Chapter Twenty-Four
TWENTY-FOUR
Greg stared down at his half-eaten plate of hot wings. He had been at Hacksaws Bar & Grill for over three hours, and aside from a serious case of indigestion, he had not garnered much. He had no new information regarding The Paper Boys. He had done his best to talk to folks at the bar. He had even made conversation—sometimes awkwardly—in the men’s restroom.
He had a sense upon arrival that Hacksaws would be a bust. Clearly a family establishment, with kids shoved into booths and chocolate cake sundaes bearing birthday candles, it was not the type of place where one could easily muse with friends about committing a hate crime. By midnight, the place was shut down. Greg paid for his wings and took off, choosing to walk home over taking a cab.
He needed the long walk to clear his head. But even with the fresh air, he still felt off. His mind returned to Faye as he replayed snippets of her inside his mind. The way she tasted. The way she felt under his hands—the way she had wanted him to make love to her—before she completely shut him out. All he wanted to do now was make things right by her. The problem was, as he stepped into Magic Mud Pottery, nothing was normal.
Faye was home, but instead of greeting him, she was in her bedroom upstairs—the door closed, a light peeking out from underneath it. He told himself it was a blessing in disguise, and used Faye’s disappearing act to hide the burner phone, cash, and ID that Nelly had given him at the bottom of a wicker basket by his bed. And then, not wanting to leave things unsaid, he headed to her door to speak with her.
It was panic.
Sitting in her bedroom with the door locked and a chair moved in front of it, she stared at that golem doll on the bureau across from her. Covered in a layer of soil, words etched haphazardly all over its body, its dead eyes—two horrifying little O’s—stared back at her, unblinking. It was so unbelievably creepy. She couldn’t believe she had ever found the damn thing comforting.
All she wanted to do was throw it in the kiln downstairs and burn it alive. Smash it into a thousand pieces with a hammer. She even considered calling Shulamit and begging her to bury it in a genizah somewhere... But as much as she wanted to destroy the thing outright, she was afraid that doing so would lead to bigger problems down the line.
She debated calling her friends—Eric, too—but who the hell would believe her? They would claim she was delusional. Or worse. Point to her own broken nature, her own baggage, the things she made up in her mind. But this wasn’t like her mother, prone to fantastical delusions, believing her own worst fears were coming to fruition—this was reality. Her reality. She needed someone who would help without judging her.
She needed an expert opinion.
She scrambled to find her phone and was opening the AI research assistant when a knock on her door caused Faye to jump. She threw her cell down, caught. Her entire body froze as she waited, staring at her door, praying that the lock was enough to keep a soulless clay man walking around in a person costume from entering.
“Hey, Faye,” Greg said quietly. Gently. “You up?”
Faye pressed her lips together and said nothing. Maybe, if she stayed quiet long enough, he would think she was sleeping and go away. She heard the squeak of the hallway outside, and thinking he was leaving, breathed a sigh of relief.
“I know you’re up, Faye,” Greg said.
“I’m not,” she shouted back.
“Your light is on,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
Great.
Next time, she was going to craft a less aware golem.
“Can we talk?” Gregolem asked through the door. “Just for a minute. I just... I want to apologize for what happened.”
Unbelievable. Gregolem was, once again, saying all the right things, being sweet and adorable...and it made her heart ache. It broke her into ten thousand pieces because there was some part of her, like the part that had created him, that still wanted him. Someone she could love—who would love her in return, unconditionally—and who wouldn’t betray that space in her heart by leaving her.
But then, she reminded herself that Gregolem wasn’t real. She had created this thing now living in her house with words, clay, and magic. More important, her AI chatbot had confirmed the worst of the stories she had heard in her youth. Golems were dangerous. They always eventually freaked out, destroying the very communities they were meant to protect, killing their creators in the process. Perseus approaching her shores with his cap of invisibility and his shield made of mirrors.
“Faye,” Greg whined outside her door.
“What?”
“Please,” he said, again. “It will only take a minute.”
She rose in a huff, heading to the door, opening it just an inch so that her Gregolem doll, still sitting on the bureau, wouldn’t be visible.
“Yes?” Faye asked.
