Page 48 of The Velvet Hours
With only fifteen minutes to spare before Alex was to arrive, I arranged the roses I had bought and quickly went into the bathroom to fix my hair, apply a little lipstick, and slip into my favorite blue wool dress.
It was ten fifteen when I heard him buzz the main door downstairs.
***
His footsteps sounded like the most beautiful percussion. We were on the fifth floor, and with every landing I could hear him getting closer.
But it was only after I could hear his escalating breath that I stepped out from the open door.
“Solange,” he said. He was clutching a bouquet of violets. “No elevator?”
I laughed.
“You are worth the climb,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. I was now standing in the hallway in my favorite dress, my hair tied back. At the last minute, I had tied a black silk ribbon behind my hair. I had never bothered with such a feminine detail before.
“I’m so sorry, and we’re on the top floor,” I apologized.
“There is no need for regrets,” he said, smiling at me. I saw his eyes take note of the nice shape the dress made of my figure, as well as the ribbon in my hair. “How lovely you look.”
“Thank you.” I blushed. I pushed back against the door. “Please, Alex, our apartment is very modest, but come in.”
***
My mother’s bookshelves were in the first room when one entered our apartment. An extensive wooden tower took up the entire wall.
“It’s wonderful to be greeted by books,” Alex said sweetly. “Your home looks very similar to ours.”
I smiled. “That makes me happy to know we have something else in common.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offered.
Alex shook his head and I came closer to him.
“The Haggadah is safely tucked away on the highest shelf. Let me get a chair.”
He chuckled. “I like your form of security, Solange. Hardly the most foolproof... yet I doubt there are a lot of thieves that would know you’re in possession of a rare fourteenth-century Haggadah.” He looked at me and smiled. “I think the biggest risk of that would be my father, but I doubt he could make it up the five flights of stairs to read it.”
I laughed. “I’ll just get a chair from the kitchen.”
“Let me help you.” He followed me to the next room. The smell from the bouquet of violets he had brought still lingered on his clothes.
I gave him a chair to take back and place closer to the shelf so I could climb on it to reach the top shelf.
“I’ll hold it for you, so you’re steady,” he offered sweetly.
After thanking him, I stood on top of the chair to retrieve the book. It was heavy, and I knew I had to be careful. Alex’s father had treated it with such care and respect when he was handling the pages. I wanted to make sure I treated it the same.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His hands were tight around the seat of the chair.
“Yes, I just want to make sure I have a good grip on it.”
Slowly I came down from the chair, clutching the centuries-old Haggadah in my hands.
***
We did not speak as I brought it to the dining room table and laid it carefully on the flat surface. It was as if the object itself demanded a reverent pause before we opened its pages.
It seemed strange to look at it now, knowing the backstory of the couple who had created it. The Haggadah had only looked ancient and mysterious to me before, but now it also contained a love story. Two people who had spent decades together working to make somethingthat was not only a testament to the longevity of the Jewish people and their exodus from Egypt, but also their own relationship. The book now appeared more beautiful to me than ever.
