Chapter 26

Buoyed by mom’s and Ed’s acceptance of Elijah and my relationship, we tried to push the sour ending to my visit with dad and Alicia out of our minds as we made our way southward toward our next appointment with destiny that Friday afternoon.

Elijah pulled off the road and made his way toward the back of an obscure parking area.

“Phillip,” he said with a smile. “Phillip Ryan Johnson – my soulmate.”

We held hands and talked about the transformation we had witnessed in my parent’s home; then about our plans for the summer. We prayed together for just the second time, and asked our Heavenly Father to bless our time with Elijah’s parents as well.

Prayer is such an intimate thing. I’m not really sure how much talking to an invisible God changes the course of those around us. I think, more than that, prayer changes the pray-er. As I listened to my love humbly asking God, not for our wants and desires to be fulfilled, but for his will and purposed to be brought about in our lives, an even deeper sense of awe filled my heart for him.

We must have sat there in the car for an hour before Elijah finally took a shuddering breath and started the car engine.

“We can do this, bro. God will give us the strength we need.”

Elijah smiled weakly, squeezed my hand one last time, and put the car in gear.

“Come on, bar-David,” I said and reached across him to pull the door handle. “Let’s go meet them.”

I almost thought he wasn’t going to get out, as I stood beside his open door, waiting.

Elijah took a deep breath, forced a smile onto his face, and opened the front door to his parent’s house. Standing inside was his father. Although he was a much bigger man in stature than Elijah, I knew immediately who it was by the huge grin spreading across his face. No mistaking which side of the family my boyfriend got his smile from.

“Elijah, my son,” he said, and pulled him into a tight hug. “…and this is your friend? Goy?” he whispered.

Elijah nodded as Mr. Cohen shoved his hand at me.

“Phillip,” Elijah whispered back.

“Welcome to our modest abode, Mr. Phillip…?”

“Johnson, sir.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Yeled[1],” called a lusty female voice from the next room. “Is that you? Come, come, and give ‘em[2] a kiss. You’re early she scolded. I didn’t expect you one minute before sunset, but since you’re early, you can join us at synagogue.”

As Elijah made his way through the house, toward his mother’s voice, I began to follow, but immediately, a hand caught my arm and pulled me back.

“Shalom, Phillip,” he said as he blocked my path, and pulled me forward, kissing both my cheeks. “Wait here,” he told me, looking stealthily to both sides and then slipping into the next room.

I looked around the foyer and saw a picture hanging on the wall of a young Jewish boy, a black, broad brimmed hat on his head, his hair cut short in back, and the curly locks in front of his ears hanging down almost to his chin. Thin strips of leather were laced around both his forearms, and it looked as if he had some sort of small leather box tied to his forehead.

“That’s Elijah at his bar mitzvah,” Mr. Cohen said as he walked up behind me.

The voice startled me, and I turned around to see that Mr. Cohen held a yarmulke in his hand.

“Here,” he whispered as he slipped it into my hand. “If you don’t mind wearing this, you’ll avoid more grief from the missus than you want to have. Oh, and nod yes when she talks to you.”

Mrs. Cohen began calling from the kitchen.

“David, come and greet your son. David!”

“Oi vey, what a wonderful thing Hashem has given to me,” he said, looking toward the ceiling. “Reza, you think I’ve gone deaf since this morning? I’ve already greeted him, and it is you who haven’t even greeted his friend. What kind of mother are you, anyway?”

Within seconds, Mrs. Cohen appeared out of the kitchen and made her way toward me, Elijah close behind her.

“So this is him, Elijah? This is your friend, Phillip? What kind of name is that? Phillip who? He hasn’t got a good last name? …he must be reformed then.”

“Karpinski,” Elijah’s father blurted out before I could answer her question. His father is Ezekiel Karpinski, and I already asked him – he’s orthodox.” Elijah’s mom looked me up and down like she wasn’t buying what he was saying. “Okay so maybe he’s a little bit Reformed. …but he’s Conservative-Reformed. …and don’t go trying to impress him with all that gobbldy-gook of yours, I already found out he doesn’t know much Hebrew. Oi vey, Reza, what this world is coming to: Mothers who don’t teach their children how to speak Hashem’s own tongue.”

I was trying to not look too surprised at who I had suddenly become, but the gleam in Mr. Cohen’s eyes, and his quick wink helped me to heed his advice and remain silent.

“Put his things in your room, Elijah, he’ll have to sleep with you.”

“Ah-h-h, Mom, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll sleep in Sarah’s bed tonight. Ah-h-h, Phillip snores, and I’m afraid he’ll keep me up all night.”

“And where will your sister sleep? In the garage?”

“She’s home?”

“She brought that lazy bag of bones, Mordecai Hillier to meet us. He’ll be the death of me, too. I caught him trying to sneak into her room last night. Such outrageous behavior.”

“Maybe I’ll sleep on the sofa, then.”

“And leave your friend to sleep with a stranger, Elijah?  What’s wrong with you? Sarah’s friend will sleep on the sofa.”

Elijah’s face grew tense. I could tell he was struggling with whether or not he should come right out and tell them. He decided against it.

“Dad only says you’re Orthodox to keep mom happy,” Elijah whispered in my ear as we pulled into the parking lot of the Beth David Reformed Congregation.

We quickly found a seat near the back, as the service had already begun. Not understanding the scripture being read in Hebrew, I fell into reading through the congregation’s mission statement.

“Look at this,” I whispered as I tapped Elijah’s arm to get his attention.

