Wetness. Moisture. On his lips. That was his first thought. The screams seemed distant, not alarming because his brain was still not connecting all the dots.
Was he getting that long-overdue glass of water? No, not water. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, the brain was going through the slow re-booting process. Not water. Not vodka, either. It was familiar, yet …wrong.
Waking from a fainting spell can be a peaceful experience. Short-term memory takes a temporary vacation, blanking out whatever traumatic event preceded the blackout. Like waking from a long, relaxing nap. In this case, the vodka no doubt contributed to the slow recovery.
The screams were different now, more jarring and emanating from so many sources.
Eyes still closed, his mind at last connected with what was behind the wetness. The thick, slobbery tongue made its way past his lips and into his mouth. That accelerated his re-entry to the real world.
It was chaos.
“Wait,” his wife had said five days earlier, “you want to go?” Jess had only mentioned the invitation in passing, assuming Kev would have no interest.
“It’s an ancient ritual,” he said. “I love ancient ritual!”
“Seriously?” she asked.
After eight years of marriage, he was glad he could still surprise her. Kev did love ancient ritual, but this was different. This appealed to the twelve year old boy thinly veiled in all men. The child who secretly yearns to see something exotic, taboo. Who finds a hornet’s nest and, though he knows better, can’t help but poke it.
“If we have a boy, we will have this done,” he said.
“In a hospital. With a doctor,” she said. “Not in our house.”
“Ancient ritual.”
“You don’t even know them.” She really couldn’t believe he wanted to witness this, he hated the sight of blood. Kev wasn’t thinking about blood. He never considered it.
“What’s to know? Sarah works with you. She had a baby boy. She’s Jewish.”
“This is not something to make fun of.” (Okay, maybe she does know him.) “This isn’t like a baptism.”
“Sure it is. Only more penis,” he said. “Well, not so much penis…after…”
“If you are going to mock this, there is no way we’ll go.” She meant it.
“Okay, okay,” Kev had to corral that twelve year old boy. “I’m kidding, but I would like to go. I really would like to experience it. As an observer.” Her brows knit over unblinking eyes. “It’s one of the most well-known Jewish customs. It signifies the unique relationship between a Jewish boy and God.” He’d done four minutes of research on his phone.
“Really?” Jess asked.
“It really is kind of like a baptism,” Kev explained. He was winning her over. “Traditionally, a baby boy is named after his bris.”
Jess stared into Kev’s eyes and drew a deep, judgmental breath, then exhaled her decision. “I work with Sarah,” Jess said. Kev smiled. They were going! “You can’t mess around.”
“I will behave,” he raised his hand, the universal sign of promise. “No one will know I’m there.”
Three days later, on the eighth day of the young boy’s life, Jess and Kev left their daughter with Jess’s mom for the afternoon, though Sarah had told Jess kids were welcome. Kev was enough kid for Jess to handle that afternoon, and neither of them really wanted to explain to their five year old what a penis was, let alone why they were all gathering to watch some man fillet this baby’s freshly minted one.
Jess and Kev arrived at Sarah and Nathaniel’s home and parked on the quiet, suburban street. The long, double-wide driveway was filled to capacity.
“Wow, lots of cars,” Kev said to Jess. She knew what he really meant. Lots of cars meant lots of people, all cramped and crowded together. This might be a claustrophobic experience. Kev hadn’t thought of that. He dreaded crowds almost as much as he did blood. In his twelve year old mind, it was going to be five or six people standing around a rabbi (in full Hasidic attire) snipping off the end of a little cocktail wiener (kosher of course). No crowd. No mess. Mazel tov!
But as they approached the closed front door, they could hear the murmur of the crowd within. He could almost feel the house pulsate as he rang the bell. It’s a sunny day, Kev thought, maybe there will be a deck or patio out back. Maybe. But the heat was pretty brutal.
It was late July. The early afternoon was already over ninety degrees and thick with humidity. It could have been sixty degrees and arid and Kev still would have already sweat through his shirt in anticipation of the crowd.
