Chageet's Electric Dance

by Ashir, Rebecca

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I almost forgot to tell you! I read in the newspaper today that Rave, in order to lighten his prison sentence, agreed to testify that John Prince—I mean Garrison Stool (I always forget to call him by his real name)—was the one who actually burned down Farrell’s!”

  “What?!” Barbey was shocked.

  “It appears as if John Prince had followed you guys to Farrell’s and when Rave went in the bathroom to set a smoke bomb, John Prince was waiting for him in there. Surprised to see John Prince there, Rave told him that he was going to set off a smoke bomb for fun. I guess John Prince was really jealous that Rave was dating you, as he claimed to have met you first, before Rave even knew you, at a dance contest. So, he decided to get Rave back and set him up for arson to get him out of the picture, so he could date you.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No! Just listen. So, John Prince smoked a joint of marijuana with Rave in the bathroom and then told Rave that he would set the smoke bomb for him and sneak out the bathroom window, so nobody would know it was them. Rave agreed and went back into the restaurant and sat down at the booth.”

  “Oh, my gosh! I guess that was when I was at the fortune teller machine waiting for him.”

  “Well, it turns out that John Prince set a real fire in the bathroom trash can which caused the whole restaurant to burn down. Rave said John Prince was hoping to frame him for the fire, but then changed his mind when Rave told him that night that he wasn’t really interested in you anyway and he was just using you to win back Suzie Albers and that John Prince could do whatever he wanted with you.”

  “Oh.” Barbey was silent and stared down at the red tiled floor.

  “I’m sorry, Barbey. I’m sure he really did like you, but he had to tell John Prince something to keep himself out of prison. Otherwise, John Prince would have called the police anonymously or something and said he saw Rave in the bathroom just before the fire started. You know Rave only thinks about himself.”

  “Believe me—I don’t care anymore whether he liked me or not. It’s all just so sick and repulsive.”

  47

  It was late evening when Barbey walked down the stairs of Gavriel’s home barefoot because her stiletto heels were hurting her feet and did not match the gown the woman had left on the chair for her. To her surprise, the dress was quite elegant, though conservative, made of white silk with gold beads trimming the high neck bodice, the long sleeves, and the long hemline. She felt like a bride in the dress and this embarrassed her extraordinarily, so she tried to think about the smooth texture of the wooden stair rails and couldn’t help but notice the delicious scent of baked bread wafting up through the air as she proceeded downwards toward the kitchen. Gavriel was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer smirking at her when she looked up.

  “Let me wonder,” he said. “My grandmother got you and make you cook? No?” He laughed, making a loud, “HA!” sound as he slapped his thighs once.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here,” Barbey snapped.

  He smiled at her and retorted, “I live here—no?”

  “I thought you’d be at work,” she said, brushing past him, heading to the kitchen.

  He came up from behind, smoothing the back of his hair down as he approached. “No, tell me—are you staying for Shabbat?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned around and stopped.

  Smirking again, he said, “If you stay for dinner, you can’t leave. Mi abuela won’t allow it.”

  “I was drunk last night,” she said sternly.

  “Yes, I know,” he sang the words patronizingly.

  “Well, the night wasn’t memorable at all.”

  His smile grew wider. “It was for me,” he responded pushing out his chest. “Oh, you were good. You were wild.”

  She pushed him in a fury.

  “Hey, hey, hey… I was joking.” He backed up with his hands in the air. “Nothing happened. I walked you to your car. You were crying and I brought you here to sleep. You said you have no family, no friends, no love. I feel sorry for you, so I brought you home.”

  “Well, don’t feel sorry for me, ok.” She was relieved. “I would have already gone home—it’s just that my landlord is fumigating the building and nobody’s allowed to stay at the apartments tonight and then my car won’t start.” She was lying. “If I can’t stay here, I can find another place to stay.”

  “You’re kidding. If you stay here, I can brag about it. I’ll look good at the club.” In exaggeration, he scanned her body with his eyes.

  She looked at him indignantly.

  “I’m kidding! Of course you should stay.” He paused and looked at her seriously for a moment. “I hope you stay.”

  ****

  Gavriel’s Grandmother was setting up a silver polished candelabra on a wooden shelf that extended from the wall in the formal dining room of the house. Curious, Barbey walked over to take a look at what the old woman was doing. The woman placed four long white candles in the ornate sockets of the candelabra, lit the candles, waving at the flames for a moment as if to inhale the light, and then covered her eyes with her hands and said a prayer in a foreign language. She then motioned Barbey to her, pointed at two tea lights she had placed next to the candelabra for Barbey to light, giving directions all the while in Spanish.

  Embarrassed and self-conscious, Barbey said to the woman, “Un momento,” and then hurried into the kitchen to get Gavriel who was stirring and tasting the chicken soup that was sitting on a sheet of metal atop the stove burners.

