Chapter Thirty-Eight
THIRTY-EIGHT
Greg scanned the crowd. Faye was sitting at a table, her entire body pressed in his direction, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was exactly as he remembered.
A bell rang out. All the men at the tables stood and quickly shifted to another seat. Shulamit ran over to him. “Thank God,” she said, attaching the number eighteen to his chest. “You made it.”
“I wasn’t sure with all the snow,” Greg explained. “But I found a way.”
Miranda smacked him on the chest. “That’s the spirit.”
“Hurry,” Shulamit said, pushing him forward. “You only get five minutes.”
He nodded. It was a short walk to the table where Faye was waiting, but an old man in a puffy jacket was trying to get there first.
“Sorry,” Greg said, trying to be polite, “but if you don’t mind—”
The old man stuck one finger behind his ear. “What?” he shouted. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Greg attempted to shout back, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to take this seat.”
“What? You’d like to have sex?” He shook his head at the offer. “Sorry. You’re not my type.”
Greg glanced down to see Faye hiding a smile behind one hand. All of a sudden, the old man slapped him on the arm. “Ha!” he laughed. “I’m just kidding.”
“Very funny, Ruben,” Faye said.
Ruben leaned into Greg, whispering, “I’m only here for the little one, anyway.” He turned towards Faye, offering her a tiny salute. “Thanks for the heads-up, too.”
“Of course,” Faye said, her chin folded into her palm. “Good luck.”
With that, the old man adjusted the belt of his pants and skipped his way over to Nelly.
Finally, Greg and Faye were alone. This was his chance. He slid down in the seat across from her. Another bell rang out. Shulamit raced back to her microphone. “Five minutes,” she said. “Starting now.”
There wasn’t any more time for hesitation.
“Faye,” Greg said suddenly.
She pointed to the sticker on her chest. “Number Three.”
“Right,” Greg said, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you, Number Three. I’m Number Eighteen.”
“Nice to meet you, Eighteen.”
It made sense to begin this way. They were starting over, after all, meeting for the first time as their full and truthful selves. Despite all they had experienced in their past together, it was only the present that mattered.
“So,” Faye said, “tell me a little bit about you, Number Eighteen. What do you do for a living?”
“Believe it or not,” Greg said, relieved to be able to introduce himself properly, “I’m an investigative journalist. I go undercover to various places and locations...and attempt to uncover the truth.”
“That sounds very exciting,” she said, before adding, “Also a little bit dangerous.”
“It can be,” he admitted. “But I do it because I believe that truth should be pursued, and that stories can change the world. My mother always used to say, justice, justice, you shall pursue .”
“Your mother?”
“She was a JAG military lawyer...so justice was very important to her.”
“Your mother was in the military?”
He nodded. “Whole life, up until she retired. We moved every three years as kids. I suppose you could say she instilled both a sense of righteousness and adventure in me. I didn’t want to go into the military myself, but I’ve spent a lot of time attached to units while doing investigations. And, obviously, I’ve had a good deal of training to do the more difficult and physical work.”
She angled her chin. “That actually makes so much sense.”
He nodded. “Good.”
The table drifted back into silence.
“And what about you?” he asked, wanting to hear her story.
“Me?” Faye said, returning to her role as Suitor Number Three. “I’m a ceramicist. I own my store right in downtown Woodstock.”
“Wait a minute.” Greg leaned in dramatically. “You mean that amazing little pottery store right in the middle of town? The one they call Magic Mud Pottery?”
Faye laughed. “That’s the one.”
“I’ve always—” Greg swallowed. “I’ve always wanted to check that place out. Maybe take a class there, too.”
“We’re registering for our spring session right now.”
“Spring,” he mused thoughtfully. “I think I can make that happen.”
“Well, then...we look forward to seeing you.”
One side of her lips ticked upward into a soft smile before her eyes drifted down to his wrist.
“That’s an interesting bracelet,” she said quietly.
“Actually, a good friend gave it to me.”
“A good friend?” she inquired curiously.
“It was kind of a complicated situation.”