The shade on the side window next to the door tugged aside revealing the face of an older man who smiled. The knob twisted back and forth. His happy demeanor turned to frustration and anger accompanied by a barrage of what was certainly profanity, though masked in another language. Eastern European…Russian, maybe?
The man started to pound on the door, as if it were stuck. A younger man appeared inside, with a key in hand. He applied it to the deadbolt and opened the door. The older man stood behind him, hands flailing about in pantomime at his amazement of dead-bolting the front door with a key.
“Sorry about that,” the younger man said as he opened the door. “I’m Nathaniel.”
Jess introduced herself and Kev and congratulated Nathaniel as they stepped in to air-conditioned relief. Kev went to shake his hand, but Nathaniel was busy behind them, shutting and re-locking the door with the key, then quickly moving up the stairs and on to something else needing his attention. He seemed stressed out.
The older man had remained with them on the small landing between the two levels of the house. “I’m Leo, the guest of honor’s grandfather,” he proudly announced with a heavy accent. Russian. Definitely Russian. Maybe Ukrainian.
“Sarah’s father?” Jess asked, then re-introduced themselves to Leo.
He hugged and kissed each of Jess’s cheeks as if she were family and heartily slapped Kev on the back. “Welcome! Welcome!” beamed the jovial little man. “This calls for a drink!” Clearly, he was looking for any excuse. He bound up the short flight of stairs in search of liquid refreshment.
Kev’s eyebrows raised in a surprised yet approving way. He also had not expected drinks. Jess raised a single finger, saying both ‘Yes, you may have ONE drink’ as well as ‘Behave yourself.’ She knew a drink might calm Kev’s certain claustrophobia but also that a couple of drinks with Kev could quickly get out of hand.
They were still on the landing, six steps below the living room and an equal number of steps above the family room. Twenty-five or so adults were roaming upstairs and half as many kids madly chased one another downstairs. A large bead of sweat ran from Kev’s brow down the side of his face. The basement would be cooler, but it was very noisy and wild down there. Leo and the promised refreshment would be waiting upstairs, but the temperature was likely five to ten degrees hotter than there on the landing. Plus, all those people. Kev moved his hand to the vent in the wall nearby to make sure the air conditioning was, in fact, on. It was cool to the touch, but the central air was no match for the heat from the roof melding with the overcrowding of bodies and the food cooking in the kitchen.
“Who dead-bolts the front door in the middle of the day?” Kev asked.
“Don’t start,” Jess said, “we can just walk right back out the door.”
“No, we can’t,” Kev said. “It’s locked. With a key!”
Jess ascended the stairs to avoid a tête-à-tête.
“It’s a little weird,” Kev said, following her from the pan into the fire.
Sarah greeted them at the top of the stairs, where the kitchen met the living room. She looked happy but exhausted. “Thanks for coming,” she said through hugs and kisses.
“You look great!” Jess said.
“Ugh, thanks,” Sarah said. “I think I’d rather be at the office than here!”
“This is quite the party,” Jess said. She and Sarah were the self-appointed, unofficial party planners at the office.
“Well, it isn’t a party until someone spills something,” Sarah said with a wink. This common expression had proved to be a truism at their office parties. It had become their little inside joke and they both laughed.
There was barking, muffled but loud and nearby. Kev glanced around, through the crowd. “Those are our dogs, Oscar and Frank,” Sarah said. They owned two black labs. Good dogs, but rambunctious. “They are outside today,” Sarah explained. “and none too happy about it. They love people.”
“They won’t get over-heated out there?” Jess asked, a big dog lover.
“Nathaniel put a huge bowl of water in the middle of the yard for them,” Sarah said. “It’s created a bit of a mud pit out there, but they’ll be fine. They’ll get tired of barking and lie down on the cement under the back porch to cool off before long. Besides, the rabbi is terrified of them.”
“Of Oscar and Frank?” Jess asked.
“Of dogs in general,” Sarah said. “Frank can be a handful.” Sarah had told Jess all about her dogs at work. Oscar, a slow moving eight year old with severe arthritis, was a gentle giant and great around little kids. Frank, six years Oscar’s junior, was a hyper little puppy in a grown up canine body. He still hadn’t quite adjusted to the fact that he was now two and a half feet tall and eighty-five pounds. Several legs of Sarah’s furniture had fallen victim to Frank’s gnawing puppiness.
