by Rena Rossner
I am mortified. Tati would never speak to Mami that way, or have her sit on his lap in public.
“It was delicious,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say.
“Nothing like Mama’s cooking,” Dovid’s brother Joseph says.
“To Mama, our ayshes chayil!” his youngest brother Benji toasts, and raises his glass.
The men and boys all clink their glasses and drink the wine. I haven’t touched mine; I was too busy trying not to make a fool of myself at the table. So much for that. I pick up my glass and clink it around and when my cup hits Dovid’s he grins at me and winks. When I drink I’m very warm inside, from my head down to the tips of my toes, and though it likely has something to do with the wine, the look in Dovid’s eyes makes me feel like it might be something more.
I put my hands down in my lap and grip my napkin so as not to do anything else embarrassing. Dovid’s brothers and even Mr. Meisels all get up to help clear the table. Dovid watches them and when their backs are turned I feel the brush of his fingers against mine under the table—tentative and soft.
My heart beats so fast I’m sure they can hear it in the kitchen. But my hand responds to his before I can overthink anything, and he laces his fingers with mine. His hand is warm, his grip comforting and strong; I don’t pull mine away.
38
Laya
My head clears
and my lips pulse
and throb in time
with the beats I hear.
The fog clears
and suddenly we’re
not alone anymore.
Miron plays his flute,
and Kliment’s on the fiddle,
and the music
is like rain.
Nothing like klezmer.
I feel the moonlight sway,
the heavens open up,
every sound is in my ears,
every taste is on my lips,
and I get up and start to dance,
twirling, spinning to the music.
More, I cry, breathless,
eyes wild and lit by flame.
I don’t even know
what I’m asking for.
More music?
More kisses?
More wine?
More dancing?
More moonlight?
I suck down another glass
of wine, and then another,
licking at the rims of goblets,
catching every drop
with my tongue.
I can’t get enough
of all the flavors,
the taste of fruit
and moonlight.
Blueberries, blackberries,
strawberries, damsons,
currants and gooseberries,
figs and cranberries,
pomegranates, mulberries,
melon and raspberries,
every taste but one …
Where did he go?
I need his lips
on mine.
I turn
and see Fedir
at my side,
his green-gold eyes
and his lips,
exactly where
they should be.
Waiting for me.
And I know
what I want
to taste next.
39
Liba
I feel as if I’m made of flame. I let go of his hand and get up out of my chair. “I should go look for my sister,” I say.
“I’ll go with you,” Dovid says and also gets up.
“Nobody is going anywhere until they have brisket and kugel,” Mrs. Meisels announces as she comes in bearing trays overflowing with meat and potatoes. “Let a goose loose in the oats and she will starve to death,” she clucks, looking at me.
I blush and sit back down again. I put my hands in my lap. I guess I can wait just a bit longer.
Dovid piles my plate high with brisket.
“They are gathering men to go out tomorrow night and hunt the bears,” his father says.
“What?” My stomach clenches.
“I’m going to walk you home—” Dovid says.
“After we finish eating!” Mrs. Meisels sings.
“After we finish eating.” Dovid clears his throat. “We can look for Laya on the way.”
I take a bite of meat and I have to close my eyes because it’s heaven. I groan and take another bite. This time, I know that when I open my eyes, Dovid will be laughing at me. But I don’t care. Something about his laugh, and his hand—everything about him—makes me feel good and warm and happy. And I think that maybe I want to feel this way for as long as I possibly can. Maybe it’s my turn to choose.
Besides, something tells me that Laya might not want to be found.
40
Laya
His lips leave mine
and I reach for him
again, but he takes
my hand in his
and kisses it instead.
My body flushes
the same color
as the wine.
He spins me round;
we dance and twirl
and twist as fire burns
and moonlight smolders
high above the trees.
We kiss. Again.
And again.
His lips taste like a missing flavor.
A fruit I never knew existed.
Laya … he purrs again, and I like
the sound of his voice in my ear,
his lips on my lips, his tongue
meeting my tongue.
The tastiest fruit,
I think. I wonder
what it’s called?
His hands are on my chest,
feeling the roundness
of my breasts;
my arms are up
around his neck
stroking the back
of his head;
my hands,
tangled in his hair,
then up and down
his back, and lower still.
How could I have thought
that this was wrong?
It feels so good.
He feels so strong.
I am hungry,
and he has fruits galore.
I would never be hungry again
if I was with him …
Fedir looks into my eyes.
I arch my neck back up
and nibble at his neck, his jaw.
More, I giggle.
