Ben Kodesh
an excerpt

3 May 2003
It came out of nowhere. I shoud have been ready, I mean, I know the order of the parshiyot and all that. But I wasn’t. I’d been floating through shacharit, only half paying attention really. Alon and I were going to have lunch together, just the two of us and I was getting hungry already. The torah reading had begun and I was just sitting there listening without hearing the words as I thought about what a great afternoon it was going to be. As I’d been walking to Shul with Alon I had enjoyed the first real spring day we’d had this year. I’d left my jacket at home, and despite the fact that there was still a bit of a chill in the air, it felt so good to finally be able to go out in just a light sweater. I was giddy, and couldn’t stop whistling to myself. Alon laughed at me when I stopped to talk to a squirrel that flicked his tail and bolted up the nearest tree in the instant I opened my mouth, but what did I care?
For the first time since we’d decided that since there was no mechitza to divide us that we would sit in opposite sides of the men’s section so that there would be enough people between us to make it impossible for us to be distracted by one another I found myself wishing he was sitting next to me. I was thinking how nice it would be to just feel his presence next to me when the words burst in as though they’d been piped directly into my brain: “Ve’ish asher yishkav et-zachar mishkavei isha—to’evah asu, shneyhem; mot yumatu, dmeyhem bam. And a man who lies with a man as with woman—they have committed an abomination, both of them; and they will surely be put to death, their blood will be upon them.”
Of course, I’d heard the words before and encountered that verse countless times before. I should have seen it coming, been prepared. But it came bursting in and turned all my happy thoughts to sin and death. I couldn’t help it, I felt as if I’d been punched in the chest and could only think that I needed to get outside and into fresh air, immediately. I saw myself slwoly get up, thankful I’d been sitting in the aisle and walking out into the front entrance hall, as though I’d just realized I needed to use the washroom casual as can be, while my blood pounded in my temples. I didn’t go the bathroom or down teh stairs to the kiddush club, I stopped briefly to fold and put away my tallit, and then walked out the door and began walking home.
Turning the corner, I heard shoes pounding the sidewalk and coming to a stop behind me. Without stopping or turning around I sighed, “Please, Ilana, just leave me alone.” I kept walking and the footsteps did not follow. I was crying and realizing that I was on a fairly busy street turned into the first alley and then started follwoing side streets to the lake. When I arrived the mist I had seen earlier had burned off and I sat down with my feet dangling over the retaining wall which was still wet with dew. I coudl feel it, cold through my pants and it crossed my mind that I might be ruining my new slacks, but I didn’t care. I’d used all the energy I had left to get there and there was nothing to be done except watch the waves gently lapping at the stones beneath the cloudless sky.
I don’t know how long I sat there. Two ducks swam by at one point and floated in front of me, expecting some bread crumbs, I assume. Eventually I looke dup again and noticed they were gone. Alon and I had agreed that mishkav zachar was not something that we were ever going to do, there was no question about that, but in that moment every nasty comment and hateful look had come pouring back to me. People back at Alon’s shul in Milwaukee had refused to talk to us, and even if nobody acted differently to our face here, I knew I wasn’t the only one that had thought of mine and Alon’s relationship when that pasuk was read. What would happen if we decided to live together? I’d always wanted kids and so did Alon. If we adopted, would they be teased at school? Would parents tell their kids not to play with them because of us? Would we always have to justify our relationship to people that would see us and think only that we were an abomination?
I never went to Alon’s for lunch. By the time I got home, the sun was already low on the horizon and I was regretting not having brought a coat in the morning. I should have anticipated the chill, thse early spring days were only illusions of warmth and they turned on you in a moment. I’d lived long enough in Chicago to know that. When I got home, I changed into PJs and crawled into bed. I had a stuffed bear that Alon had given me on Valentine’s day, but I couldn’t bear having it next to me and shoved it under the bed and then curled up in my comforter.
When I woke up, it was nearly midnight. I made havdalah and saw that I had voicemail on my phone. There was one message and as I pressed 3 on my phone and the message played, I heard Alon’s voice, “Matt, I tried to follow you but you made it clear you wanted to be by yourself. I hoped you would come to lunch, or mincha, or something. When you want to talk, I’m here, love.” If only he hadn’t said that last word, I might have called him back.