The Oy of Sex

by Marcie Scheiner

  So my childhood ain’t nothing to talk about, an ordinary girl I was, I went to school, I came home, I helped my mother with the housework, sure, five children she had, four boys and me, so who else is gonna help her? I had friends, too, boys and girls, no one special, there was like a group of us that stuck together, to the movies we went, and to get a nosh at the diner, dancing once in a while, you know we did all the things that young people do.

  And then, when I was sixteen, a new girl moved into the neighborhood, and that girl, I had such a feeling for, I just couldn’t take my eyes from her. You know the expression “love at first sight,” sure, who doesn’t, well of course that’s what it was, but what did I know, we was two girls, girls don’t fall in love with girls, who ever heard of such a thing? I just knew I wanted to be her friend, help her out, you know, show her around, it could be overwhelming, such a place, to a person who first walks in and don’t know from it, nu, it takes a while to get used to, it was a very big school.

  Look, here’s a picture of her, my Evie, you see, here we are both in the last row, that’s our class picture from eleventh grade, we was both tall girls, now I’m all stooped over like an old turtle, but back then my back was straight as a Shabbos candle, from my posture my mother was always proud. Ain’t she gorgeous, my Evie? Look at that dark, curly hair, black as midnight it was, Medusa I used to call her, nu, it was that hair that started the whole thing. Dark, curly hair and blue eyes, very unusual for a Jew, but I swear her eyes were as blue as mine are brown, you can see, under the cataracts my eyes are dark like coffee you drink when there’s no milk in the house. And could she fill out a gymsuit, my Evie! Listen, years ago, no girl wanted to be skinny, like sticks all you girls are now, what do they call them the supermodels there, feh, one puff of wind could knock them right down. We used to laugh at girls like that, girls with no hips, no tuchus, we used to feel sorry for them, the poor things.

  So where was I? Oh, Evie, of course, Evie. The first day I saw her, she was in the lunchroom sitting all by her-self, takeh, and I was ashamed, a whole school, maybe five hundred boys and girls, maybe a thousand, and not one person held out a hand, nobody said, “You must be lonely, here, I’ll sit with you, I’ll talk to you, I’ll show you where to take your tray.” And blind they all was, they couldn’t see this was no ordinary girl, this girl was something special, a gift from God she was, and nobody could see what was sitting there right before their very eyes?

  So I got my sandwich, egg salad I got, and a carton of milk, and I brought my tuchus over and put it down on the seat right next to her.

  “How do you do? I’m Ruthie,” I said and that’s when I knew I was lost, when I looked for the first time into those eyes. Like diamonds they twinkled, like stars, like the sun dancing on the ocean in a million pieces, all that and more was shining in my Evie’s eyes.

  “I’m Evie,” she said. “How do you do?” And I couldn’t even answer her, my voice was gone, on a trip it went, a vacation all of a sudden it took, I couldn’t find it, so I went to take a drink of milk, but I was so nervous, can you believe it, I started to choke. And to make things worse, Evie clapped me on the back, and when I felt her hand touch me, even through my sweater and my blouse, I felt a charge, like a jolt, like I just put instead of the plug my finger in the socket, God forbid, but I swear, sure as I’m sitting here, it’s true. And Evie was so concerned, she looked at me, so serious.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, and all I could see were those two eyes above me, blue as the sky, like God finished making the heavens and he had a little fabric left over and decided the only thing left to do is make those little bits of heaven into Evie’s eyes. Finally I got hold of myself and we ate our lunch and had a conversation, about what I couldn’t tell you, whatever young girls talk about, school and families, this and that; whatever she said, I don’t think I heard a word, I was too busy drowning in those blue, blue eyes.

  Evie and I became fast friends after that. Every day we ate lunch together, every day together we walked home from school, Evie lived around the corner from me, how lucky could I get, I began to think maybe after all I did shine a little bit in God’s eyes. Sometimes we’d study at her house, sometimes we’d study at mine, we became like part of each other’s families, I would eat supper by her, she would eat supper by me, the Babka Sisters my mother used to call us, you know what babka is, darling, a dessert so sweet, with cinammon they make it sometimes, sometimes with chocolate, Evie and I loved it, we ate it all the time, so my mother gave us like a nickname, you know, like a joke. “Look who’s here, the Babka Sisters,” she’d say after school when we rang the bell.

