Track 7 Delilah #3
The words settle between them, the only sound the crackling of the fire, the whistling of the wind through the nearby trees, the distant murmurs and laughter of the other campers.
Delilah swallows, feeling unexpectedly off-balance.
It’s not like she’s never heard a version of this story before.
Her maternal grandmother’s study had books of illustrated Jewish folktales in among her shelves of classics and poetry and feminist theory, and Delilah has memories of curling up with her to read them, following the story by looking at the pictures when Grandma Batya read in Yiddish, closing her eyes and just listening when she read in English.
But hearing Emmett tell the story feels different. Like she hasn’t been listening to an allegory or a fairy tale, but something real. Something true.
She clears her throat. “I thought the story ended with the golem going on a rampage. Or breaking the rules of the sabbath and having to be put down.”
Emmett’s eyes are unreadable, the moon above them cutting through the golden firelight and making the gray of their irises shine almost silver. “There are many endings,” they agree. “That was the version I was told.” They hesitate, then say, “I think that this version is kinder.”
“You think the golem in the story would have gotten violent if the rabbi hadn’t put him down?”
“ ‘It,’ ” Emmett corrects her, almost absently. “And—no. I don’t know. But I’ve always thought that…that it’s better for something to end before it can become a perversion of what it was made for. No creature created to protect would want to become a monster.”
“It might not have, though,” Delilah points out. “It could have been fine. And gone on…I don’t know, playing with kids and carrying groceries for little old ladies and letting nerdy guys study it for fun instead of getting jobs or helping their wives cook dinner.”
Emmett hums. “Maybe. I suppose that would be an even kinder ending.”
Delilah nudges their foot again. “Well, tell it with that ending next time,” she says. “Give it options other than monstrosity or death, no matter who says it’s going to turn dangerous. It deserved a chance to decide for itself.”
Emmett opens their mouth to reply, and then laughs, shaking their head. “All right,” they say. “Next time I will tell it that way.”
“Good.” Delilah still feels off-balance somehow, like she’s said something unintentionally important. But Emmett’s expression is easy and open, not closed off or pinched the way Sam’s face used to be when she was pretending something wasn’t bothering her.
Delilah makes a show of checking the time on her phone and is genuinely surprised to see how late it is. “Jesus, it’s late. We should probably turn in.”
Emmett nods. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re sure you’ll be okay out here? It’s not that warm.”
“I’ll be fine,” Emmett says, firmly enough that Delilah takes the hint and doesn’t press. “The fire will keep going awhile longer, and I still have the rest of the wood if I need it.”
“Okay, well…if you decide you’re freezing, you can knock or whatever. You can crash on the floor.”
Emmett looks amused. “I probably won’t do that,” they say, not unkindly. “But thank you for offering.”
Something about the way they say it almost makes Delilah feel rejected.
Stop that, she thinks as she gets to her feet.
The last thing she should be doing is thinking about sleeping with somebody, no matter how much of a confidence boost it might be.
Then again, if Emmett did start acting like they wanted to sleep with her, she’d probably have to ditch them on the side of the road and take the entire situation to her grave if she wanted to avoid the inevitable chorus of I told you so’s from her mother and manager and therapist and best friend and anyone else who ever learned about it.
Still, after everything that’s happened, she can’t deny that it might have been nice to feel wanted, no matter how bad an idea it might be. “If you say so,” she says. She gathers up the mostly empty bottle of wine and both their empty glasses, then pauses. “Emmett?”
Emmett stops halfway through unrolling their new sleeping bag to look up at her. Their face, in the firelight, is very gentle and utterly without judgment. “Delilah?”
“Thank you,” she says, before she can lose her nerve. “For coming with me. I’m glad you’re here.”
Emmett looks briefly surprised, and then their expression softens into something warm and sincere. “I am too,” they say quietly. “Good night, Delilah.”
She turns back to Roscoe and climbs into the van. When she slides the door closed, leaving Emmett on the other side, she tells herself it’s for her own good.
Text message from: Ruth Stein
Are you still on the bus? Is your butt asleep?
Text message from: Ruth Stein
Wait, can your butt even fall asleep?
Text message from: Ruth Stein
Sorry. Was that insensitive? I don’t really know how this is supposed to work.
Text message from: Ruth Stein
I tried talking to Noah. He’s still being shitty. I think he misses you, though. You were always best at talking to him.
Text message to: Ruth Stein
I’m not on the bus but I’m okay.
[message not sent]
Text message to: Ruth Stein
What does a butt falling asleep feel like?
[message not sent]
Text message to: Ruth Stein
I miss Noah. I miss all of you.
[message not sent]