“And where’s the little man of the hour?” Jess asked, looking around for the baby.
“Sleeping,” Sarah said. “We gave him a mild sedative. When the rabbi gets here, we’ll give him a topical anesthetic just before the procedure.”
“Procedure? Like medical procedure?” Kev winced and shuddered. Both women just stared at him for a beat. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“He’s the real baby,” Jess said wrapping an arm around Kev. “Just a bit on the squeamish side.”
Kev started to protest, to defend his ego more than debate the truth. But a little girl was suddenly between the three of them looking up at Sarah. “Is it time yet, Mommy?” she asked anxiously. Madeleine was Sarah and Nathaniel’s six year old daughter and had been sent by the troops of kids downstairs on a recon mission to check on the progress of the proceedings.
“No,” Sarah answered as she ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Not for a few more minutes.”
Madeleine turned to Kev and Jess and eagerly announced, “They’re going to cut my brother’s PENIS.” And then she ran back down the stairs.
“No filter,” Sarah said. “Nathaniel felt it was important to explain to her exactly what today was all about. In precise detail. I think all the kids downstairs have worked themselves into a bloodlust fever.”
“Will there be much blood?” Kev asked, trying to make that question sound like casual conversation.
Before she could answer, they were interrupted.
“Na zdorovje!” Leo said, appearing from the kitchen behind Sarah. He handed a small chilled glass of vodka to Kev and raised one of his own. Kev politely acquiesced, taking the glass, clinking it against Leo’s and both of them were quickly drained. The cool vodka felt good in the hot room. “L’Chaim!”
“I see you met my father,” Sarah said, wrapping her own arm around Leo. “Papa, not too much vodka before the ceremony, okay?” she said, but it was loving admonition.
“Seriously, there’s not a lot of blood, right?” Kev asked, again feigning as much casualness as he could muster. The cool liquid raised his inner temperature to match the outer warmth. Kev did a slow scan of the hot, crowded room full of strangers and imagined the baby blood fountain coup de grâce.
“Unless you are right up close, you won’t see a thing,” Sarah said.
“That’s where I’ll be!” Leo said. “Right up front for all the action!”
Sarah laughed and kissed her father. “Papa, why don’t you take Kev around and introduce him?” she said. “Jess, could you help me in the kitchen?” The two were a bit of a tag team in the office, so it wasn’t an unusual request. What was unusual would be seeing Jess in the kitchen. It really wasn’t her scene.
“No problem,” Jess said, the two of them disappearing down the hallway. Leo narrowed his eyes at Kev. “Well, Kevin, is it?” Kev nodded. Leo inspected his empty glass. “Looks like we need a refill.” With an impish wink, he was off. So much for being introduced around, Kev thought. It was just past one-thirty in the afternoon. This was going to be a long day.
Kev licked his lips. He was actually thirsty. Between the heat and the vodka he was going to dehydrate quickly. The kitchen was overflowing with humanity. He made his way through the crowd in the living room to the dining room hoping to find a small refreshment table. Alas, there was none to be found. On his left he found another doorway leading to the other side of the kitchen, just as teeming from this angle.
On his right was a thick, rust-orange drape pulled shut across a sliding glass door leading to the back porch. Even without touching it, Kev could feel the heat from the sun being blocked and absorbed by the curtain. On its surface, like a movie screen, paced shadows of the large dogs emitting whines and occasional muffled barks. Kev wondered if the back door was locked with a deadbolt as well. He swallowed hard and licked his parched lips.
Turning back to the living room, two kids, about five or six years old, wound between the legs of the forest of adults, then sprinted down the stairs, where it was undoubtedly cooler. “Slow down, small ones!” Leo said as he passed them coming up the stairs. He held a glass of vodka in each hand, one moving purposefully toward Kev. “I had to find a fresh bottle,” he explained. He leaned in and whispered like passing on top secret intel, “Downstairs freezer.” Then he looked about, inspecting the crowd to see if Sarah was watching. Apparently, his official drinking buddy had arrived. Kev was glad to be of service.
