A Vindication Of Miss Everlee

Chapter 7

"You'll be late!"

"I won't be late. I promise that I'll run,"

"It's almost sunset,"

"I won't be late if you let me go now,"

With a little reluctance, his mother let him go after the others' insistence that he would never risk missing the Sabbath, despite her being nervous at the paling of the world. Sensing agitation, he kissed her briefly on the cheek and thrust open the door to rush through the streets. As he did, those who were coming home, or leaning out of their windows to clean the panes, waved at him and said, "Good Sabbath, Gideon!" and, "You'll be late if you don't hurry up!"

He responded as he could, with a gasping voice and a smile, though he was in such a hurry that he doubted anyone noticed. He went even further as he ventured out of his usual streets. There was a short cut to his destination, one he normally avoided by simply winding through the streets he was familiar with. However, sensing the sun beating downwards behind him, he took a deep breath and rushed out into the other side.

As usual on Shabbat, there were adolescents and children lingering about the end of the streets in the unfamiliar territory, waiting for any Jews who might venture out. When Gideon rushed into view, they bent down to the ground and scooped up the earth into their hands. As he passed, though he did so quickly, he felt the sting of gravel stones pounding on his back and trickling down. Their dust gathered on his sleeves. He heard their laughs but was unshaken, having become used to such a ritual ever since he first stepped out from their side.

Fortunately, it wasn't very often they came into the Jewish side to aggravate them. They would just wait. Whenever they did venture, the Jews could tell the mood was bad. "They clobbered down my door this morning," someone would mutter, "I wonder what's upsetting them this time!"

"It'll be the taxes," a voice would pitch in wisely.

"No, I'm sure it's the youngsters complaining about the public health," someone else would intervene. It was a fun game, guessing what ailed them enough to bring them over to their few streets. It got them through being the receiver of their discontent.

When he reached the crumbling little shop at the edge of the far street, he thrust his weight onto the door and heard the bell jangling in response. The shop itself was deserted, left only with its piles of books and crockery and rings and anything else which one could hold with ease. Their reflection had died in the windows which surrounded them.

With his entrance, someone emerged from the corridor at the end. "Gideon! What do you mean by coming at this hour? It's almost Shabbat," said the woman.

"I'm sorry! I just have to drop off this book. I borrowed it from Reb Motel and promised him I would return it before Shabbat but I completely forgot," he said breathlessly.

He handed her the book and turned around to leave, but she said, "If you're worried you'll be late, stay with us for dinner. It'll be another blessing,"

"Thank you, but I believe I can make it back. Good Sabbath!" he said, before diving out of the door and running back home. His legs were aching and his arms grew sore with all their swinging, but the continued presence of the stone-throwers acted as an incentive to keep his pace brisk. By the time he got back into the Jewish streets, there was nobody walking home or leaning out of the windows. Everyone was inside readying themselves. And, just in the nick of time, he joined his mother.

Shaina shook his head at him as he slid over the threshold, his skin now gleaming scarlet and his breath as sharp as bitter lemon. However, he offered a timid apology and washed himself in the basin as quickly as he could. His hair was still dripping a little as he changed his shirt and placed on his kippah and prayer shawl. "I'm not late," he pointed out.