Page 51 of Status Undefined
You know those “knock-knock, who’s there” jokes? I hadn’t thought of them in ages but, as I knocked on my parents’ door and heard my mother’s voice say, “Who’s there?” that was all I could think of – and how I should reply. I’d been in New York for almost a week but couldn’t bring myself to see anyone. All I did was hunt for Amit. Not easy, given that he didn’t want to be found. I know this because he never answered my messages. Maybe he had blocked me. I could have asked Keren for information, or messaged his mother on Instagram, but I didn’t think they’d betray his trust and tell me where he was. That would be my last resort. Anyhow, for now I’d just sit at Strawberry Fields until dark. I had told Amit about the place and thought he might come there sometime. I thought about what Amit once told me about the Law of Attraction and tried to draw him to me with my mind power. I know it sounds crazy, but I didn’t have too many options. There was one other way to find him – one that didn’t appeal to me. I could ask my parents for his mother’s address. If they didn’t know, they’d be able to find out, right? And that’s how I came to show up at my parents’ house unannounced one Wednesday evening.
My mother opened the door without knowing who was there. I hadn’t given any of the “knock-knock” answers that were running through my mind. Her eyes widened and then she screamed and threw her arms around me. My father came out and embraced me too.
“Why only now? We saw you’ve been back for a week!” The first of fifty questions I’d prepared answers to in advance.
“Umm. I needed some time to adjust.”
My father didn’t say anything, just looked at my hair.
“What?” I knew what he was going to say.
“I understand you’ve been around shrimp-eating gentiles andbeen uncomfortable wearing akippa. But you’re in Brooklyn now, you don’t need to worry about putting one on here.”
It didn’t even occur to him that I wasn’t wearing a kippa because I didn’t want to. It wasn’t even a question, so I didn’t deliver the answer I’d prepared. I had many things to say to them, but I knew where I wanted to begin, and I didn’t want to let them derail me with unimportant questions. So the minute we sat down in the living room, I told them what I wanted them to know.
“I know you follow me on Instagram and that you know I dated a guy named Amit over there.” They exchanged a look. My heart thumped in my chest, but I knew I needed to continue.
“The reason I came back to New York is because Amit is here. I didn’t come back to get a steady job, or because I missed getting up for synagogue on Shabbat morning. I missed you, but you have to know that I’m not the same Daniel as before, and your expectations have to change as well. Being a nomad taught me so much about myself and I’m much more comfortable with who I am.”
There. I’d said it. What had I been so afraid of?
A tense pause followed, broken by my mother.
“Daniel, you went too far away from your loving home and of course it changed you. It would change the most pious person in the world. We know how challenging it is to keep our faith, our identity, in such foreign places.”
My father’s answer was more pragmatic. “No one says you have to go back to praying three times a day. Take it slow. Get used to being back. We’ll be there for you, no matter what. Your friends will too.”
Ah yes. That was what I was afraid of.
“I don’t think you understood me. I don’t want to come back here. I don’t want to take it slow. I don’t want to be pious.”
“What do you want, darling?”
“I want Amit.” I wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t possibly make myself any clearer.
“Where is he? Invite him to come and learn with you in synagogue.”
“We met his mother. She’s very nice. I’m sure you had a wonderful time and maybe got a bit mixed up. It’s ok. But we know who you are. We raised you.”
“I don’t know where he is. I lost contact with him.” It was my turn to look down. I couldn’t contain my tears.
“Maybe his mother wasn’t as accepting as she tried to appear,” my mother whispered to my father.
I don’t know why – perhaps it was one distorted notion too much – but that statement made me crazy. I’d tried to tell the truth, but there was a veil that distorted everything I said.
“You don’t get it!” I was on my feet, so frustrated. If they had understood and been furious it would have been easier than this drawn out failure to comprehend.
“Daniel, we do get it. We love you. Come home and everything will be alright. We’ll sort out all the problems.” My mother tried, and failed, to calm me down.
“It’s not a problem! I love Amit and he’s all I want.”
“But Amit isn’t here. Why keep talking about him? Let’s just start over, my sweetheart.”
Looking back, I realize I should have stuck to my original plan. I should have stayed calm. I should have asked what I wanted to and held back until I got the answer. But scenarios rarely play out in reality the same way they do in our minds. I was so frustrated I couldn’t think about what I had planned. I just wanted to get away from the awful scene with my parents telling me to leave Amit out of the picture. I could never leave him out of the picture. Never.
I walked out. Furious. My parents might have been trying to say something else to me, but I was past listening.
Outside, I started to run, fast. I wasn’t going in any particular direction and soon the rain and wind had me soaked to the bone. I ran until I saw the silhouette of the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s house. It stood there staunchly, with its reddish-brown bricks and square windows. I’d passed it a thousand times, but now I remembered that it was the reason I had met Amit for the first time. The Rebbe had been dead for 30 years, but it was because of him that there was a Chabad House in Phuket. When I was thirteen I was taken to the Rebbe’s house to get a blessing for my bar mitzvah. They read me a letter he had written that they believed was relevant to me – there were signs. I don’t remember what it said, but I do remember that they said he was pleased with me and wished me success in the wind and rain. Yes, now I understood why I had never believed it, but it was interesting in the way that hearing your horoscope is. I gave the house one last look – of gratitude mixed with weariness – and headed down into the subway.
