Page 134 - Contrast2012

ever grief that was there from losing my mother seemed to ha~e left me,
and I was as blank and bored and empty as always, and sitting in the
back of a synagogue waiting for ceremonial chants in a dead language,
praising a god who wasn't mine, infiltrating a world I didn't belong in.

Fifteen minutes passed with me sitting in the back pew, my
eyes entangled with the designs on the ceiling. I hummed something
tuneless and jingled my keys in my front pocket. At minute sixteen, my
beautiful girl walked in, this time unattended. She wore a green sweater
and had her hair behind her head in a ponytail. Again she sat in the .
pew right in front of mine. I continued to stare at the ceiling-I traced
hills and valleys in the white background, eyed invisible zigzags on the
chipped plaster. I thought about what I could say to this woman. Awful
lot of weather we've been having lately? I laughed inside at my own joke.
I leaned forward.

"Awful lot of weather we've been having lately, no?" I asked
her.

She ignored my stupid comment. I got up and walked up to
the pew she was sitting in and sat down next to her.

"Pat Johnson;' I said, extending a hand towards her.

"What about Pat Johnson?" she asked.

"Me. That's my name. I'm introducing myself"

She took my hand and shook it limply.

"Moira Fish;' she answered without enthusiasm.

"So;' I started, "how long have you been coming here?"

"Oh, about three years I think," she said, disinterestedly.
"Since they started doing services down here."

'~;' I responded.

A deep chasm of awkward silence began to widen between us.

"I've only been coming here since last Saturday. Out of curios-
ity,"

"Curiosity?" she asked. "So, you're not jewish?"

"Well, no. lwas just curious. Bored and curious."

Moira Fish was bored with me and, giving me nothing much

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