Bashert (2 page)

The choir took a break, and Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. The holidays loomed ahead—long and lonely. There wouldn’t be many other celebrations around the campus. Most everyone was leaving for home.
Except me.
Money was tight, but that wasn’t the issue. The insular community in upstate New York wasn’t home. Not anymore. Maybe it never had been. And since he hadn’t spoken to his parents in months, he assumed they weren’t expecting him. He figured he wouldn’t be missed.

Jonah hadn’t turned out to be the mensch they wanted. On the outside, he’d been a good Jewish boy. He obeyed his parents, studied, and followed the rules. At thirteen, he became a bar mitzvah, a man in the eyes of the Jewish community. He went to synagogue regularly, and ate kosher. But inside his secret festered. He liked boys. And not even nice Jewish boys. No, even as a kid, he’d lusted after the blond-haired, blue-eyed goys. But only in secret.

Too quiet and obsessed with books, more than video games and sports, most of the other kids weren’t interested in playing with him. He had a few friends until he got to junior high school, and all the guys started obsessing about girls—girls they knew, girls they wanted to know, girls they would never know…. Jonah could add nothing to the conversation, and eventually the other boys noticed. They kept asking him if he liked this girl or that girl. Jonah couldn’t lie convincingly. It was easier to isolate himself.

If junior high was an unpleasant dream, high school was a nightmare. To his horror, he developed crushes on the jocks and sometimes caught himself staring. Jonah thought he could fix himself if he dated a female. He chose a quiet, studious girl, but the attraction never developed beyond friendship. Maybe he fooled a few of the kids, but not many. Only his parents were oblivious.

They were religious Jews, bound by the Torah and Jewish law, as well as tradition and their own conscience—and they believed being homosexual was contrary to Judaism. If it were true, then how could Jonah be gay and Jewish? He couldn’t. He had to choose one or the other. It was impossible. He had no choice. His attraction to boys was hardwired into his genes, his mind, and his soul. He would have to give up his faith and maybe his family.

Jonah knew he had to leave home, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change. Escape came in the form of a college scholarship. His mother, especially, had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of her baby going away to college, but in the end she went along with his dad, an underpaid civil servant, who thought the financial aid was a blessing from HaShem.

Jonah knew better. Why would God give him the means to explore his gay impulses? No, he’d studied his ass off to earn that scholarship because he was sick of pretending to be something he wasn’t, sick of trying to make himself into the man everyone expected him to be. Although his parents constantly professed that their home was a sanctuary, Jonah never felt that way, and it was at Hanukkah, more than any other holiday, that he felt like an outsider and a hypocrite. How could he celebrate the Jews’ victory over the Greeks, when the Jews were prejudiced against homosexuals and the Greeks weren’t? He couldn’t. It was only fitting that he come out to his parents on Hanukkah.

Admitting to his parents that he liked boys was humiliating and easily the toughest thing he’d ever done. At first Jonah had an anxiety attack and couldn’t get the words out, but at that point there was no going back. His parents took the news just about the way he expected they would. After all, Jonah was their only child, and they were losing not only their perfect son, but also any chance of grandchildren.

“I’m gay.”

His dad was stone-faced.

His mother started crying.

Then came a barrage of questions and recriminations.

“How do you know?”

“How can you be sure?”

“When did you find out?”

“What did we do wrong?”

“It’s this college. It put ideas in your head.”

“You can still apply to the local school and commute.”

And on and on and on….

Until the day he packed his bags and left.

T
HE
PROSPECT
of a lonely holiday in the empty residence hall depressed Jonah, and he decided to stop at the twenty-four-hour minimarket to pick up some comfort food. If he was still living at home, and his mother picked up on his mood, she’d get out the big soup pot and fill it with chicken, onions, carrots, celery, sweet potatoes, and parsnips. In a short time the fragrant smell of homemade chicken soup would permeate the house. Damn if he didn’t miss it. Today he would make do with canned soup and mac and cheese from a box.

Despite its small size, the market offered an impressive number of items. The shelves were packed to the gills with food, and useful items like toilet paper and napkins. There was usually high traffic, but not tonight.