“To your grandson,” Kev said, taking the drink and raising it high. “May he grow strong and live long.” Leo clinked his glass in confirmation and they drank. The cool vodka soothing Kev’s dry throat and warming him in a way not unpleasant. He could have gone for a tall glass of cold water as a chaser.
“L’Chaim!” Leo saluted in return. The doorbell rang. Leo looked behind him at the door. “Nathaniel!” he bellowed into the bowels of the home. “He locks the front door, then runs and hides with the key,” he said to Kev. “Nathaniel!”
The doorbell impatiently rang again. Nathaniel emerged from the bedroom hallway looking sweaty and stressed. “I’m coming!” he said as he descended the stairs. He fumbled with the key, jamming it too quickly at the slot, lost the grip and dropped it to the floor.
“Why does he do that?” Kev asked Leo. Some might think serial killer or pedophile. Nathaniel didn’t seem to be either. But Kev thought a locked exit was an unnecessary fire hazard, especially with this many people on such a hot day. Trapped inside the house. The claustrophobia temporarily abated by the vodka was creeping its way back into Kev’s gut.
Leo rolled his eyes, “He says he is afraid Madeleine will open the door and let the dogs loose in the neighborhood.”
Hmm, Kev thought, seemingly reasonable. But if the dogs were safely kept in the backyard, why the unnecessary precaution? He started looking around for an alternate escape route. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being locked in a cage. The two shots of vodka on an empty stomach were kicking in.
“He bought the wrong kind of lock,” Leo confided, “but is too proud to admit his error.”
Nathaniel finally drove the key home and opened the door. An older gentleman in a suit coat, tie and hat stood there with a large bag in one hand and a small plastic chair in the other, a Jewish version of The Exorcist. Nathaniel welcomed him in, then locked the door behind him, which caused the man to give him an odd look. Then the man looked about nervously. “The dogs?” he asked, tightly clutching his bag of penis reshaping equipment.
“Don’t worry,” Nathaniel said, offering to take the small chair, “they’re in the back yard.” Nathaniel escorted him up the half flight of stairs, past Leo and Kev, through the crowd in the living room to the dining room table, which had become a makeshift altar. As the man unpacked his bag, Nathaniel set the chair on the table.
“The mohel,” Leo said to Kev.
“Mohel?” Kev echoed back.
Leo nodded. “He does the…uhh…” Leo made scissor movements with his two fingers as he struggled for the right word.
“Ahh… he’s a rabbi?” Kev asked.
“A mohel is usually both a rabbi and a doctor,” Leo said. “Never a vet.”
Kev wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. Leo didn’t laugh.
The ceremony was due to start at two o’clock. Leo turned to Kev, “We have just enough time for one more drink,” he said, “before…” then he made the scissors sign with his fingers again and a creepy click-click sound with his mouth to accompany it. Kev really did not need any more alcohol, but Leo plucked the empty glass from his hand and was away before he could stop him.
All alone and a little tipsy, Kev decided to mingle. He was usually stand-offish in unfamiliar crowds, but the vodka had loosened him up. He smacked his dry lips and thought again of a tall glass of ice water. Maybe Jess would show up with one for me! Yeah, he was drunk.
He greeted Nathaniel’s parents who’d flown in from New Jersey. Some quick small talk, enough for them to smell the alcohol on his breath, and they moved on to someone else. Other couples who had brought children were busy corralling their kids to the downstairs.
Nathaniel appeared and announced to all, “Rabbi Cohen is here and we’ll be getting started in just a few minutes.” Jess returned with Sarah and the baby, the boy of the hour. A small army of women poured in as if a dam retaining them had broken. They cooed and fawned over the baby and Kev eased away into the crowd of men-folk.
At two o’clock, the mohel clinked the side of a glass with a metal instrument to get the crowd’s attention. “I am glad to see so many children here today!” he said. “Many of them might be very inquisitive as to the ceremony, and rightfully so. However, it is my opinion, having done this for many years now, that any child under nine, even if they really want to be here, probably should not be present for the procedure.” There was a collective chuckle throughout the guests and the remaining children were banished to the downstairs level.