  “Your grandmother wants me to light some candles I think.” She paused for a moment, changing her mind, too proud to ask for help. “Oh, never mind.” She scowled at him in irritation and hurried back into the dining room.

  There was something about this act of lighting candles that seemed strangely profound, making this simple deed entirely stressful, as if bringing the fire to these two wicks were comparable to jumping off a cliff into a vast mysterious ocean. Suddenly she was ashamed—she didn’t know why this feeling had consumed her. I’m being ridiculous. Just light the candles! She struck the match and lit the two wicks, waved at the flames the way the old woman had, and looked anxiously at the woman who was standing behind her. The woman lifted Barbey’s hands to her eyes gently, and slowly pronounced the foreign prayer, word by word, as Barbey repeated after her. Releasing her fears, Barbey let each word penetrate her being. She could feel the vibrations of the syllables in her throat and chest. And as she finished the prayer, she felt something light, yet intangible slide into her body as she lifted her hands from her face and stared into the flames of light before her. Now she was a different person—she was not pretending or acting. She felt lighter and more complete. This scared her. She considered running out the door, but thought better of it and sat down at the dining table for a moment, turning away from the woman, afraid to reveal the change that had occurred from within her being.

  About an hour after sunset, Gavriel and his father, Diego Mercava, returned home from the evening prayer services. Diego was a tall, heavy, wide shouldered man with a grand presence. He wore a black leather gambler’s hat with a concho stud band and a black Italian suit with black cowboy boots. When he spoke through his thick, black, speckled with gray beard to Gavriel as they entered the room, his low voice seemed to vibrate against the walls, reminding Barbey of the sound of thunder just before a storm.

  Gavriel, looking to Barbey like a mobster in his black Italian suit and fedora hat, smiled at her serenely as she sat on the leather sofa. He winked and said smoothly, “Shabbat shalom” and proceeded to introduce Barbey to his father, who nodded and mumbled in English, “Good to meet you.”

  Though Gavriel possessed the same wide shoulders, he looked quite thin next to his massive father. Barbey saw that he got his tall, thin physique and energetic personality from his mother, Dina Mercava, who rushed in behind the men in a frantic chatter, kissing Barbey
on both sides of the cheek, singing out in English, “Shabbat shalom, Shabbat shalom! Beautiful girl.” She paused momentarily before the mirror on the wall to wipe red lipstick from her teeth, as she hollered to Gavriel in Spanish to open the curtains in the adjoining dining room, which he did, giving light to the view of the city below. Quickly, she pulled a white lace doily off her black, stiff, roller-set hair and tossed it on the console table. Without pause, she stepped out of her pumps, while simultaneously unbuttoning her gray suit jacket, as she hurried into the kitchen to help the old woman with the food.

  After a quick knock at the door, not waiting for a response, Señor and Señora Dov, an old couple, both heavy set and fair complexioned, entered with their tall, attractive, blonde, curly haired grandson behind them. The grandson shook hands familiarly with Gavriel. Señora Dov looked at Barbey inattentively through her thick black eyeliner and kissed her, smearing red lipstick on both sides of Barbey’s cheeks in between her heated argument with her husband, which Barbey could not understand, as they spoke swiftly in Spanish and sat down at the dining table, never stopping their argument for a moment.

  “Miguel, this is Barbey,” Gavriel said to the grandson. “We work together at the club.” Then he looked to Barbey who was wiping the lipstick off her cheeks, “Barbey, this is mi amigo, Miguel.”

  Barbey was startled and embarrassed—immediately she recognized him as the young man who had asked for her phone number years ago at the movie theater just after Rave had abandoned her. She had always wondered why he had never called her and now here he was standing before her, unaware of their former acquaintance. Her face grew flush when she realized that Gavriel must have been the other guy at the movie theater with Miguel the night he asked for her number. Miguel had approached Barbey in the theater lobby, telling her that he needed her to help him win a bet that he had with his friend (Gavriel) who bet him that she wouldn’t give him her number. Contemplating the situation momentarily, she figured that Miguel would not recognize her because when she met him, her hair was bleached blonde and now it was black. Anyway, she decided it would be awkward to mention their prior acquaintance. “It’s good to meet you, Miguel,” she smiled flirtatiously, trying to irritate Gavriel, as she hoped this would make him jealous. Though she felt a little guilty about toying with Gavriel, she now liked having power over men and found the dynamics of the present situation slightly amusing.

  Miguel put his hands in his slacks’ pockets, shifting his weight to one leg. “You look familiar. Have we ever met?”

  Barbey was surprised at how much his English had improved since they first met years ago. “I don’t think so. Are you Mexican?”

  He appeared a little irritated by the question.

  “I’m only asking because you speak English so well and you’re blonde.”

