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You have to avoid touching her.
You have known how you feel about Neshama for about a year now.
There is no escaping the reality. The older girl is all you can think about, to the detriment of your Advanced Placement Chemistry Final. You construct your entire day around the possibility of seeing her, which is difficult considering how many grades you skipped and her aspirations to be a counselor but your greatest sense of achievement is how many 'accidental meetings' you can have with her in a week.
Feigning interest in the liberal arts is a small price to pay for watching her speak too eloquently on the topic or to get a casual invite along with her wider group of friends after class.
Neshama is a tactile person; she offers hugs freely, grips a hand in encouragement when you are practicing your lines for your cousin's engagement. Becca is already the gold standard in their Hebrew class, so it's a lot of pressure. You can't stand being anything but perfect.
Neshama’s smile of encouragement gets you through more than your parents reserved smiles.
Your face is a living billboard though; your cursed alabaster skin does you no favors, nor does your lack of motor control when you bring over soup for her sick mother.
So you have to avoid touching her as it's too much of a giveaway, but you can spend far too much money on front row seats to the band she loves to show your appreciation. You have scholarships and no real desire to spend your discretionary stipend.
You spend hours wrapping the tickets perfectly, but you are still trying to get the bow perfect as you walk the block to her workplace, mentally rehearsing what you are going to say and trying to strike a balance between casual and sincere. You consider lying and saying you got these tickets in a giveaway, but you have a terrible poker face.
It is something of a miracle that anybody believes your supposed infatuation with Gregory Daingizer.
You are happy with your speech by the time you make it to the ice cream parlor.
You spot Neshama instantly, and your blood runs cold; even though that is the worst biological impossibilities of casual language but it has never been more accurate description.
Neshama is kissing a girl.
A beautiful girl who is touching Neshama like she hardly contemplates not being in the privacy of her own room. The girl must be a casual acquaintance. Their community is so small Syd knows or at least knows of all her friends.
She would remember a girl with long, intricate tattoos and a leather biker jacket. This is Unkosher on so many levels it makes your mind reel. It is like watching the embodiment of all your hopes come to life but also crumble.
Your heart begins to harden, you turn and flee.
The worst thing is every body is trying to comfort you. Tell you that you have made the right choice that you followed Scripture, that it was better to have no daughter than one who would sin so readily. You have a horrible feeling that your parents have never been prouder of you as evidenced by all your favorite meals for the next three days.
Every bite of those meals tastes like ash, and you throw up the rich desserts. Your mother nurses you through your sudden bout of 'flu' either genuinely or willfully ignorant of the cause.
Becca is surprisingly silent during all the drama and doesn't join in on the gossip.
She is silent when you hide your first F from the family and doesn't say a word when she finds a crumpled photo of Neshama under your pillow.
You have 5, 000 steps to avoid touching her.
Your stunt with the scrub cap is ridiculous but you are not going to argue with the results. Maggie feels as amazing as you dreamed about, all your senses are on fire.
You are both too sensible to have sex in an on call room, although it is quite possibly a technicality at this point. You are embarrassingly eager but too lost in sensation to overthink or second guess your decision.
Fortunately Maggie approaches this event like she does everything else, with calm directness. There can be no doubt she is enjoying this.
She smiles at you tenderly.
“Are you in hospital accommodation still?” Maggie asked before giggling as you continue to attack her neck and collarbone, it’s going to leave a mark.
You stare at her blankly when she pulls back.
“I need time and privacy. I don’t particularly want the F1s knowing exactly what I fantasise about. It’s about you but if you keep doing that we won’t be stoping at 4th base”
You forgive her the crude sports metaphor as you all but drag her towards the emergency stairs.
You don’t stop smiling at each other as you jog to the apartment complex.
You have spent too much time in medicine to put much stock in the importance placed on virginity and ‘first time’. You would have waited for marriage but you had no expectations about the physical act.
Yet you are glad your first time is with Maggie. You are glad you didn’t follow your first impulse to pick up a stranger at the nearest bar.
This is better
She pulls you across the featureless rooms you call home.
She is calm yet certain. You love the fact she doesn’t doubt you, she trusts you to know your mind and to say no or yes.
You love the fact she laughs softly when you struggle with her bra and rewards you by guiding your fingers to her exposed flesh,
You love the fact she has no problem with marking your flesh. There is no shame in any of her touches, scratches or kisses. You are pleased you are not scheduled to work tomorrow. Maggie is but she is actively encouraging when you hesitantly return the favor.
