Chapter 37
37
The wedding party is shuffled out into the cold, waiting outside in pairs for our cues to walk in. As soon as the rest of us are moved outside, Ana is supposed to make her entrance. She’ll walk up the aisle, stopping to kiss her parents and my mother in the front row. The front row, where my mother requested to sit. I wonder if there will be an empty seat beside her. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the awful image.
After she kisses the parents, Ana will walk up onto the stage, and wait alone beneath the chuppah. I wonder what it feels like for her to be there, on her own, all eyes on her for once as she awaits her bride.
Her beloved , our grandmother would say.
Ethan is beside me, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them for warmth. His faux-hawk looks frozen stiff, and even though he’s barely my height, somehow the sleeves of his rented tuxedo are too short for him.
“Man, we must really love those girls to freeze our asses off out here, huh?”
“Yep,” I say, not bothering to look at him. I just want the ceremony to be over, so I can go check on the golem and get on with my life. Not that I know what getting on with my life will entail, or how long the golem will be a part of it. I shudder at the uncertainty of everything, wondering how much decision-making power I really have.
A friend of Ana and Rosie whose name I’ve already forgotten is in charge of sending each couple out as the processional gets underway. The friend is consulting a wedding program, tapping people when it’s their turn to start marching. I watch from behind them as Layla and her husband, Amir, walk into the theater. Amir takes a seat in the audience; Layla alights to the wooden stage with the rest of the bridal party. Amir is just as fit and attractive as Layla, and an evil part of me hopes that he’s secretly gay or something. No one’s life should be that perfect.
“Hey,” Ethan says. “I was super wasted last night, so if I said anything, like, out of line, please just—”
“No worries,” I say, not wanting to have this conversation. “We’ve all been there.”
And then Ethan and I are walking down the aisle, arm in arm. Ana is under the chuppah, eyes shining. She’s wearing a tailored suit, black, with a creamy silk shirt and a rose blooming from her pocket square. She’s already flanked by the rest of the bridal party, since Ethan and I are the last ones to precede Rosie in the processional. Just as we part ways at the stage, Ethan stumbles a little; righting himself, he grabs my breast instead of my arm. I flinch, but he gives me a look that seems legitimately apologetic.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “For real.”
I nod, then look into the audience, and see the golem starting to rise.
“Not at this part of the ceremony, dear,” I hear my mother whisper, tugging at his hand.
Sit down , I mouth. Now.
For a moment, the golem stands there defiantly.
Then, slowly, he sits.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, I hurry up onto the stage.
The rabbi, a woman with a sleek silver bob haircut and warm eyes, makes everyone feel welcomed into the wedding ceremony. I think she’s one of the newer rabbis at my parents’ synagogue, but I can’t be sure—I haven’t been there in so long. I should probably go. Especially if they’re getting bomb threats. It would be an act of solidarity. Although I guess if it’s my people being targeted, it’s not really an act of solidarity. It’s just showing up.
I keep glancing back at the golem, wanting to make sure he stays put. But at some point, I get swept up in the ceremony, and everything else falls away. Ethan, the vigilant golem, my secretly emotional mother, the guests known and unknown—they all disappear. In the twinkling of the string lights above the chuppah and the Havdalah candle beneath it, all I see is my sister and her bride.
Ana and Rosie look so happy. The rabbi is talking about building a life together, starting with a solid foundation, and building upward into a true and lasting partnership. It all sounds like such a nice fairy tale. Rosie circles Ana, then Ana circles Rosie. Rosie’s elegant old-world lace wedding dress and Ana’s sleek black suit make them look like two halves of a whole as they circle one another—yin and yang, day and night, calm and energy.
Blessings are given. Rings are exchanged. Layla places a glass beneath each of their feet, and each bride enthusiastically stomps. The in-stereo sound of two shattered cups cues the entire audience to yell, “Mazel tov!”
The brides kiss, and I feel the unfamiliar sensation of hot tears stinging my eyes. None slide down my cheek, but they’re there. Reassuring or threatening, I can’t tell. But they’re there, reminding me I’m still human.
