Read Online Hassidic Passion by Jayde Blumenthal - Free Book Online Page B

lecture about how he was throwing away a lifetime of Torah study.
    “Thank you so much,” he found himself saying again.
    “I think you’ll be very happy working,” said the rosh yesh iva.  “I’m proud of you – mazel tov on the new job.”
    Beryl thanked him again, said goodbye, and hung up.
    And that was it. 
    In two phone calls, he had cut off his ties to childhood.  How could so much change in not even two weeks?
     
    He looked at the screen of his phone – and saw the message from Raizy.  She was on her way home from the mikveh . 
    Suddenly, his news flew out the window.
    A job?  Quitting yeshiva?  That was nothing.
    He was, for the second time in his life, about to get laid.  To fuck.  To screw.
    Suddenly, he was not only resigned, he was downright thrilled at the prospect of plain regular sex with Raizy.  Plain!  Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have been thrilled with just that, for the rest of his life.
    But maybe getting married was a bit like being a tourist, newly-arrived in an exciting foreign land. 
    When you were a tourist, you were thrilled to arrive at the airport, but you didn’t just want to stay there.  You had to leave the airport, visit local museums, cultural spots, one or two famous landmarks. 
    And i f you found out you’d be staying in the airport the whole time, you might be just a tiny bit disappointed.
    Regular sex was maybe like staying in the airport, for his whole life.  But he didn’t want to sound ungrateful.  I will be happy with anything, Beryl decided.  With whatever she’s prepared to give me.
    There was Raizy’s key in the door.  Quick!   What should he do? 
    Actually, there wasn’t much left to do.  Before the phone call from Mr. Edelman, he’d already washed the dishes, swept, and made the bed, putting away the cot he’d been sleeping in for the last seven days.
    He’d wanted to make sure nothing would catch her eye b etween the front door and the bedroom.
    She came into the apartment and put her key on the shelf by the door.  Then, stood in front of him awkwardly.  This was the moment his rebbe had taught him about; surely, her rebbitzen had taught her what to say as well?
    “I have been to the mikveh ,” she said.  He exhaled at last.  Those were the words.  The niddah -pin, a delicate golden rose that she’d worn for the last week as a reminder, was gone now.  She was okay to touch.
    To grab.  To fuck.
    Slowly, Beryl, he told himself.  First, he had to coax her into the bedroom.
    “Are you thirsty?” he asked.  “Do you want some tea?”
    “I should be asking you,” she said.
    “No, no, I can get it.”
    “All right, thanks.”
    Beryl ran to the kitchen and filled the kettle, then stood waiting for it to boil.
    When the tea was ready, he carried it out to their new dining-room table.  Even though they’d been married more than a week, even though they’d even made love already, it was more awkward here than in the hotel room.
    Sometimes, he wished he really was an animal.  He’d been out in the country to visit his cousins’ farm:  imagine a bull waiting for the right moment to come up behind a cow, or a rooster serving tea to a chicken before he could fertilize her eggs.  Beryl smiled.
    “What is it?” Raizy asked.
    “Just thinking of something – a memory.”
    “Tell me,” she said.
    “Just – my cousins’ farm.  A happy memory.”
    “Looked like more of a funny memory than a happy one,” she said.  She stared deeply into his eyes, bolder than she had ever been in all their seven days of marriage.
    Was she suspicious?  Could she somehow have read his thoughts, or seen something on his face that revealed what he was thinking of.
    “Well, we always had a good time there.”
    That was all he would say.  And anyway, this was about so much more than fertilization.  And he was so much more than a chicken.
    Although, at the moment, he felt more cock than man.
    Eventually, the tea was