figured chanting was more authentic because that’s how Hebrew prayers were recited.
“Nooooo,” Goldie yowled, putting her hands over her ears, and turning her head away from me. “Not the Tetragrammaton, anything but the Tetragrammaton, that will kill me forever. You’ll turn me into dust. Stoppp, please stoppp.” She growled in a low voice, sounding like she was in excruciating pain.
I felt sorry for her but I didn’t stop, I knew I had to keep going or all would be lost. Goldie reeled around the room holding her head and screaming. Then her hand went to her forehead and she scraped wildly at the letters, removing the Ale
ph. As soon as it was gone, she keeled over like a felled oak.
“Geez, Charlene. She committed suicide. I guess that was better than being turned to dust. Should we just leave her there?”
Charlene gazed down at her. “They say golems have no soul, but her devotion to Sheldon seemed pretty soulful. Yes, let’s leave her there. She must weigh 300 pounds and I’m not about to throw my back out getting her up.”
Chapter Forty-Three
I was shivering in the chilly fall night air, sitting on a tiny plastic folding chair that didn’t support my entire rear end, under a huge tent at the Woodstock Jewish Congregation’s High Holy Days Services. Sheldon was sitting next to me, not shivering, a beatific expression on his face. I realized he hadn’t worshipped in a synagogue since the nineteenth century. I glanced around and noticed that everyone was wearing white, which is what you’re supposed to wear on Yom Kippur, while I was wearing a peasant dress with a loud pattern. Why the hell couldn’t I have worn something white, or at least beige? I mentally surveyed my closet and noticed some white garments I overlooked, upset about my sartorial faux pas. Sheldon was dressed in full Hasidic garb, with a long beard that he let grow for the holidays. He didn’t exactly fit in among these hippie types, many of whom were wearing white jeans, but I noticed he was getting a lot of admiring stares. He looked remarkably handsome and imposing.
Over a thousand people were singing, swaying and praying, raising a storm of atonement although not much body heat. Rabbi Jonathan, a youthful folk singing incarnation of a charismatic rabbi along the lines of the Bal Shem Tov, led us in singing rounds, one section of the tent at a time. It was like a Jewish tent revival. We sang “Avinu Malkenu,” and I started weeping. I decided I was crying for happiness because Sheldon and I were finally praying together, at a shul that couldn’t care less about our inter-life relationship or religious choices. We got up and started singing with our arms around the people in our row. I had no idea who they were but felt grateful to them for accepting us.
Interview With a Jewish Vampire Page 25