She laughed. “I know about complicated.”
He inched closer to her. “The truth is,” Greg continued, “I really liked her, but I also couldn’t pursue those feelings...because I didn’t really know who I was at the time.”
“That does sound difficult.”
“But she was, and still is, one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met. She’s got this fiercely independent streak, but she’ll put her whole life on hold to help someone in need. She’s also this incredibly talented artist. And writer, it turns out. She doesn’t just believe in magic...she is magic.”
“She sounds lovely,” Faye said.
“She is,” Greg said, meeting her eyes directly. “And that’s why I’m still wearing this bracelet. Even though things didn’t work out between us, I feel really honored that I got to spend a few weeks of my life with her. I got to see the world through her eyes, and whether she knows it or not...that experience with her changed me for the better.”
“For the better?”
“I think I had trouble committing before I met her, and her friends. I think, because of the way I was raised, always moving around and not really ever being able to establish roots... I just followed that pattern. But being with her made me reevaluate those aspects of myself that I took for granted.”
Faye cleared her throat. “I had a similar experience once. I had this friend. He was one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. He was incredibly smart. He read all my books...which really, when I think about it today, is its own special and unique type of love language. He was this huge behemoth of a man, but he had the gentlest spirit. He was always so open to experiencing the world beside me...whether it was hanging out with my friends and eating hard kosher salami, being willing to explore my spiritual beliefs, or playing Scrabble—”
“Scrabble?” Greg interrupted. “I love Scrabble.”
“Me, too.” Faye laughed. “He was really good at Scrabble,” she said, her eyes dipping downward. “He was also just...an extremely special human being. Caring and protective. And I needed a friend like him. He taught me a lot about accepting myself. He taught me to believe that I was worthy of good things. Whether he knows it or not, our friendship—the time we spent together—changed me, as well.”
Greg found it difficult to continue. “It sounds like,” he said, clearing his throat, “we both had friends who appeared at a time when we most needed them.”
Faye met his eyes directly. “The universe has a tendency to do that.”
“Baruch Hashem and Blessed Be.”
He was caught in her gaze, and they lingered like that—the world disappearing around them—before finally, she wiped one tear away from her cheek.
“So,” Greg wondered aloud, “speed dating?”
Faye arched one eyebrow up. “Truly, the very best way to get to know someone.”
“I’m not sure,” Greg mused playfully. “I heard that slamming into them with your bike, giving someone amnesia, then bringing them home during a series of anti-Semitic attacks works wonders in finding true love.”
“I barely even know you, Gregolem.”
“Gregolem, huh?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
“Well, in case you were wondering, you can pour mud on my groin any day.”
Faye defended herself. “If you must know, I was placing on the ten sefirot of the Kabbalah. Very accurate in banishing a soulless Jewish demon back to whatever unformed and messy void he came from.”
“Unless he has a soul.” Greg felt the need to point this out. “Then you’re just dumping mud on someone’s genitals.”
“True,” she teased him back, “but if we are slinging mud here, I think it’s important to note that all the things you were doing—running around with Nelly to stop The Paper Boys, hunting down anti-Semites, attempting to bring them to justice—was, in fact, very golem-like.”
Greg laughed. “Fair point.”
The table fell into silence once more, their eyes latching, their hands drifting closer and closer as each second ticked by.
“And you?” Faye asked. “What brings you to speed dating tonight?”
“Well,” he said, shifting in his seat, “to tell you the truth, I’m actually new to the area.”
Faye blinked. “Wait... What?”
“The thing is,” he said, very casual, “like I said, I’m an investigative reporter, so I travel a lot. I’ve been keeping an apartment in New York, but rent is expensive, and I don’t know, maybe I’m getting old...all that noise and congestion. It’s hard to write an article with the constant honking of horns.”
Faye laughed, disbelieving. “Come on?”
“I’m serious,” he said, laying down facts for her. “I had visited Woodstock a while back, and what can I say? I totally fell in love with the woods, the people...the community. Plus, there was this nice old lady willing to give me a deal.”