The moon wanes, he says.
The fire dims and dawn
stretches her wings above us.
What? I pull my lips
away from his ear.
But I said … I wrinkle my brow.
I thought I’d only stay a while …
And you did, he grins,
but minutes become hours
in the blink of an eye.
He gives me a basket
full of fruit.
I can’t take this, I say.
For your sister and you
to share. He puts it in my hands.
I have no coin, I say.
You have gold aplenty,
he answers.
I squint my eyes.
Nothing makes sense.
The most precious of metals,
he says, fingering my hair.
Pay me in gold.
One lock of your hair.
But why? I ask.
So that I’ll never forget you.
His eyes are sad.
It’s just hair. I shrug.
His eyes glow with firelight.
He takes a dagger
from his belt
and cuts a piece.
Then takes out
a small pouch
and places
my hair inside.
He hangs the pouch
around his neck.
Now you will always
be close to my heart,
he says and picks me up.
> I squeal, but he is strong
and I am tired.
I will take you home, he says.
Home home home, I think.
I hug him and peck
a kiss on his cheek.
Okay, I say, not even wondering
how he knows where I live.
But what about
the bears?
I mumble.
I will keep you safe tonight,
he says.
The wine clouds
my good sense.
I put my arms
around his neck,
and nestle my head
against his chest.
And fall asleep.
41
Liba
After dinner, Dovid and I walk back to the cottage. First there is distance between us; the space between our bodies is like a hum—charged with possibility. But once we get deeper into the woods, he lightly brushes his hand against mine, and I don’t hesitate. I twine my fingers with his. I’m worried about Laya, wondering where she is, and his hand in mine feels like comfort. “Don’t worry,” Dovid says. “We’ll find her—I’m sure she’s fine.” It’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I go back and forth between looking around the forest for her, and reveling in the feel of his hand in mine. Who knows what the future has in store for me? His hand feels like a chance. And I want to take it.
Halfway there I stop.
“Are you okay?” he says.
“Yes, wait,” I whisper.
“Why did you stop?”
“Shhh … I just want to listen for a minute,” I say softly.
“Did you hear something?” he says into my ear.
And now I’m aware of his breath in my hair, his lips so close to my ear. He puts his hand on my back, as if to steady me, or to protect me. And I can’t deny that it feels so good I want to cry. I’m the bear! I want to say. I’m supposed to be the one who protects everyone, but I’m scared and the warmth of his hand on my back feels so good that I close my eyes at the sensation. This is wrong, Liba.
I turn around and his hand falls away. I look at him. I want to drown in his eyes. They are kind and warm and brown. There is something in the air—a different kind of hum. This one bounces between us, echoing off our bodies, twined with the light puffs of steam that our breathing makes in the cold air. My eyes skim his face and fall down to look at his lips. My pulse beats and it feels like the forest around us responds with a thrum of its own. The branches seem to creep closer, and the moon shines more brightly, illuminating Dovid’s face with silver light.
We hear the crack of branches and I startle. We need to find Laya.
“What was that?” I whisper.
Dovid puts his arm around me and pulls me close as he looks around.
“I think it was just the rustle of the wind in the trees,” he says.
I nod. “Sorry. I’m just a little jumpy.” I lick my lips and swallow, willing my breath to still. “I’m worried about Laya. I’ll feel better when I know she’s home, safe and sound.” I start to walk again, but Dovid pulls me back.
“What did you see in the woods on your way to our house?” he asks, searching the trees around us with his eyes.
I swallow and take a deep breath. “I thought I heard someone following me.”
“I really don’t like you being out here alone …”
“Which is why I’m worried about my sister. We should keep walking. It’s not the first time I’ve heard something strange in the woods. Yesterday I could’ve sworn someone was watching me too. At first I thought it was this man who approached me in the marketplace. He said his name was Ruven, he looked like a Chassid, but there was something strange about the way he looked at me. How often do strange men come to Dubossary?”
“Not very often, but recently more and more.”
“Exactly.”
“But it couldn’t have been him tonight. It’s Friday night—he would have been in shul, right?”
I nod.
“Except … I didn’t see a man like that in shul,” Dovid says.
“There’s more than one shul in our town. Maybe he went to pray where Tati prays sometimes—at the Chassidishe shtieble.”
“True.”