  Sometimes we’d have sleep-over dates, too. It was nothing unusual, all the girls did in those days. Evie would sleep over my house, I had my own room, not that we was so rich but because it ain’t nice, a girl can’t sleep with her brothers, so what could my mother do? Evie had a sister, Shirley her name was, and they shared one room, two beds they had, two dressers, two desks, everything matching you know, except the two girls, they didn’t match so good, they was different as day and night, they used to fight like cats and dogs, so over to our house Evie came, every chance she could get.

  So where was the boys, I bet you’re thinking, two teenage girls, gorgeous like we was and neither of us had a fella? Me, the boys was never interested in, I was too much of a tomboy for them, my mother used to wring her hands and say, “Ruthie, take little steps, why do you have to walk like a truck?” And Evie, I think the boys were afraid of her, so beautiful she was, and so smart, she beat them by a mile, and then they’d have to get past me of course to get near her, we was always together and I wouldn’t let them so easily by.

  Sometimes when Evie and I were up in my room studying, I’d watch her out of the corner of my eye, so gorgeous she looked studying or writing, or just chewing her pencil. If she glanced up, I’d look away quickly, but once in a while, I’d meet her gaze. And sometimes I caught her staring at me, too.

  “What?” I’d say, feeling kind of nervous, though I didn’t know why.

  “Nothing,” Evie would answer with a shrug and a smile.

  One night Evie was sleeping over, it was Shabbos I remember, my mother had made such a beautiful supper: her matzo ball soup that she was famous for all up and down the avenue, and fresh challah from the bakery and a roasted chicken, we was so full, we was busting after, such a feast it was. Evie and I helped my mother with the supper dishes and then we first had coffee and babka, no matter how stuffed we was we always had room for babka, and then we went up to my room. Evie had been a little quiet that night, and a few times I caught her staring at me across the supper table, but I didn’t ask no questions, I figured if she had something to tell me, she’d tell. She looked a little moony that night, and I was only afraid she shouldn’t tell me she had a crush on a fella, she couldn’t spend so much time with me now, on dates she was gonna go out, and believe me if that’s what Evie was going to say, I wasn’t in a big hurry to find out.

  Evie went into the bathroom to get undressed like she always did, and I got undressed as well. We both wore long, white nightgowns, cotton they were, everybody did back then. I turned off the light, lifted back the covers, and got into bed. It was dark, but not so you couldn’t see, the moon shone right in my window, I still remember, it was full that night. Like a spotlight it was, shining down on Evie when she came back to my room, like a movie star she looked, I remember, there was something different about her, and then I realized what it was: instead of in a braid, all her hair, all those thick, black waves, was loose and hanging down.

  “Ruthie, will you brush my hair?” Evie asked, her voice slow and thick and dreamy, and when I climbed out of bed and went to her, my movements were slow and dreamy, too. I took the brush from Evie’s hand and stood behind her in the moonlight, brushing her hair from the crown of her head all the way down to her tiny, tiny waist. Up and down my hands went, brushing her hair for hours it seemed, days maybe, long after the last knot
was untangled, long after her hair shone like a wet, black stone. Hypnotized I was, like a spell I was under, I couldn’t move a muscle except for my arms, which couldn’t stop brushing, brushing. I only want-ed that moment to never end, me, Evie, the hairbrush, the moonlight, if I died right then and there I wouldn’t be sorry, because I had already tasted a bit of heaven. But thank God my time wasn’t up, for what happened after that I wouldn’t have missed for anything: Evie turned around, the hairbrush clattered down from my hand, and before I even knew what was happening, there she was, my girl in my arms.

  “Ruth,” she whispered, and her mouth was so close to mine, I could feel her sweet breath on my skin and I breathed it in, wanting every part of her. “Ruth,” she said again—not Ruthie, Ruth, like my name was holy, a prayer that could be answered only with her name, “Evelyn,” like the song of the nightingale it was, so sweet on my lips. “Evelyn,” I said again, “Evelyn.” “Ruth,” she answered and then she put her mouth on top of mine, and then we didn’t say no more.