The men each donned a yammukah, Leo reappeared through the crowd sporting two on his head and a glass in each hand. He gave one to Kev and said, “Quickly now – L’Chaim!”
Kev shook his head in amazement and smiled. “L’Chaim!” he responded and down the hatch went number three inside half an hour. He shook his head again, this time to clear it, re-establish his bearings. Leo had removed the extra yammukah from his head and slapped it on the back of Kev’s, with a loving pat of confirmation.
“Now come on!” Leo said, as he grabbed Kev’s elbow and led him to the very front, next to Sarah and Nathaniel, the mohel, and the soon to be cut baby.
Kev looked back into the crowd and joined eyes with Jess. She looked at him with an expression of what are you doing?! To which he shrugged and looked at Leo. That’s it, Jess thought. He was cut off, and she was driving home.
The mohel continued. “We are gathered today to celebrate the Brith Milah or Bris Milah, the ancient covenant of circumcision – often referred to simply as Bris,” he said. “All, healthy, Jewish males are circumcised on the eighth day. It marks their entry into the covenant with God. I often say that it is the oldest mitzvha, or commandment. Actually, there is one earlier mitzvah: to be fruitful and multiply!”
“That’s what got us to where we are today!” Nathaniel said. Everyone laughed, Leo the loudest.
There were prayers and songs, all in Hebrew, which left Kev feeling even more alien. While the ritual was fascinating, all that vodka on an empty stomach was fertilizing Kev’s growing sense of dread. The prayers would soon be done and the bloodletting would begin. And he was now in the front where he could see everything, and everyone could see him. He felt trapped and exposed. He cursed his inner twelve year old!
The baby was ceremoniously passed from family member to family member until finally reaching the Sandek, or Godfather, whose job, the mohel explained, was to hold the baby still throughout the…activity.
Leo was the Sandek.
Kev’s discomfort turned to panic. He knew how intoxicated he was. His mind raced at the thought of having to hold a squirming child while someone took a knife and…and how many drinks had Leo had before they arrived?
“Luckily for grandpa,” the mohel explained, taking the baby from Leo, “the Sandek has become a ceremonial role.”
Luckier more for the baby, Kev thought. In his stead, the mohel had come with a special plastic chair, the perfect size for eight day old boys in need of just a little off the top.
The boy’s diaper was removed and he was placed into the seat. The mohel turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you relinquish your right as father to perform the act yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” Nathaniel said, eliciting another polite chuckle from the crowd.
The boy’s baby-threat-level shifted from content to slightly agitated as the molded plastic wrapped around his body and his legs were strapped in place by tiny Velcro strips. Leo as the Sandek dabbed a hanky that had been dipped in wine into the baby’s mouth to quell his cries. Then Leo bumped the ceremonial cup of wine, knocking it onto the carpet.
Every woman but Sarah set out on a mad chase to clean the stain before it could set in the carpet. Leo wondered if there was time to refill his other glass now as well, and stepped quietly aside to make room for the cleaning frenzy.
“Seltzer! Get seltzer water in the kitchen!” someone frantically suggested.
“No,” someone else said, “salt water! Salt water works best.”
“I heard baking soda,” said another. Jess’s eyes met Sarah’s whose rolled in a tired resignation. It’s not a party until someone spills something, they both thought.
Now that they had reached the penultimate point of the day, Kev’s inner twelve year old had given up. Suddenly, all Kev could focus on was the crowd and the impending blood, his two arch nemeses. What had seemed like a cool if puerile event to witness had escalated into something more stressful than he had expected. The vodka wasn’t helping. He needed to clear his head, swimming in the chaos of the seltzer scrubbing and the baby crying and the hounds’ muffled barking, Kev thought a little fresh air would be nice.
But there was no escape. Not through the crowd of buzzing paper towel dabbers. Not through the locked front door. He was trapped.
Leo was refilling the wine from a bottle that had somehow materialized without Kev noticing. Leo looked around furtively, and then took a quick sip. His eyes met Kev’s and he smiled sheepishly, then nudged him with an elbow, offering to share his beverage. Kev’s stomach lurched at the thought as he shook his head with a silent decline.