“Something’s been off for a while, Dovid. My Tati said it to me on the night of the wedding. He kept saying there was something in the air. I don’t want people to think I’m crazy—but I think he’s right. I feel it too. And it all started when the Hovlins came to town.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to think you’re crazy, Liba. People are missing … I really think you should tell the kahal. Come to our next meeting, it’s motzei shabbes.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure how much it will help. It’s not like I understand what I feel. And I don’t really have a description of anyone—just a stranger named Ruven, and all he did was buy honey from me in the marketplace. That’s not really enough to make anyone guilty.”
“It is in times like these.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone looking strangely at you …” Dovid leans forward. I think he’s going to whisper something in my ear, but instead, his lips touch mine. I’m so shocked I freeze. I pull back to say, “Dovid, no, it’s asur,” but he leans forward again as if asking for permission. I move a tiny bit closer to him. I can’t seem to stop myself. His lips start moving against mine before I get a chance to say anything. It feels as if he’s saying, Have you been waiting for this too?
His lips are so soft, and my body pounds with the heat that races from our mouths down through every part of me. I feel as if I’m on fire, as if the two of us here in this copse could ignite the forest and raze it to the ground. But then I feel pain in my mouth: my teeth hurt. In response, my lips grow more insistent, pressing harder; my tongue meets his and my teeth nip at his lips. I taste blood and pull away. Panting.
I turn from him. I’m trembling. My first kiss and I drew blood. I managed to muck this up too. My face is red and flushed and my teeth ache. What’s wrong with me? I tasted his blood on my tongue and every pore of my body felt like it was going to explode. Was I going to eat him?
“Liba?” He bends his head down and takes my chin in his hand. “Are you okay?” His eyes search mine.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
I’m shaking too hard to answer. I turn and run. All I want to do is get back home and find Laya. I’m terrified of nails that turn black, long teeth that grow, fur that could sprout in all the wrong places. This was a bad idea. There’s a reason these things are forbidden. To protect us. To protect him from me. Tears stream down my face. I only want to get home and find my sister and lock the door to our cabin and never come out. Why did Mami and Tati leave us? Why?
Dovid catches up with me and grabs my arms.
“No! Let me go!” I cry out.
“Shh … Liba … stop … don’t be afraid.” He lets go. “Why are you running from me?”
I shake my head as the tears keep falling.
“I need to find my sister.”
“Okay, I’m coming with you. You don’t have to run.”
“Did I hurt you? Please! Just tell me …” I ask him.
“Hurt me?” he says.
Everything stops around me: time, trees, leaves, air. “I did. I can tell. I’m so sorry,” I say. I am a beast, not a girl, I want to say.
“No! No …” He looks into my eyes. “Liba, you didn’t hurt me!”
“I didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “I liked it,” he says. “You’re a fierce kisser.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I shake my head and blush, trying not to laugh even though I want to. I press my hands to my eyes to stop the tears.
“Why did you run from me?” he says.
“Because I thought I bit you … I’ve never kissed anyone ever in my life. I thought I did it wrong …”
“You
didn’t do anything wrong. That was … the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had …”
I open my eyes, “You’ve had others?”
He blushes. “No.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Liba … you’re as pretty as the moon, bright and shining. Your hair is like the night, and your lips … I’ve never tasted anything like them. Please don’t run from me.”
I can’t believe his words. These are not words that have ever been meant for me. I shake my head. “Why are you saying these things?”
“What do you mean?”
“People don’t say these things to me.” I look down at my feet.
“Hey …” He puts his fingers on my chin and I look up at him. “You light up every room you’re in, Liba. You have since you were a little girl. There’s an intensity to you. You take things seriously; you watch the world and think critically about it. There’s something beneath the surface of your skin that I want to learn all about. I always have.”
I can’t believe his words.
“Can I confess something?” he asks.
I nod.
“I’ve always been jealous of you and your father. The long walks you take together, the way he always seems to share his wisdom with you—I’ve watched the way you drink in everything he says. The way you look at him with admiration—as though he is the sun and you just want to soak in all the light he can give you.”
“You were jealous of me?” I laugh. “Dovid, I’ve spent my life longing for the way that you and your friends can study Torah and Talmud. Wishing I was a boy so I could learn too. My Tati only started studying with me because he saw the way I looked at the yeshiva, the way I would stand outside its doors, hoping to hear what was happening inside.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not a boy,” Dovid says.
“Me too,” I whisper. And for the first time, I think I might mean it.
“Touching your hand under the table set my body on fire,” he says, “and kissing you just now …”
“But it’s asur, Dovid.” I swallow hard, saying the right words but not wanting to hear them.
His eyes are wide and warm and honest. “I know. But I couldn’t help myself,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for years, and that night at the wedding—it was the first time you ever even looked my way.”