Jonah walked down an aisle and narrowly missed stepping on a box of crackers. Ahead of him, some young punk in jeans and a leather jacket was walking with his arm stretched out, knocking boxes off the shelves.

“Hey,” Jonah called out, but the kid disappeared around the corner. Jonah shrugged it off. He hated confrontation.

Rounding the aisle, he saw the punk and a ponytailed buddy pointing at a dark exotic-looking man and laughing.
Mind your own business
. Jonah turned, prepared to go down another aisle, but he did a double take. The victim was wearing a yarmulke. Jews wore the skullcap when they prayed or studied the Torah. Back home, some observant men kept their heads covered all the time as a sign of devotion to God, but Jonah hadn’t met anyone here who did that.
And with good reason.

Either this man didn’t notice the punks taunting him, or he’d just decided to flat-out ignore them rather than stand up for himself. No. He wasn’t ignoring them, because Jonah could see the bottom lid of the man’s right eye twitching, an obvious sign of stress. The punks probably didn’t even notice, but Jonah did, because he had a compulsive habit of his own.

Since childhood, Jonah would rub his thumb against his fingers whenever he got anxious. Self-conscious, he would usually hide his hands in his pockets. One day another boy asked him if he was jerking off, and he’d been so embarrassed that he made a conscious effort to keep his hands still ever since. But he couldn’t rid himself of the habit entirely. To this day, he had calluses on his thumbs.

The man tried to walk away, but the punks blocked his path. Their laughter gnawed at Jonah. All his life he’d tried to avoid the mean kids, the ones who went after anybody who was different. Maybe it was time to grow a pair. “Hey, is that a Jew beanie?” Ponytail snorted.

“Nah,” his leather-jacketed friend shot back. “The hebe is just trying to cover his bald spot.”

“Let’s see.” Ponytail reached out, snatched the yarmulke right off the man’s head, and put it on his own. He struck a pose. “Hey, how do I look?”

“Like an asshole.” Jonah came up behind him, and grabbed the black cap.

Ponytail turned, snarling. “You should learn to mind your own business. You’re gonna be sorry you did that.”

“Not as sorry as you,” Jonah snapped. It looked like he might have to fight. His heart raced. His forefinger rubbed his thumb—clockwise. But he stood his ground. Over the punk’s shoulder, he saw their original target taking off his jacket. Clearly, the man intended to fight if necessary. First impressions were not always correct. The man was slim but muscular. He had a build that shouted gym rat. Two against two. Jonah breathed a little easier.

Suddenly, Leather Jacket started laughing. “You know, the Jew-lover is right. Anybody who wears one of those beanies is an asshole. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

It appeared the punks had reassessed their chances, and didn’t like the odds anymore. They took off, leaving Jonah and the other man staring at each other in awkward silence.

Finally the stranger approached him and held out a hand. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m Aaron Blumberg.”

For a second, Aaron’s scent distracted Jonah. He breathed it in—barely there, fresh yet musky…. Suddenly he remembered where he was, and he thrust the yarmulke into Aaron’s outstretched hand.

Aaron grinned and placed it back on his head. He reached out once again. Cheeks burning, Jonah shook Aaron’s hand. The man had a firm grip.

“Jonah Stern. And you’re welcome, but you look like you can handle yourself.”

Aaron had a pleasant laugh. It sent a shiver up Jonah’s spine. “I work out, but I doubt it would have come to that. These kids were just looking for a cheap laugh. They’re all mouth. I’m sure they thought a Jew with a yarmulke on his head wouldn’t fight back.”

Jonah winced inside. He’d thought the same thing. “Their parents should have taught them better.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he inspected Jonah’s sweater, clearly visible under his unbuttoned jacket. “Stern? I thought you were Jewish.”

“In name only.”

“Oh.” There was a few seconds of awkward silence. “Well, thanks again. Maybe I’ll see you around campus? I’m pursuing a graduate degree in English.”

Jonah’s eyes lit up. “I’m a freshman English major.”

“It’s a great department. Good luck.” Aaron smiled again and walked off to retrieve his jacket.