“Many of our members are interfaith couples who are committed to establishing a Jewish home, and the non-Jewish spouse is welcome at all synagogue events as a part of our community. We also welcome gay and lesbian members interested in joining us.”

“Maybe telling them won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Dad’ll probably throw a fit for mom’s sake, but I think I can get him to understand. It’s mom that’ll probably throw us both out of the house. She only comes to the Reformed synagogue because there aren’t any Orthodox congregations close by. ”

“He already put a yarmulke on my head and told your mom my name’s Karpinski to keep the peace, maybe he’ll force her to accept us.”

“My mom doesn’t accept anything she thinks goes against Hashem’s will. She may endure it, but she’ll also make sure everyone knows her views on the subject.”

After the service, Elijah introduced me to Rabbi Stern as his friend from college, Phillip Johnson. His mother was talking to someone ten feet away, but as soon as we shook his hand and finished trading pleasantries, she made a beeline toward us.

“I heard you telling the Rabbi your friend’s name is Johnson. Goy! What’s the meaning of bringing your gentile friend to stay in our home – let alone on the Sabbath?”

“Mom, don’t make a scene here.”

“Who’s making a scene?” she said in a crisp voice, loud enough that many heads turned. “We’ll talk before we get back to the house.”

“Fine,” Elijah retorted as he pulled the program from my back pocket, opened it to the section addressed to ‘Perspective Members,’ and showed it to her. “If he’s welcome here, then you have no right to tell me that he can’t stay in our home.”

It was unfortunate Elijah had forgotten I had underlined the section about welcoming gay and lesbian members, because when he shoved the paper in front of her eyes to show her that non-Jewish people were welcome, she thought he was showing her the part I had underlined.

“He’s homosexual, Elijah? I’m going to be sick. David, come and talk with this son of yours.”

By now, I felt every eye that was in the narthex of the synagogue, staring.

“Reza, can’t this wait until we get home? I swear you will be the death of me.”

“No, this cannot wait until we get home.”

Elijah’s dad rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Your son’s friend not only lied about his name so we’d think he was family, but he’s a homosexual, too.”

“Reza, hold your tongue. I know this boy’s father. He’s Ezra Karpinski”

“And where does Ezra Karpinski live?”

Elijah’s dad knew he was had, but he didn’t give up easily. “…up there somewhere,” he exasperatedly said pointing northward, and pulling her toward the door.

I watched as Sarah and Mordecai made their way to where we were standing, rolling their eyes, and wagging their head as they walked.

“Bus-ted,” Sarah said in a cherubic voice, as we all made our way outside together and headed to where their parents were heatedly “discussing” the matter.

“…I distinctly remember you telling me he was bar-Ezekiel. Now you are telling me his name is bar-Ezra?”

“You’re hearing voices in your head, woman.”

I heard Elijah telling Rabbi Stern his friend’s name is Johnson – Goy!” she added tersely.

“That’s obviously his mother’s name. I’m telling you Reza his name is Karpinski.”

“Dad,” Elijah interrupted, “Thanks, for trying to help, but I didn’t think mom would like it if she found out my friend’s name was Johnson, so that’s why I told you his name is Karpinski.”

Elijah’s dad raised his eyebrows, and simply said “Oi vey.”

“Oi vey?” Reza squawked, “Your own son disgraces Hashem by pretending his pervert of a friend is family, and that’s all you can say?”

She stood and watched him.

“He’s of age, woman, let him stand before Adonai and give account. He’s still our son.”

We were standing there in silence, Reza glaring alternately between Elijah, David, and occasionally me, when Sarah, evidently not satisfied that the fireworks had ended, added her two cents to the conversation. “Aren’t you going to tell them the rest, Elijah?”

Elijah glared at her for a brief moment. “Sure sis, I’d be glad to tell her the rest.” He reached out and took my hand in his as he spoke. “The only difference between me and Sarah is that she sleeps with her boyfriend and I don’t.”

Evidently not noticing our interlaced fingers, she asked “You have a girlfriend, yeled?” and then rattled off something in Hebrew.

“No mom, I have a boyfriend. His name is Phillip Johnson,” he told her as he lifted our hands for her to see. “…and he believes in Hashem.”

Reza suddenly stopped looking angry, and began to tremble, looking like she was going to faint. The mission statement paper fell to the ground as she continued spitting fire in Hebrew, and walked away.

We watched as she threw her head onto the shoulder of another woman, and wailed, then got into the woman’s car and drove off with her.

Sitting in the Cohen living room, we could see her sitting in her friend’s car, making no attempt at coming into the house. It was ten-thirty when Mr. Cohen finally picked up his cell phone, punched a number into it, and held it to his ears.

“Reza, he commanded, “Enough of this. Come into the house.”

We could hear her animated voice clearly as she rattled off something that I couldn’t follow, but that Elijah obviously did.

“Enough! David interrupted. “You’re embarrassing yourself, and me, and your son, Reza. Please come into the house.”

We listened to a few more words, and then Mr. Cohen folded the phone and laid it down.

Elijah quietly got up and left the room for a moment, before returning with both of our bags in hand.

“Elijah,” his dad pleaded.

“No dad, she lives here. This is no longer my home. The scriptures say a man must leave his father and mother and cling to the one Hashem has given to him.”

“Elijah,” he pleaded on last time as we walked out the door and got into his car.

I called my mom to ask her to leave the door unlocked, and that I didn’t know what time we would arrive.

We stopped for coffee, but didn’t say much to each other.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning when we pulled into the driveway of my parent’s home.

“One for three isn’t too bad if you’re playing baseball,” I kidded before we got out of the car.