“No...” Faye said.
Her mouth agape, Faye twisted with her whole body in the direction of Nelly. The old woman responded with a knowing grin and two thumbs-up. From there, her eyes darted to Miranda and Shulamit, until finally Faye put it together. Yes, her friends—her coven of chosen family—had worked their magic on his behalf. Clearly, they were rooting for this Jewitch and golem to have a happy ending.
“I just moved in this morning,” Greg said.
“No...”
She kept saying that.
Greg had to fully bite back a smile.
“Truthfully,” he explained, “it’s a win-win for both of us. I can continue feeling out Woodstock, seeing if it’s a place where I want to lay down roots, save a ton of money in the process, and she can have someone help around the house with any miscellaneous chores. Plus, just based on some past experiences with her... I can’t help but think she’ll be helpful in any upcoming investigations I take on.”
Faye laughed aloud at that one. The table quieted once more, before she pushed a curl behind one ear. “I’m actually really glad to hear that you’re moving in with Nelly. Beyond the fact that you seem like an interesting guy—” her eyes flicked upwards “—I happen to know Nelly. She’s a good friend of mine. Almost a second mother. And I’ve been worried about her. Ever since her husband died, she’s been living in that big house all alone. Plus, her hip has been acting up.”
“Good thing I’ve been told I have a very protective nature,” Greg said playfully. Faye rolled both eyes to the ceiling, while Greg continued playing coy. “Like I said, she’s an old lady. A little eccentric. Her basement is also all types of weird...but I’m gonna help her renovate it back to some sort of livable space. And I’m happy with the choice I’ve made. Even if it doesn’t work out—” It was important he explain this part to her. “Even if it turns out that Woodstock is not the place for me, and I decide to go back to Manhattan—I needed to make this change. Actually, I’ve started going to therapy to help me break some of my own negative self-beliefs and patterns.”
“You have?”
“I’ve read a lot of self-help books,” he explained. “And now that I can really analyze what hasn’t been serving me, I see where I would like to make changes. So, I guess what I’m trying to do here...is put down some roots. Still be the guy who pursues justice and enjoys adventures, but also has a home, people who love him and miss him when he’s gone...people he loves and misses, too.”
Faye nodded. “I can understand that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “I’ve started therapy, too—and one of the things I’m working on is not allowing the past, including negative thinking, to control me. I think I’ve always been okay with change because it’s impermanent, and impermanence makes me feel safer. But I want more consistency in my life. I want to be able to look at myself, imperfections and all, and say that I’m worthy of good things.”
Shulamit picked up her microphone. “Two minutes.”
He didn’t have much time.
“Faye—”
She cut him off. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said, not allowing her to take all the blame for what happened. “I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing. I should have told you what I was up to. I thought I was protecting you from The Paper Boys, but the truth was... I was just protecting myself. Because the whole time, I was afraid to lose you.”
“I understand.” Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “I do. And I think I just convinced myself you were a golem because I couldn’t believe someone so perfect, so unattainable in my mind, would ever want me. It just seemed easier to push you away than risk falling in love...getting hurt all over again.”
Greg leaned across the table, and finally took her hands.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Greg said.
“Me, too.” She swallowed, gripping him, refusing to let go. “I just...there is so much more I want to explain to you, so much more that I want to say, and it kills me that we only have like...thirty seconds left.”
“Then let’s not make it thirty seconds,” he offered. “Let’s get the hell out of here, Faye. Let’s start, right now and at this very moment, to get to know each other. In the present. Without Paper Boys, and missteps, and lies. Hell, let’s go to therapy together.”
Faye didn’t hesitate. “I’d like that very much.”
“Good,” he said, his voice lowering. “Because I want to get to know you, Faye. And I want you to get to know me...in every single way.”
The bell rang out, signaling the end of their five minutes together. The room began to shift, strangers searching for lovers, but for Greg and Faye, the journey wasn’t over. Instead, it was only just beginning.
Greg rose from his seat and offered Faye his hand. She took it, and he led her out of the room. Outside, a gentle snow fell down around them. The end of winter. The start of spring, and new beginnings, hopefully.
