Page 78 of A Little Bit Naughty

Remi could just imagine Izzy all sticky with frosting and condensed milk, looking up at him with those wide eyes and begging for either baby wipes or kisses. Most likely both.

Remi let out a breath. He wasn’t going to tell his baby boy he had to eat something healthy before dessert because it wasn’t his place. “Do you want to try the mole? The reviews said this place was supposed to be good.”

“Mmmm… yes. The guac is good.” He crunched into a chip, leaving shards on his shirt.

Remi tried one of his own chips, trying not to imagine how it would feel to brush his hand down Isaac’s shirt. The warmth of his skin. The beaming smile he would receive in return. Just to clean him up of course.

It was time to change the subject. “Have you gotten your schedule for the fall semester yet?”

Isaac nodded, mouth full. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “It’s a cohort program so everyone has the same schedule. I’ll have the most free time on Tuesday and Friday nights.”

“So those work for dinner?” Remi would have to change things around with his family, but that was manageable. Isaac came first.

“Yep. It may be screwy for the next few weeks, though. High Holidays.”

“That’s, um… Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?”

“Good job!” Isaac applauded.

“Don’t give me too much credit. My department chair is Jewish and she gripes about the schedule every year. I don’t actually know what either holiday is.”

“Well, Rosh Hashanah is the new year. Literally the head of the year.” He gestured to his head. “You’re not supposed to work and you go to shul in the morning. The service is about opening up the book of life that your next year is being written into. And then everyone has a big dinner that night. It’s pretty low-key, but you’re supposed to dip apples in honey for a sweet new year. And ideally eat a fruit you haven’t eaten yet that season to say a special blessing. It’s mostly a fun holiday. The second day of Rosh Hashanah is even lighter on the praying, and you throw bread into a river with any regrets or concerns to start the new year fresh.”

“Wow. What lovely traditions. I truly didn’t know about any of this.”

Isaac shrugged. “Most people don’t. And this is like… probably the least weird Jewish holiday when you’re describing it to people.”

“OK, so what’s Yom Kippur?”

“That’s the day of atonement. You fast all day, not just from food and water, but from everything. Bathing, wearing any sort of scent or makeup, which is the modern equivalent of anointing with oil, sex, and oddly enough, wearing leather. It’s kind of your last chance to come clean with yourself before the book of life closes for the year.”

“Huh.” He’d really had no idea. “Is it supposed to be more about guilt or rejuvenation?”

“Hmmm… that’s a good question. But it’s very… I’m not sure how to explain it. Atonement in Judaism isn’t like what I’ve heard about Catholicism, where I think it’s very personal. In Judaism there’s like… collective guilt and collective atonement. Everyone pleads guilty of all the sins and forgives everyone for all the sins. There’s even this acrostic poem that you sing back and forth that lists all of the sins that the community might have committed.”

Isaac sang a few lines of something that followed a melody not quite like anything Remi had ever heard. The intervals were different than he expected, and he couldn’t decide if it sounded more happy or sad.

“That’s like… ‘for the sins we have committed before you under duress or willingly. For the sins we have committed before you by closing off our hearts. For the sins we have committed before you accidentally.’ And it goes on like that. There’s embezzlement and deceit and improper thoughts and false confessions. Some of them are really intense, like lying and adultery, but some of them are minor, like eating and drinking in some incorrect way or being frivolous. And we all acknowledge them together to be absolved of them together. So it’s… more meditative, I suppose. Or it can be. It hits me differently in different years.”

“Yeah, I can see how it would. That sounds like a truly beautiful ritual, though. I don’t think I’ve ever participated in anything like that. The closest I’ve come, I suppose, is the Christmas Eve service. But even that’s just quiet and calm. This sounds much more intense.”

“It’s the most holy day of the year. And yes, it’s usually pretty intense. But at the same time, you’re returning to all of these old melodies that you sing over and over again, so it’s meditative, too. And at the end, when you hear the shofar for the last time—that’s the ram’s horn that someone blows like a trumpet—it feels joyous. Transcendent, even. Everyone’s been fasting for well over twenty-four hours, so you’re halfway to delirious, and you hear this blast of the shofar and it’s like… we’ve made it. There’s all this symbolism about freedom, personal and collective, and it’s like you’ve walked across this, well, this narrow bridge in the imagery, and made it to the other side, so it’s time to rejoice. Then there’s a huge meal with lots of carbs.”

Remi wasn’t the most spiritual person in the world, but just being there to observe something like that sounded fascinating. Especially when he could see how much it meant to Isaac. And perhaps he would have been a more spiritual person if his religion was more than showing up on Sundays sometimes for a low-key sermon and a potluck. “Would it be weird for a non-Jew to attend something like that?”

Isaac shook his head. “No. I mean, it would be weird if you went to an Orthodox shul, but mine’s Reconstructionist. We’ll take anybody. If you decide you belong there, or even just want to check it out, you’re welcome. Are you thinking about it?”

Was he? Maybe not this year. But if Isaac was his, would he want to blend all of their traditions together? Definitely. And this sounded awe-inspiring, as long as he wouldn’t be invasive to observe. “More curious right now, I think.” He didn’t want to commit to anything. “So is that the High Holidays? Just those two?”

“Kind of. I mean, yes, that’s the end of the High Holidays. But right after that is Sukkot. And my birthday!”

That was definitely something Remi was excited about. “When’s your birthday?”

“September twenty-fifth. I think it’s the sixth or seventh night of Sukkot. I love it when Sukkot’s on my birthday.” Isaac bounced on the couch, nearly upsetting the container of enchiladas on his lap.

Remi had no idea what Sukkot was, but he already loved the holiday. Isaac had sounded so resigned about lackluster birthdays when he was a child, but it sounded like Sukkot made them special.

“Alright, tell me about Sukkot. But maybe put your food down first.”