Then the ceremony is over. We exit the stage, this time walking down the aisle and taking up positions at the back of the room. It’s nice not to be out in the cold, but awkward to stand there greeting everyone as they exit the theater and head back to the cafetorium for the reception. Ana and Rosie are absolutely glowing. Layla greets everyone with a radiant smile, as does the rest of the wedding party. Almost as soon as the greeting line begins, Ethan announces that he has to take a piss, and disappears.
As I shake hands and get hugged by family and strangers alike, the whole time I’m keeping my eye out for the golem. My mother is part of the greeting line, as are Ana’s parents, who walked with the bridal party from the stage to the rear door. But Paul Mudd wasn’t with my mother when she joined the line, and I haven’t had the chance to ask her where he might be.
Soon, all the guests have cleared out of the theater. But the golem still hasn’t made his way through the greeting line. And now the stage-manager friend is ushering the bridal party back toward the cafetorium, and before I know what’s happening, Layla is beckoning me over to her. There’s a microphone in her hand.
Oh faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.
“Everyone, we are so excited to officially introduce you to the new Mrs. and Mrs. Berger-Goodman!” Layla cries. From their seats at the table of honor, Rosie and Ana wave. Then Layla turns to me. “And before we do the candle-lighting ceremony, Eve Goodman, Rosie’s big sister, is going to offer a toast for the couple.”
To my horror, Layla hands me the microphone and walks away. She takes a seat beside her handsome husband, and gives me a smile that somehow manages to convey bright joy to everyone else while conveying Don’t fuck this up to me.
Sweat beads in my armpits and runs down my back, forever ruining the magenta pantsuit. I look this way and that, my mind blank as a sea of expectant faces stare at me, smiling. When I lock eyes with Ana, her smile tightens. She, too, is willing me not to fumble this one.
I clear my throat and raise the mic to my lips.
“I, uh, had some trouble figuring out what to say today,” I begin, voice cracking. “I thought about saying something about the symbolism of the broken glass, joy alongside grief...but that speech didn’t...didn’t quite come together. Instead I just kept thinking about... I just keep thinking about...”
I close my eyes, praying that something will come to me.
Bubbe.
Dad.
Someone.
Help.
I open my eyes.
There’s no one who can help me.
There’s only me.
“I keep thinking about how much of life is outside of our control,” I say, looking around the room. A few people nod, in agreement or encouragement. “Almost all of it, really. Which is kind of terrifying, to be honest. I know, I know...the big sister has issues with not being in control? Stop the presses.”
There are a few chuckles.
Heartened, I go on.
“But even though we may not have a lot of control—we do have a lot of choice. We make choices every day. Choices about who we invite into our lives, and how we treat them. Choices about the kind of people that we want to be. Choices about whether to root for the Cubs, or whether to be wrong.”
More laughter.
I take a deep breath.
“Rosie and I were very close with our grandmother—our bubbe, Leah Klein. We were also very close with our father...David Goodman.” I thought saying their names would make everything harder, but despite the lump in my throat, I feel strengthened. “If we had control over it, they would both be here with us today. To see how happy Rosie and Ana are. To raise a glass in their honor. We don’t have that kind of control...but we do have a choice. We can choose to live our lives in a way that honors them: by being fiercely loyal survivors, like Bubbe; and by being funny, joyful cheerleaders, like...Dad.”
I close my eyes.
You’ve got this, Evie.
“In Jewish tradition, when we lose someone, we say, ‘May their memory be a blessing.’ And when it comes to us, and our loved ones...no one has been more blessed than we have. Ana and Rosie, I hope you know how loved you are—by those who aren’t here, and by those who are. So please, raise a glass with me, in honor of the loved ones we’ve lost, and in honor of new family members gained. Most of all, to the beautiful brides. We wish them health, and love, and every happiness. L’chaim. ”
“L’chaim,” everyone says, and I see a few people dab their eyes.
Including Rosie.
Weak with relief, I make my way to the bridal party table and slide into my seat. That’s when I notice that one of the seats at the long table is empty. I do a quick inventory of the wedding party.
The missing one is Ethan.
Heart thudding, I look around the room, hoping against hope to find the face I’m looking for, safely seated beside my mother or stationed at one of the doors.
But the golem is gone, too.