The carpet had been cleaned. The wine glass refilled, minus a sip or two. All but the boy of the hour had calmed back down to an eager hush, all attention back to the mohel. But before he could speak, Madeleine popped up right in front of her brother who was still strapped in and naked, asking loudly, “Did they cut his PENIS yet?!”
She had escaped the children zone during the wine-spill mayhem. “No, dear, not yet,” Nathaniel answered. The mohel smiled and stared alternately at Madeleine and then Nathaniel. It was clear he was waiting for her to be ushered back to the kiddie pool, but Nathaniel’s only move was a steadying hand upon her shoulder.
Kev stood alongside Leo, who stood next to Nathaniel, who wasn’t quite controlling Madeleine as she angled for a better view than her current spot a mere eighteen inches from the little shop of horrors. His head was swimming in vodka. The crowd seemed to blur into the background, the only thing in focus was the cry of the baby.
The baby-threat-level cry had elevated from agitation to discomfort. Though he’d been anesthetized locally “down there” and was being treated with wine from Leo (who surely had a talent at administering liquor), he did not seem too keen on this party in his honor. Mitzvah schmitzvah, this was seeming less and less cool to the eight-day-old.
One of the older boys who had followed Madeleine upstairs, called down to the others, “They’re about to cut it!”
The mohel was holding a long, thick needle-like instrument with a slight hook on the end. To Kev, it looked like of one of those tools that goes with a nut cracker set – the nut cracker cracks the shell, then you extract the meat of the nut with the piece that has the little hook thing on the end of it. The mohel seemed to be extracting the meat from the shell of the foreskin. Kev hoped he wouldn’t also deploy the as yet unseen nut cracker. Apparently, he wouldn’t need to.
The cry escalated to panic.
Kev broke out in a fresh round of cold sweat and bit his lower lip. He thought about closing his eyes but he had forgotten how to do it. This was the moment his twelve year old self wanted! He would see it. Look! LOOK. Are you happy now!? he screamed at himself.
The mohel positioned a small metal collar about the little man’s little man, raised up a knife and…
As a father, Kev knew what the different sounds of a child’s cry can mean. The I’m hungry cry is different from the I’m tired cry. He could distinguish between the I’m poopy cry and the I’m hurt cry as well as the I’m frustrated cry.
This cry, this scream, was different. The my penis has just been severed by a sharp instrument cry would surely haunt him to the grave.
Oh, and that bloody little stump.
Kev’s final conscious image of the event, the one burned into his mind, playing on a slow, repeating cycle now, was of the red gush of her brother’s blood spewing forth from the severed foreskin branding the front of Madeleine’s bright yellow dress. She seemed to regard it as one would a blue ribbon. It reminded Kev of juice spurting from a freshly speared ripe grapefruit. Ruby Red. That was enough to put him over the edge.
The screams, though loud and directly in front of him, began to fade as his mind retreated down a long tunnel. As Kev slid toward darkness, he noted the twelve year old Kev balled into a fetal lump over to one side, screaming and wetting himself. Adult Kev remained dry. Parched. Desiccated. Small, grey fireworks-like explosions blotted his vision.
He had to get out. Out of the tunnel. Out of the house. Kev stumbled away as applause rang out from the crowd. Past jubilant, grinning Leo. Past satisfied, bloody Madeleine. Past the circumcised, screaming baby.
There it was! The light at the end of the tunnel! The light shining through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard– and freedom! Kev lurched toward his escape. But it was like wading through molasses.
“Are you alright, son? You don’t look well,” said a kindly face.
Nathaniel’s father? And mother? He couldn’t tell. The couple seemed far away, yet they were right next to him. Holding his arms on either side. Holding him back… holding him up? Kev could no longer tell. He pushed past without reply, breaking free but losing his balance. He had to make it to the light! He lunged for the handle of the slider, but fell short, grabbing a handful of drapes instead. Kev gripped the fabric and pulled hard to propel himself to his goal.
The floor-to-ceiling window treatment came loose from the wall mounting and fell on Kev’s would-be good Samaritans. They started screaming and thrashing about under the curtains. Joy turned to sudden panic in the crowd.