  “Yes, I’m Mexican, but I study at Harvard University and the professor made me dye my hair blonde. Gavriel graduated from Stanford…”

  “But he’s too young to have a college degree.” Barbey was shocked that Gavriel already had a degree from such a prestigious university.

  “They take anyone at that school—even dark haired Mexican babies like this dope with stupid accents and bad grammar. They said he’s a genius, so they put up with his hair.” He laughed and winked at Barbey.

  “Very funny,” she responded sarcastically. She could now hear that Miguel had a slight accent. “I can tell that you’re a natural blonde.”

  Gavriel chimed in, “His mother emigrated from Poland. She is blonde also. And his father—he was Russian and…” He paused, trying to find the right words.

  “Just Russian,” said Miguel. “My father’s dead, but he was of Russian decent. That’s my grandparents,” he pointed at Señor and Señora Dov who were still arguing at the table. “They are both Russian.”

  Gavriel laughed, “They are all Mexican though. Miguel’s grandparents argue often, but they love each other like soul mates.”

  Gavriel’s mother called everyone to the table for dinner. His father began singing a song called “Shalom Aleichem” and the others, aside from Barbey and Gavriel’s grandmother, joined in. Gavriel explained to Barbey, who was sitting beside him, that the song was about welcoming the angels that had accompanied them home from prayer services, asking them to bless them with peace, and wishing them peace on their departure. After they finished singing, Diego Mercava stood up from the head of the table where he was sitting and put his hand over Gavriel’s head and then over Miguel’s head and said blessings. Everyone then began to sing another song called “Ashet Chayil”. Barbey looked to Gavriel for explanation and he explained that this was a song celebrating women and all the hard work that they do for the families. After this song, Diego Mercava made Kidush, filling a silver cup with sweet red wine, saying a prayer over the wine and commemorating the creation of the heavens and the earth, honoring the seventh day as a day of abstaining from the 39 creative activities that encompassed the creation of the holy Tabernacle, which holds the Ten Commandments, and commemorating the Exodus from Egypt where they had been slaves for over 400 years. When he finished the prayer, he poured a little wine from his cup into tiny silver cups for everyone, passed them around and they all drank. Barbey followed everyone into the kitchen where they all washed their hands with a silver washing cup and said a blessing, thanking The Master of the Universe for purifying their hands, which connects them to the Infinite Light in holiness and purity, removing all spiritual impediments, preparing them to except the Manna from Heaven. They returned to the table and Diego Mercava lifted a decorative black velvet cloth from atop two loaves of challa bread, symbolizing the Manna God gave the Hebrews when He took them out of Egypt. He held the loaves in his hands, said a blessing over the bread, sliced it up, dipping each piece in a little salt before passing the pieces around the table.

  While they were eating the bread, Miguel said to Barbey from across the table, “After God inflicted the Egyptians with the ten plagues for not releasing the Hebrews from slavery as He commanded, He brought the Hebrews into the desert and sustained them on Manna, which were flakes of sustenance that rained down from the heavens above and tasted delicious like whatever each person desired. Each morning, everyone gathered just enough to satisfy them for the day and no more, but on the six day of the week, God commanded them to gather double portions so that they could have Manna that day and for the seventh day which is Shabbat. These loaves of challa we just ate symbolize the double portion of Manna we collected to prepare for Shabbat.”

  “I’ve never heard that the Manna tasted like whatever you wanted,” Gavriel said to Miguel and then looked to his father. “Is this true?”

  “Si—esta en Me’am Lo’ez,” Diego Mercava mumbled, wiping his beard with his napkin.

  “Yeah, I read it in the commentary in one of the Me’am Lo’ez books.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

  Dina Mercava stood up from the table, fluffing her hair, and said to Barbey, as she walked toward the kitchen, “Now we eat the meal.”

  Barbey got up to help her in the kitchen and Gavriel’s grandmother waddled behind.

  An animated conversation in Spanish began at the table: “Who’s that girl?” Señora Dov asked Gavriel dramatically. She didn’t wait for an answer, “Who’s that girl?”

  Señor Dov butted in, wiping his thick square glasses, “Why are you always getting so excited about everything? Can’t you see she’s Gavriel’s new girlfriend. Do you have to be so nosy?”

  “Oh, mind your own business, Fishel.” She turned back to Gavriel, “Well, I’m waiting for an answer.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s the best dancer we have at the club. Abuela invited her to stay for Shabbat. She’s pretty, eh?”

  “Muy bonita!” Señora Dov kissed the tips of her fingers animatedly. “What’s her name?”

  “She has a unique name—sounds like a stage name for an actress. It’s Barbey Bardot.”

  Dumbfounded, both Señora and
Señor Dov looked at Gavriel, their faces blank in bewilderment. “What are her parents’ names?” Señora Dov asked excitedly.