  Her lips, how can I describe her lips, sweeter than challah they were, sweeter than babka, and soft, so soft, I was almost afraid if I licked them they would dissolve on my tongue, they would melt away like water. When Evie kissed me, the world as I had always known it came forever to an end, and a new world, a world so sweet, so fine, so holy and precious took its place instead.

  It was Evie who broke that kiss and led me to the bed, the same bed we had slept in together for so many nights, but like Pesach, I knew this night would be different from all other nights, I knew there would be no nightgowns that evening to separate flesh from flesh. Evie was so confident, so unashamed, so proud, takeh, of her feelings for me, that I wasn’t even afraid. She took my hands and put them on her breasts and I gasped at their softness, their firmness, their ripeness, so smooth and white her breasts were, her nipples so hard and rubbery and sweet, I swooned to take them under my tongue.

  What, so surprised you are that an old woman like me should talk so, all you young girls with your blue hair and pierced eyebrows, up there at the university in your women’s history class, you think there was no such girls in my time, you think you’re the first, you think maybe you invented it? Well I’ve got news for you, there’s more to tell, so either turn your tin can off and I’ll keep still, or put your eyes back in your head, sit back, and listen.

  Now then, I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. So gentle Evie was, but so fierce, too, like a Vildeh Chayah, you know what that means, like a wild little beast.

  “Here,” she said, putting my hand where it never went before. “Harder,” she said, “lower. Like this,” and she put her hand on top of mine and showed me what to do. Where she learned such things, I didn’t know, I didn’t want to know, what did I care, all I wanted was to hear her breath coming hard and fast against my ear, her little cries of “Oy oy, oy,” and then “Ruthie, my Ruthie, and then just “yes, yes, yes,” oh how she crooned as my hands went up and down, in and out, all over her, my Evie who trembled, and shook, and yelped so loud I was only afraid my mother shouldn’t come in, and then finally fell back against the pillow and was still.

  And if that wasn’t enough, dayenu, then Evie decided it was my turn. And when she put her hands on me, when she put her mouth on me, when she set my body on fire, I melted into the bed, takeh, like a puddle of schmaltz I was, all ooze and no bone. And then, hours later, when the moon had moved halfway across the sky and the stars were almost gone, we fell asleep, close, Evie’s sweet little hand in mine.

  The next morning we got up late, so quiet the house was, I knew it was empty except for that devilish look in Evie’s eye. We picked up where we left off the night before, and so caught up in each other we was, we didn’t hear my mother’s foot on the step, we didn’t hear her hand on the knob, my poor mother, so innocent she was, what did she know, she threw open the door and said, “So, nu, Babka Sisters, it’s almost noon, ain’t you getting up?” But of course we was up already, Evie was up on top of me, in fact, stark naked she was, her hips going up and down like a horse on a merry-go-round, her arms reaching for the sky.

  “Gottinyu, vey iss mir, my God!” my mother shrieked. Evie rushed to cover herself, the door slammed, I started to cry.

  “Don’t,” Evie whispered, licking my tears like a puppy. “It’s all my fault, I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “What’ll we do?” I wailed, but before Evie could answer, my mother came upstairs again. This time she knew enough to knock. “Ruthie, I think your friend better go home now,” she said, my friend, she couldn’t even say her name, and then one-two-three, Evie was gone.

  Oy, was I in trouble, was my goose cooked, I’m telling you. My mother wouldn’t even look on me, so ashamed she was. My father didn’t know what to do, he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what, my mother wouldn’t speak of such things to him, but with one look she told him and my brothers I was in trouble but good. So no one talked to me at home, but never mind, I had bigger problems to worry about. On Monday when I went back to school, Evie was absent. I couldn’t remember her ever being absent before and I was worried sick. What happened to her, did she hurt herself, did her parents know, too, were they punishing her, did she maybe run away? I only wanted to run to her house but I didn’t dare, so much trouble I was in already, if I didn’t come home right from school, my mother would kill me for sure. And I wanted to be right by the phone when Evie called, surely she would at least call? But call she didn’t; instead a letter came. All typed up it was, all formal, like a business letter it was, nu, and this is what it said:

  “Dear Ruthie:

  I don’t want to see you anymore. What we did was wrong, we should be ashamed of ourselves. It’s a blessing your mother came in when she did; we’re still young, we still have a chance to live the life God wants us to, with a husband and children and grandchildren, God willing. I am getting help from the rabbi, and I hope you will do the same.” And she signed it “Evie,” and that was all.

