Choking On Sapphires

67 More Than Words

Alfie had been wondering about the next move to make in your relationship. Although it was easy to forget at times he wasn't actually married to you already. He mulled over the possibilities when he was alone. The when's, the where's, the how's and what he would do. He couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to use a ring or some other grand gesture of a gift. He wanted you to be his, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wait until after you became bat mitzvah, or if he should speak to a Rabbi about the whole thing. What a confusing process it was all turning out to be. He had plenty to consider and wanted to make the offering of his hand to be something he found worthy of you. Which was proving difficult.

You had been keeping your nose in books on Hebrew and Judaism, reading your new religious studies books, in your little glasses when he would come to your home late at night. He watched you learn the passages, the stack of books on your desk growing by the week. He'd come over for Shabbat and watched you light the candles, do the readings and break the Challah you'd baked yourself. He could see a change in you, and although you would behave as normal outside your home, your business dealings still having to be ruthless and cruel at times, you always left it outside your home. You were softer, kinder and watching you become something that was forbidden to you until now was a period of growth he was blessed to be able to witness.

Your growth and dedication had touched him. When he had read of your charitable doings over the span of your separation, he had taken the time to reflect on what he was currently giving. This led to a rise in his donations and allowing himself the time to be more personal with those that he knew needed his help. Friends, distant relatives, wives and children of good Jewish men he'd known, he gave more attention to. Anyone could sign a check for something, but your hands on nature with the children at the home and your teaching of art with the young women had shown him that the money wasn't enough. He should be better, he should remember where he came from.

Your commitment and hunger for knowledge had led him to sit and read with you, or to you some evenings. With Passover fast approaching he knew you were nervous. Such an important event and it being something you felt responsible for now was making you too over critical of yourself. Would you be ready for Seder? Would you have the have the right food, wine, and preparation for it all? Did you know the prayers, the blessings, the questions, and songs? You were a bundle of nerves and Alfie sat by and gruffed at you to not worry about it so much. After studying more you felt more prepared, but as it always did, you had deeper more complex worries arise as to were you doing enough? Were you kind enough? Giving enough? An onslaught of heavy questions would pour down upon you and you would try to drown them with wine and Alfie would be there to remind you that you were in fact good enough. He would remind you of Esther and how violence has its places when it protects your people. And that was what you were doing now, facing a cold modern world with all the tools you had to carve out a safe place for yourself and others. He took you to a festival for Purim and the revelry and readings helped to set our mind at ease. But soon after the calm from the festivities passed, Seder anxieties reared their heads again and Alfie had found the perfect solution.

You sit in bed together, both in your night clothes, tucked under his arm as he read to you in Hebrew, little gold glasses adorning both your faces as you tried to concentrate on the pronunciations. He was waiting for you to voice your worry about Seder, as he knew it would come. In these moments of new found intimacy between the two of you, he was reminded of his father, reading and teaching him and his siblings when they were young. He's reading mindlessly, wondering if he too would be reading and teaching children of his own one day when your mouth opens to give him his opportunity to soothe you.

"I would share the lamb with the house, but you aren't supposed to share with servants. But they aren't really servants, are they? They're paid and I know them and care for them, pay for their educations and manage their needs. They're more like friends. But I don't want to be inappropriate. It'd all have to be eaten that night and I can't waste it and-"