Obviously Aaron wasn’t interested in befriending a Jew who’d renounced his faith, and Jonah felt vaguely disappointed, but he had no idea why. Aaron was most definitely not his type, but Jonah was short on friends, and he and Aaron had a major in common. Shrugging off the letdown, Jonah found his canned soup and headed for the checkout counter.

There was Aaron, already paying for his items. Jonah almost called out to him, but he stopped himself just as Aaron walked out the door. Jonah handed some money to the cashier, picked up his bag, and left the store. Aaron was halfway down the block. Suddenly the same two punks emerged from a dark storefront and shoved Aaron to the ground. One of them turned, saw Jonah, and motioned to his friend. They ran off laughing before Jonah caught up.

Infuriated, Jonah yelled at their retreating backs. Cursing under his breath, he stooped to help Aaron retrieve his scattered groceries. Aaron put a hand on his arm. “We have to stop meeting like this. Twice in one night. It must be
bashert
.”

Jonah looked at Aaron as if the other man had two heads.

“I’m a man who believes that things happen for a reason. Sometimes HaShem works in mysterious ways.”

Jonah offered up a bemused smile but he was almost glad that the bullies had struck again.
I must really be lonely
. Both men stood at the same time and Jonah shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Where do you live, Aaron?”

“Not far. Just a few blocks past the dorms.”

“We’re going in the same direction. I’ll walk with you. Just in case.”

“Good. I’d like the company.”

The two men walked at a leisurely pace, but they said little. At first Jonah was glad for the awkward silence, because he’d been afraid that Aaron would start proselytizing, and he wasn’t interested. But the lack of conversation left Jonah with too much time to think, and a half a block later, he started wondering why the hell he’d volunteered to walk this guy home in the first place. What could he do? They
were
going in the same direction, and he’d feared for Aaron’s safety. Those punks might be just around the corner, and they’d think twice before attacking two men.
Yeah, it’s my good deed for the year. A mitzvah.

“There’s your dorm.” Aaron nodded toward the building. “I’m only a few blocks farther.”

“I’ll walk with you.” The words were out before Jonah could stop them.

Aaron smiled and kept going. Another two blocks, and Aaron turned onto a path that led to a three-story brick building. “My estate,” he said, grinning. “Stop in for a minute.”

“I can’t. It’s late, and I’m expecting a call. From my family.”

Aaron looked really disappointed. Jonah almost changed his mind. Almost.

“Look, I really appreciate your help tonight. Let me thank you with dinner tomorrow.”

“I don’t know….”

“The campus is emptying out, and we’re both stuck here. Why spend the holiday alone when we can have dinner together? I’m in 2A. Come back tomorrow at four.”

What harm could it do? Jonah liked Aaron and he wanted some company, even if he had to celebrate Hanukkah to get it. “Okay, then. It’s a….” Jonah bit his tongue. He’d almost said
it’s a date
. And it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

L
ATKES
!

The smell of fried potatoes and onions filled the dim hallway. Jonah had never appreciated the odor when he was a kid. The overpowering aroma of the onions had always made his eyes water, but today the scent made his mouth water. And if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit the smell of potato pancakes made him just a little bit nostalgic and homesick.

Jonah knocked on the door, and Aaron opened it immediately.

“Smells great!”

Aaron positively beamed. “Thank you for coming, Jonah.” His face blushed red behind his stubble, and he stepped aside to let Jonah enter the small apartment.

Jonah felt a little guilty. He hadn’t been all that anxious to come back here. But Aaron didn’t know that. Jonah looked around. To his left was a small kitchen, to his right, a bathroom. The combination living room, and bedroom area was straight ahead. “This is nice. You’re lucky to have your own place.”

“I lived in the dorms my first year, just like everyone else. But my second year, I worked two part-time jobs and rented this efficiency. It’s not much, but the rent’s only gone up once since I moved in. Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Aaron led Jonah to a small round table set for two, in the living area, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron returned with two steaming platters of potato pancakes and baked chicken. The food smelled great and Jonah’s mouth watered, but before they dug in, Aaron recited a Hebrew blessing. Then the conversation between them flowed. Jonah learned that Aaron loved his books, cooking, and smooth jazz, in that order. And from what Jonah could tell, the man cooked as well as his mother, maybe better.