The room began to spiral as if the floor had liquefied and poured down a giant drain before him. He needed water. He needed air. His hand found the handle of the back door. It wasn’t dead bolted after all. It easily slid open. Kev leaned against the open door and slid gracefully down to the floor, unconscious.
The dogs charged inside, sloppy and thick with mud.
Much more seltzer water would be needed.
Pandemonium literally burst into the house. The mohel freaked out, screaming loudest of all. The dogs seemed to regard this as an invitation to play and tore through the living room like mud-coated hounds freed from Hell. Oscar and Frank jumped on the couch, on the chairs, on the guests, leaving everything in their wake coated in muddy paw prints and hot, dog slobber which they had been working up to a good lather for the past hour.
Everyone was freaking out. Everyone except Leo and Madeleine. They were laughing. Laughing with delight. The commotion drew the attention of the kids, who surged up from the stairwell just as the mohel was stumbling down them in a panic, his plastic chair and bag of penis-slicing accessories left behind, yelling “Get out of my way!” to the onslaught of children. The dogs were not far behind.
The kids joined the dogs in hot pursuit. It was the best game so far! All were screaming and laughing, and getting covered in mud.
Oscar broke off from the pack, letting the younger pups have their fun. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. Frank, on the other hand, made a bee-line for the mohel. He seemed to instinctively zero-in on the one person most terrified of dogs. Cornered on the landing at the front door, the mohel twisted at the knob and shook the door in vain as Frank jumped on him and playfully licked at his ears. Probably smelled the fresh meat on him.
Oscar found Kev passed out on the floor and decided to provide mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He’s a good dog.
Wetness. Moisture. On his lips. That was his first thought. Finally, Kev was getting that long-overdue glass of water! But no, it wasn’t water. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet. Hadn’t thought to, the brain was going through a slow re-booting process. Not water. Not vodka, either. It was familiar, yet …wrong. Eyes still closed, his mind at last connected with what it was.
Licking.
The screams were different now and emanated from so many sources.
Kev slowly sat up and scratched the back of Oscar’s ears – thanking him for his assistance as he assimilated the havoc surrounding them. Oscar got in a couple more solid licks for good measure. Through the cacophony of chaos, Kev could hear the mohel screaming for Nathaniel, who mercifully appeared and began working the deadbolt key with one hand while trying to hold back Frank with the other. Not an easy feat over the back of a panicked rabbi and a swarm of excited kids angling to get in on the fun.
The door finally opened and the mohel spilled onto the steps and out to the driveway. He recovered just in time to look back and see Frank break free from Nathaniel’s grip.
“Eeeeek!” he screamed as he recovered and started running down the street.
“You’ll be hearing from me on Monday!” he called over his shoulder in a tone implying it would not be a friendly conversation. The mohel was now the leader of an unwanted parade, just steps ahead of Frank… followed by Nathaniel shouting “Sit!”… and a horde of mud-covered kids laughing with glee.
Back at the house, Sarah was taking a long, hard look at the disaster zone that had so recently been her living room. Jess appeared beside her. “I’m so sorry,” she said putting a supportive arm around Sarah.
“Well,” Sarah said, “now it’s a party.”
Jess surveyed the living room. Nathaniel’s parents had been liberated from their curtain prison, women were busily dabbing at the mud stains with wet rags. She found Kev sitting against the back wall, Oscar still licking his ear. Their eyes met. Kev used his to emote apology. Her glare was having none of it. Kev tried to stand, but the spinning world sat him back down hard, his head pumping in league with his heart. With a mix of shame and disgust, Jess turned away to help her friend triage the disaster. Oscar resumed licking his ear.
Kev’s mission, his twelve year old self’s dare, had been accomplished; that ethereal thirst quenched. He had witnessed something he would never be able to un-see. But the cost had been greater than he expected. A price he was far from finished paying. His corporal thirst remained unsated. He needed to hydrate. And rinse the taste of dog from his mouth.
Like an ornery sprite from a children’s tale, Leo reappeared, grinning with pride. “You need some hair of a different dog,” he said, and handed him a cold glass of vodka. “L’Chaim!”
