Confluence. Stephen J. Gordon

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      “So, Gidon, really,” the rabbi pressed, “do you have a place for tonight?”

      I thought about the text message on my phone. I hadn’t responded to it.

      “JJ,” Shelley said to her husband, “Gidon is hesitating because he has to check with his wife or girlfriend, right?”

      As I considered a response, a red Kia went by with four kids inside. I could hear rock music blasting through the open windows as the car passed us.

      I turned to the rabbi. “ ‘JJ’?”

      “Joshua Jeffrey.”

      Shelley explained: “We’ve known each other since high school. Now stop avoiding the invitation. Go talk to your friend and let me know.” She didn’t mention “wife” this time. She noticed I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

      The phone in my pocket vibrated again. Another text message. I ignored it.

      “Okay,” I smiled. “I’ll ask.”

      A maroon, late model Buick approached from the left with three men inside. It seemed to slow as it went by, and the two passengers – one in front and one in back – were looking our way. I didn’t get a good look at them, except to see that the man in front was wearing aviator-style sunglasses.

      “Here’s the address,” the rabbi handed me a card. It said, “Shelley’s Party Planning” with a phone number and address.

      “If you come to dinner, I’ll explain the card,” Shelley said. “We’re just around the corner. I’ll give you directions when you call.” With that, she put her arm through the rabbi’s and the two of them headed back into the building.

      Even before the glass entry door closed behind them, I dug the cell phone from my pocket and read the text.

      “I NEED YOU – NOW.”

      I texted back that I was on my way.

      S

      By the time I pulled my Grand Cherokee into the Solomon Stein Day School parking lot outside the Beltway, only a few cars were left. Being late in the day, students as well as most staff had gone for the weekend. The Day School was a K-8 private school, teaching both secular studies and Judaic courses. I hustled across the parking lot and over to a curved roof overhang, protecting the school entrance. I swiped in, knowing that a computer somewhere was recording my name and entry time. No sneaking in unnoticed.

      The building, like the parking lot, was all but abandoned. The lobby was a two story open affair with offices to the left and a floor to roof mural ahead of me to the right. It was some modern impressionist thing that I was told represented various events in Jewish history. Most observers couldn’t figure it out. The artist, rumor had it, had gotten the idea from the mural high up in the Capitol rotunda in Washington. Never mind that the Capitol mural was designed to look like a series of sculptures, or that it only went around the inside of the dome and wasn’t floor to ceiling. Here at the school, I don’t think anyone paid attention to this mural anymore. Around to the immediate right was a staircase, and I took the steps two at a time.

      On the second floor, I followed the corridor to the left, turned right past a storage room door painted in the style of the mural, and then walked past yellow walls covered with student art. Down a silent hallway, I found the office I was looking for. The door was closed and had the name Katie Harris inscribed on a brass plate at eye level. I knocked, waited for a “Come in,” and stepped inside.

      Katie was sitting behind a desk with neatly stacked piles of papers and folders. I always marveled at anyone who could keep a neat desk. Katie stood up. She was a petite woman in her early thirties, with her blonde hair pulled back with a barrette. She was wearing a peach jacket over a collarless white top and green skirt.

      “So where were you? I had to send a second text.”

      Katie came around her desk, and as she did, she took off her jacket to reveal that her white top was a tank top. I loved Katie in tank tops. They accented her tanned shoulders and her curves. And this white one was my favorite. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

      “If you must know, I was actually in a synagogue, thinking.”

      “You were in a synagogue. Thinking.”

      She put her arms around me and held me close. She kissed me.

      “Well,” she lowered her voice, “I was here…thinking…that tonight we have no plans. I get to spend the entire evening with you.” She inched her body closer until we were very close. We stood groin to groin.

      Katie moved her hips minutely and looked into my eyes.

      I peered back. “You keep doing that and I’ll lose…”

      “Lose what?” she whispered, as she moved her hips ever-so-slightly again.

      “I don’t remember.” I kissed her gently. “I guess I should tell Josh and Shelley we won’t be joining them for dinner.”

      We swayed slowly as one.

      “Who are Josh and Shelley?” she asked barely audible in my ear.

      “He’s the rabbi of the shul. Shelley’s his wife.”

      “Mmm.”

      “They’re nice.”

      “…And they invited us to dinner. That’s sweet.”

      I swallowed. I could feel my heart beating against her. “You’d like them.”

      We rested our heads on each other’s shoulders. I closed my eyes.

      “So, do you want to go?” Katie asked.

      I kissed the side of her neck, then paused. “Go where?”

      “To your new friends.”

      “What new friends?” I could smell her scent on the skin just below her ear. I breathed it in.

      She stopped swaying. “I think you should go.”

      “What?”

      “I think you should go.”

      “You do?”

      Katie pulled away just enough so we could look at each other. “Yeah. You’ve been looking for something lately.”

      “Have I?”

      She smiled. “You can’t hide anything from me. ”

      “Will you come?”

      She kissed me slowly. Then after a moment, “You should go by yourself.”

      I just looked at her.

      “I’m…not ready yet.” She paused. “I will…another time, just not tonight. “You go,” Katie repeated. “I’ll find something to do, and I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

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