Unable to resist the urge any longer, Greg kissed her. He kissed her with his full and honest self, and his whole heart. He kissed all the imperfections that made her unique, and whole, and funny, and strange. He kissed her, because in so many ways, he and she were the same. And he couldn’t remember who he had been without her.
Faye pulled back from the kiss, her heart and her mind reeling. Greg hadn’t left her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, nuzzling his lips into her neck, when her feet stopped.
“You came in on a snowmobile?” She blinked, surprised.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “To tell you the truth, I was actually planning to catch a ride with Nelly. But she left for this shindig without telling me, and when I went to the garage, this was the only vehicle there. Weirder still, she left the keys and a note telling me to have fun...so, there you go. I took the snowmobile.”
Faye rolled her eyes up to the moon. Clearly, Nelly had never planned to take Greg. Faye was always supposed to be getting a ride with the wily octogenarian. It seemed that, even with The Paper Boys apprehended, the old woman’s antics were far from over.
Faye shook her head. “That woman is playing 3D chess when all the rest of us have checkers.”
“Anyway—” Greg frowned, concern etching his brows “—I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she said, before raising one eyebrow at him. “Though, I have to ask... Did you like it?”
He considered the question. “Truthfully,” he said, after a beat, “I loved it. I think snowmobiling may be my preferred method of travel going forward.”
Faye laughed again.
Of course he did.
She had spent so much of her life believing that people—along with their love—were unreliable. But staring at that snowmobile, and Greg, thinking back to her friends, and Hillel, the journey they had all taken together—her heart expanded. She had always been open to the magic of the universe, but tonight, she felt it.
Greg helped Faye onto the snowmobile, and together, they took off—Faye driving, Greg wrapping his arms around her. And it felt remarkable, the wind whipping her hair, the safety of his grip as they journeyed over hills and beside highways together. And all the bad of her life suddenly seemed worth it...for it had led her to finding her person.
Finally, they arrived back at Magic Mud Pottery.
They parked the snowmobile outside, stepping off the vehicle and onto the street. The snow flurries swirled around them, decorating their hair and jackets. Faye lifted onto her tiptoes. Wiping one single flurry off his nose, she kissed Greg again fully. Love was not, and had never been, an avalanche. It was more like a snowflake—imperfect, impermanent—but worth standing in the cold for, anyway.
“I should warn you,” Greg said, his lips trailing up her neck, whispering in her ear. “In the time we’ve been apart, I’ve been reading a lot of romance novels.”
Faye pulled back. “I’m actually...okay with that.”
He grinned, and then kissed her again. She met his passionate touch with her own heady desire. Despite the cold, her entire being flushed warm. She was ready for this—not just a new beginning, but to take control of her narrative.
Her body caved to his touch. Her back arched, and her hips moved forward, as her hands found his belt. She groaned into his neck as he dug into the fleshy bit of her buttocks with his fingers. She gave in to the aching in her heart, and the need in her body, not allowing the past to destroy the good in her present, while they scrambled to the front door of Magic Mud Pottery.
Suddenly, Faye stopped. The strangest thought occurred to her.
“Actually,” she said, placing both hands on his chest, “before we go inside, I have a very important question for you.”
“Oh.” Greg dipped back, concerned. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
“What’s your real name?”
He laughed, sweet and adorable. “I guess we never covered that, huh?”
“We did not.”
Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Faye, you’re never going to believe this...but my real name is Greg.”
She scoffed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Greg shrugged simply. “Greg Stoneman.”
The image of that golem, the one she had buried in her backyard, returned. It couldn’t be...could it?
But then, catching the glint of his eyes twinkling in the moonlight, seeing the way he looked at her, so full of care and concern— so full of desire, too —Faye shook whatever trepidation still lingered in her heart away.
Whatever his name, whether it was magic or some element of nature that had brought them together, no longer mattered. Greg was perfect for her. And she was perfect for him. And together, they would craft a story that would be totally and wholly their own.