“I just wanted to talk—” Gregolem squinted, his thoughts interrupted. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Faye said confidently.
His eyes rolled down her body. “You’re covered in dirt.”
Faye glanced down. In her panic, she had forgotten that she had spent thirty minutes digging up her garden.
She feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve also got—” Greg pointed at his own head “—a dead rose, or something, in your hair.”
She went to find it, feeling a small dried-up bud sitting at the top of her curls. Pulling it down, tossing it to the ground, she huffed, and pretended it was totally normal.
“Were you doing a ritual?” Greg asked.
“What?”
“While I was out,” Greg said curiously.
It felt like an accusation.
There also wasn’t a chance in hell that she was ever going to tell Greg the truth about his existence. After all, she couldn’t very well tell the golem that he was a golem. He could freak out, go on a rampage, killing everyone in Woodstock. He had already broken her damn heart. Next step was cutting off her head completely.
“Is there something I can help you with, Greg?”
“Right.” Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. I’m sorry that... I let myself get carried away. But I wanted you to know that it won’t happen again. Regardless of how I feel... I understand why we can’t act on these feelings. And I’m sorry. You’ve been good to me, too good...and you deserve a person who can be with you, honestly and fully. Where you don’t have to worry that one day he’s going to leave you.”
Her mind wandered with his words. Her body responded, too. Because seeing him there, his gentle voice speaking so sweetly, she wanted him to be real. But like his perfect, impeccably carved body—too many green flags always equaled red.
“It’s fine, Greg,” Faye said quickly.
“You sure?”
“Of course.” She forced a smile, lying through her teeth. “And you’re right. We can’t let this happen again. You’re, obviously , a human being with a past...with family out there that loves you. Even though, no matter what we do, you can’t remember.” Her words came out high-pitched. “But still, clearly , a human being!”
“Okay...”
“Human,” she repeated, nodding her head up and down extremely slowly. “Yep! Total flesh and blood, right there.”
He shifted on the balls of his feet, the floor making groaning noises beneath his weight. “Well, since we’re both up then—” he glanced once down the hall “—would you like to play Scrabble?”
Un-freaking-believable.
No, she did not want to play Scrabble with a golem.
No wonder he always won.
“Not tonight,” she said, and moved to shut the door.
“Or, if you’re hungry,” he said quickly, attempting to keep the conversation going, “I can make you a plate of hard kosher—”
“Greg,” Faye interrupted him. “All I want to do is go to sleep, okay?” And then, just so he would get the full gist of her meaning, she added one word. “Alone.”
The floorboards stopped squeaking beneath his feet. His entire face— his beautiful, sweet face, the face she had come to know and trust —morphed into sadness. In truth, seeing his upset awoke the same inside of her. Yes, there was a part of her that wanted to believe what she had created, what they were experiencing together, could remain good. Stable. But she had already made that wish with Stuart...and look where it had gotten her.
“Alright,” Greg said softly. “Well, I appreciate you opening the door to talk to me.”
“Of course.”
“We’re still friends, right?” He held up one hand, displaying the bracelet still knotted on his wrist.
She looked away from him. “Friends,” she repeated. “Definitely.”
Satisfied by her promise that things would go back to normal between them, Greg departed back down the hall.
Faye closed the door, locking it behind her, before dragging her chair, the mirror, the laundry basket, and part of her nightstand in front of it. Grabbing that creepy-ass golem doll off the bureau, she hid it in the very deepest recesses of her closet, behind a pile of old clothing, before returning to the safety of her bed. Turning off the light, raising her covers above her head, she opened the AI and typed her question out: How do I get rid of a golem?
The AI began to scroll: In Jewish folklore, the golem is an anthropomorphic creature made from clay and mud, designed to serve the will of their creator. However, in many stories, the creator eventually loses control of the golem. As the golem begins to act on its own accord, it becomes dangerous. Some methods for destroying a golem are to satiate the golem, dismantle the golem, or give the golem an impossible task.
Faye committed those words to memory. Her resolve so strong, her intention so fiercely focused, that she almost missed the last sentence as it appeared on the bottom of her screen: It is worth remembering that the golem is a fictional creature, and that none of these techniques should ever be attempted in real life.