You love the fact that she never stops talking to you. She teases you, offers guidance and encouragement. This feels like a dream but it cannot be because her voice grounds you in the reality
You love the fact that she doesn’t try and sneak away in the middle of the night. She offers to make you breakfast and stays curled up against you for as long as she can.
You have a sinking feeling you might just love her.
You love touching your wife.
You love being touched by your wife.
There is no ripping off of dresses. Maggie treats your layers as if they are in the middle of a surgery. Her strong talented fingers make short work of the buttons.
You love her even more when she takes the time to neatly fold the lace.
She squeals in delight when you throw your marital lace on the bed
It has been an incredibly long day, your wedding may not have been conventional but it was suitably festive. In the movies you would spend all night making love but you are both too drained to be adventurous.
The idea that this woman has agreed to be your wife is still awe inspiring. Maggie has been in your prayers for years but now she is the centre of your commune with God.
Your every act together feels holy and Maggie seems to feel it too and she whispers words of love in your second language.
You pepper her face with kisses and words of adoration. You repeat your vows in a hoarse whisper, adding some more private sentiments.
She makes good on her promise and spends the early hours of the morning trailing her hands through your hair as if she was memorizing each individual strand.
This is the first night of your new life together
You cannot quite believe you are feeling your children kick.
You are lying in your new favourite position beside Maggie with your hand skimming over her belly, singing to the twins.
Maggie likes to tease you that she is glad you have a pregnant wife to test all your best most dotting theories on.
It’s not an exaggeration. Maggie is your favorite case by far. There is no detail too small not to consider. You have three lives in your hands.
Not literally of course. Maggie has been very firm that your knowledge of anatomy not extend beyond pleasurable pursuits. You are confined to dealing with cravings, mood swings and everything else spouses contend with.
Mainly you try and combat Maggie’s boredom. Never one to be idle Maggie is craving projects that can accommodate reduced mobility
You retain enough Jewish superstition not to let her deck out their rooms entirely but you enjoy helping her debate themes.
Maggie writes three journal articles.
Maggie cooks you a meal most nights even if she can’t keep anything down.
Her biggest project is two handmade scrapbooks with pages to represent each of their milestones in the Jewish faith, complete with Gabriel’s notions.
Inside there is a heart wrenching note about Maggie’s journey with you and her acceptance in your new community.
The final passage is in neat painstaking Hebrew.
You can't register that you are holding Neshama’s hand again.
You have a photographic memory so saying you remember everything isn't as impressive as it sounds but there are a few facts that are etched in your mind. Every little detail of Neshama and Ruth's case is lodged into your memory both for personal and professional reasons, which is why you are willing to let a Neshama Frances into your office, even though it is your treasured time with the twins before Maggie's shift ends and the four of you go out for pizza.
Maggie teases you that the hospital daycare is wasted with you seeking them out for story time with Mumma.
"Neshama" you are afraid you sound as awestruck as the first time she re-entered your life almost ten years ago.
The other woman is transfixed by your sons and waves to them as they look up briefly from the books they are reading.
You silently usher her into the now empty patient room beside your office.
"I read your essay," Neshama says quietly after a long silence.
"I rather suspected you might."
You had been asked by one of the reformist publishers to write about your experiences of reconciling your faith and your identity, especially now that you were a mother and wife. The essays had gained a surprising amount of traction amongst certain circles and had even led to several speaking engagements.
You were researching and speaking in Toronto while Maggie finished the final stages of her trial.
The essay was harrowing and optimistic at the same time, showing both how dark your despair had become and how profound her joy was now.
You hadn't pulled many punches when it came to how precariously your psychological health became.
Maggie had been inconsolable the first time she had read the draft, clinging to you like a limpet for the entire weekend. She seemed to believe she could protect you retroactively. Gabriel had to convince Maggie not to fly to Canada and yell at Sydney's childhood Rabbi.
She settles for making you laugh every chance she gets.
You love her for trying.
The essay was both an apology to Neshama and a love letter to Maggie.
“The thing that always ate at me was thinking that you told mother casually before going back to your perfect life” Neshama confessed quietly.
You laugh brokenly struck by the irony of it.
“I can’t cclaim much if any high ground back then but I can promise you nothing I did was ever casual”
“I see that now. I am really glad you found your happiness too Syd. It was a hard road for both of us” she said gesturing to the room behind them.
“Maggie seems great and I was high on a drug cocktail and saw you swooning. Who would have thought the outcasts would find their soulmates?” She lapses into Hebrew.
You make tentative plans for a double date.