  Turn off the tape recorder, will you, darling? I need a minute to catch my breath here, maybe a drink of water you could get me, there’s a cup there, over by the sink. It still feels like a punch in the stomach, I remember reading that letter over and over, a thousand times I read it and all the while I could barely breathe. I called her of course, right away I called her, but her mother wouldn’t let her come to the phone. She never even came back to school again, a few months later the whole family moved away, and Evie, my sweet, sweet Evie was gone.

  So the years went by, life went on, it don’t wait for nobody. I graduated from school, I got married, two children I had, a boy and a girl, I never really had feelings for my husband, but he was a good man, kind, a good provider, and my children, may they live and be well and call me once in a while, my children I loved of course, after all they are my own flesh and blood. With my husband, I did my duty, when he wanted me to come to him, I came, he deserved that much after all, and I tried not to let him know for me it was nothing, a waste of my time, but nu, such a thing is hard to hide, I think, takeh, he knew. I tried not to think about Evie, too painful it was, like a thousand knives going right through my heart, but every once in a while I couldn’t help myself, I’d see someone who looked like her on the street and I’d wonder, where is she now, is she married, is she happy, is she all right, but of course I never knew.

  And then one day, years later it was, the children were already married, I think my little granddaughter was already born, my little Madeline—ooh, you should have seen her, darling, so smart, so cute, like a little pumpernickel she was—anyway, one day out of nowhere, Evie’s face came to me like a dream, like a vision, I just couldn’t get her out of my mind. By this time my husband was gone already, he died young, a heart attack it was, did he love to eat, my Harry, I always told him to lighten up on the butter, go easy on the eggs, but did he listen to me? No, so nu, here I was, a widow at fifty-three, that ain’t so old, but already I was going a little crazy, every t
ime I turned around, Evie’s face I saw, on the bus, on the TV, late at night when I closed my eyes. Five days it’s like this and then all of a sudden, as sudden as she came, just as sudden, she’s gone. And then four days after that, a letter I got, it fell into my hands from nowhere, straight out of the sky.

  “Dear Ruthie,” it said, “maybe you don’t remember me, so many years it’s been, and who knows, maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. But I was in the hospital last week, five days I was there, a stroke they thought I had, an aneurysm maybe, they’re still not sure, but I’m telling you, I almost died. A person changes from an experience like that, you know, I got home, everything looked different, I started thinking long and hard about my life, such a close call it was, but God in his wisdom took pity on me and gave me a second chance, don’t ask me why. So nu, I started thinking about you, Ruthie, and I know you never wanted to see me again, you said so in the letter, I still have it, after all these years I could never throw it away, and maybe you still don’t want to know from me, but I thought what could it hurt, so much time has passed, I’m going to write to you, and maybe you could write back to me and let me know you’re still alive. Are you okay Ruthie? Are you happy? Have you had a good life? If you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand, but I want you to know I never forgot you, and I ain’t mad on you for what happened. Your old friend, Evie.”

  My heart started pounding so, I was only afraid I shouldn’t have a heart attack, I sat down on the kitchen chair and read the letter again, once I read it, twice, a thousand times. I couldn’t believe Evie had found me again after all these years. Nu, I’m still in the old neighborhood, I only moved a few blocks away, but still, I had a different last name, maybe she hired a detective, I didn’t know, I was too excited, I only found out later she knew someone who knew someone who knew someone….you know it was a miracle from God that brought us back together, plain and simple, that’s what it was. And finally after all these years, I knew what had happened, I put two and two together, I realized my mother wrote Evie a letter, the same letter Evie’s mother wrote to me, and neither one could be further from the truth. I told Evie so, I sat down right then and there and wrote her a letter, my hand trembling so, I didn’t know if she would be able to make out the words, so shaky they were on the page. I told her I loved her then and I loved her now, I told her how I couldn’t stop thinking about her the five days she was in the hospital, like a vision she was, her face pale as a ghost. Two days later I picked up the phone and heard her voice, three days after that I picked her up at the airport and held her in my arms.