Rachel Cantor - Good on Paper

Midrash, we’re told: Story written between the lines of biblical narrative.

Together, Esther and Benny translate verses 8:6–7 of the Song , discarding traditional versions.

First, Esther reads aloud from King James: “For love [is] strong as death; jealousy [is] cruel as the grave: the coals thereof [are] coals of fire, [which hath] a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it …”

No, they agree, that’s not it! That’s not it at all!

Not strong, but ferocious ! “Love is ferocious like death.”

They do not translate Sheol , leaving the word as is to preserve its sense of the underworld, with its implication of suffering beyond death, an implication lost in the dead-end translation of Sheol as grave : “Love is ferocious like death, its jealousy cruel as Sheol.”

Love and death conflate here: love finds its identity in the underworld, love is our harrowing, “its sparks, sparks of fire.” Sparks, not coals, Benny insists. To recall Isaac Luria, he says, mysteriously.

They debate whether shalhevetyah , the most vehement flame of King James, includes in its fiery body Yah , the psalmists’ Name for God.

Esther laughs: Of course it does — look, there it is!

“A great God-flame,” they decide then, God’s name not absent from the Song at all, but inscribed in love’s fire, where it belongs. “Love is ferocious like death, its jealousy cruel as Sheol, its sparks, sparks of fire: a great God-flame!”

“Great waters cannot extinguish this flame,” one of them suggests, the great waters being nothing less than the mayim rabbim of creation, the primordial waters which, according to some, predate creation, the waters God separates to allow for distinction — between two subjects, a subject and object — the waters that separate Romei and Esther. Or, better, “not even the great waters of creation can extinguish the great God-flame which is love.”

Romei was writing his own Midrash, opening the sealed story of his wife, imagining what he couldn’t know about her, her secrets and illusions, her beliefs and silent moments, writing between the lines of her life. And writing about the mayim rabbim when from across the great waters he receives a call that changes his life.

Esther’s in the hospital, Benny says. Kidney disease, brought on by a condition called lupus. Romei must come at once.

Lupus: when the body can’t distinguish self from enemy, when it attacks its own cells and tissues, thinking them foreign bodies. From the Latin for wolf , because of the characteristic butterfly rash, which gives a “wolflike” appearance. Only ten percent of “lupies” have a parent or sibling with lupus, and only five percent of their offspring get the disease, usually between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, the first symptoms often appearing in pregnancy. Esther’s lupus is systemic, the most serious kind, as it affects the internal organs. The result: flares that can last for years, followed by periods of remission. Esther’s symptoms included hair loss, joint pain, extreme fatigue, facial rashes, and now renal disorder. Her ANA test came up positive, but a syndromic diagnosis would have been possible years before, had Esther seen a competent doctor.

Her condition is serious, but she’ll be okay, this time. She wants to go home.

Romei packs his bags, the page ending mid-sentence, also mid-page.

Was the break intended to make clear the gravity of the disruption, or had the work itself been interrupted? What could interrupt Romei as he wrote by his wife’s sickbed? Only his wife’s sickness, I supposed.

•

As I walked home down Broadway, I thought of Esther, how small she looked in that photo, like a child, her face barely visible among her crumpled bedclothes, and felt tenderness for her. It was hard to believe I’d despised her before — what had that been about? I’d send Romei a fax when I got home, ask him how she was — I should have done it ages ago.

I was surprised to find no one in the Den. Ahmad said he’d pick Andi up after school, so where were they? Was something wrong? Another conference with Mrs. Chao? Something worse? It wasn’t like Ahmad not to call if he were late. My fingers felt prickly and light. Two hours? I tried calling but he didn’t pick up his phone.

Before I could call again, I heard the sound of keys turning in our several locks.

Where have you been? I asked as Andi burst into the room holding bags from Gap Kids and Saks, tugging a bike with training wheels. I pulled her to me, causing the bike to crash against the wall. I was so worried! I said as she wiggled from my grasp.

Mom! You’re being weird again.

What’s all this? I asked Ahmad. He also was carrying bags: his were from FAO Schwarz.

A bike and some clothes, Andi said. What’s it look like, a toaster?

Don’t get smart with me! I said. I am not in the mood.

No need for that, Ahmad said.

No need for any of this, I said, gesturing at the excess tumbling out of the bags.

Andrea needs it for school. You didn’t do enough shopping.

Andi’s got plenty for school. I just went through her clothes!

Look, Mom, Andi said, holding up a pink satin dress that must have cost a fortune.

Why don’t we agree to disagree, Ahmad said.

I’m sorry, I said, trembling, that’s not good enough. I am Andi’s mother and, like it or not, I am capable of giving her what she needs.

So you say, he said.

Don’t you start! I said, raising my voice.

Well, you’re not, really, are you?

I froze. Something was coming — I could feel it.

Andi, leave the room, please, I said.

I don’t want to leave the room. I’m always leaving the room!

Go! I said, and when she didn’t move, I gave her shoulder a little shove. Go!

It’s not right! she shouted, and slammed her door.

Lovely, Ahmad said. Just lovely!

What is it? I insisted. You said I’m not . What am I not, exactly?

Not capable of giving our daughter what she needs.

What is it you think I haven’t given her? Frilly dresses? Expensive toys? Are you trying to buy her? Do you think this is some kind of competition?

Ahmad was moving in for the kill, I could feel it, and I hated him for it. I hated his smugness, his will-to-damage, I hated him with trembling hands and pounding heart for whatever he was about to say.

You think I’m talking about things ? he said, feigning disbelief. You can’t support her, this is true. You’ve never earned enough to care for her. We can agree on that.

I’m sick of your insinuations! Tell me! What haven’t I given her?!

You’re selfish, Shira! I’ve said it before. You like to claim you’re the opposite of your mother, but you are as selfish as she ever was.

How can you say that! What have I not given my daughter? Tell me!!

Love, for a start. You have no idea how to love her! You’ve never loved anyone but yourself. I don’t suppose Benny knows this yet. He will.

Rage coursed through my body, pure as the purest drug, it rushed through my veins and gathered behind my shoulders like an explosive. It took everything I had to control myself, to not say, You know something about love? Roger, the only boyfriend you ever had, left you because you’re not capable! You haven’t seen your children in a decade! It’s not like you’ve tried to see them! Tell me what you know about love!