Chapter Text
1. Bat Mitzvah
Alec’s computer pinged, and his heart leapt into his throat. He minimized Runescape and checked the web-crawler he’d sent out. Forty results found. It had worked.
It turned out, the scripting had been the easy part. The hard part was working up the courage to open up the damn text file of results.
What am I so scared of? Alec thought. Whatever it says, I know my mama was a good person.
He took a swig of orange soda to fortify himself and double-clicked.
A record of her cremation at a funeral home, paid for by the state.
Three records of her from rehab clinics. Not a surprise. You know how she died. You and Nana talked about that.
Headline: “Northside High School Step Team Qualifies for National Competition.” Article: blah blah blah, step dance is a tradition from Black sororities and fraternities, blah blah, coach is so proud, blah blah, team members: Naomi Aydaw, captain. A dancer. My mama was a dancer.
A record of her employment at a bookstore. She could have given you her favorite books to read, like Nana does.
A notice in a Jewish newspaper in New York. “Naomi Aydaw was called to the Torah on June 4 to read from the book of Numbers. The congregation congratulates her on her Bat Mitzvah.”
Alec took a minute to google “Torah” and “Bat Mitzvah.” Jewish. My mama was Jewish. But how? I thought Jews were like… Images of Fran Drescher and Jerry Seinfeld flashed through his mind. Upper West Side. Pasty. Nothing like his mama. It had to be some kind of mistake. But how many Naomi Aydaws of the same exact age could there have been in New York City?
Does this mean I’m Jewish?
In the Jehovah’s Witness foster home, Jews were just another group of people for them to try to convert. Nana said that respecting everyone’s religion was important, and always drove his foster sister Malika to the mosque for Eid. Alec had met a few Jewish kids at school, but Jews didn’t celebrate Christmas and Easter, and Alec didn’t want to get left out of Christmas and Easter. Christmas at Nana’s house was coziness and family and good food and presents.
No. It didn’t mean anything. Mama was long gone, and Alec didn’t want to be Jewish.
2. Kabbalat Shabbat
Once the thrill of that first job with Nate Ford faded, all that was left was shame.
Alec had first gotten into the crime biz to pay off his Nana’s medical bills. Just one big score so she’d never have to worry about bankruptcy, and that would be the end of it. But getting away with robbing the Bank of Iceland had been such a rush. So then he’d started sneaking himself into the Oscars, and when his internet friends had said, “pics or it didn’t happen,” he’d shown them the anonymized pics, and become a legend.
He’d forgotten all about the important stuff. About taking money away from the Bank of Iceland and giving it back to people like Nana. For him, crime had become all about the rep.
Lost, confused, hating himself, missing the crew he’d only just met, Alec barely left his hotel room in New York for days. Then he remembered something from years ago. He searched through his old files and found it: the congregation that had put out the notice for his mama’s Bat Mitzvah, a little over thirty years ago. They were still around. Alec looked them up. There was a senior rabbi and a student rabbi. The student rabbi didn’t look like any rabbi Alec had ever seen before. She was a woman with deep tan skin and a wild cloud of black hair named Rahel Cardoso, and she was leading a guitar song circle for Kabbalat Shabbat tomorrow night.
Why am I doing this? Alec asked himself. It’s not like anybody’s gonna remember Mama. Her ghost ain’t gonna rise up out of the Torah to tell you what you gotta do next. But the next evening, he went to the service anyway.
If he’d been looking for some kind of spiritual revelation, he didn’t get one. Mostly, he felt painfully awkward. He was the only Black dude in the room. The Jewish songs were pretty, but it felt like he was the only one who didn’t know how to sing along. At the end, when everyone said the prayers for the wine and bread, Alec just mumbled.
That was when the rabbi found him, standing all alone munching on his piece of challah. “I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”
“Hardison.” He could barely look at her. He felt like he’d failed some kind of test. He said in a rush, “I’m sorry I didn’t say any of the prayers right. I grew up in the system and I don’t know anything about - and my foster mom, she always told me I gotta respect people’s faith - “
“Your birth family’s Jewish?” Rabbi Cardoso said gently.
“My mama went here,” Alec admitted. “To your congregation.”
“Then you belong here,” Rabbi Cardoso said firmly. “Why don’t you help me clean up after the service, and we’ll talk?”
Alec stacked chairs, and the rabbi explained everything from the service he hadn’t understood. Then she said, “What brought you here on this Shabbat, of all Shabbats?”
“Have you ever,” Alec began. He swept challah crumbs off the table. “I have a gift. A one-in-a-million kind of gift, my Nana always says. And I realized I’ve been wasting it. Using it for the wrong reasons. So now I’m trying to figure out the right reasons.”
Rabbi Cardoso gathered the little paper cups for the wine and tossed them in the recycling. “Moses was a little like that. He had a gift, too. He was adopted by the Egyptians, raised in privilege. It wasn’t until he saw an overseer beating Jewish slaves that he realized he couldn’t just live in comfort. He had to use his gifts to liberate his people.” She smiled at him. “Is that the kind of thing you want to do, Hardison?”
Yes. Yes, it was. And that meant he had to get back together with Nate Ford and his crew.
3. Goyim
Somehow, Alec found himself sitting next to Nate in the pews of Saint Nicholas Church. Nate was staring up at the empty pulpit and the crucifix, looking about a million miles away. Alec said, “I thought you didn’t believe in any of this stuff anymore. As far as I can tell, you like all the sacrilege of the stunt we’re pulling at this church right now. So why are you so… invested?”
Nate gave Alec a sideways, narrow-eyed stare. “I could ask you the same question. You don’t strike me as a religious man. I’ve never known you to go to church on Sunday. So why do you care so much?”
Alec didn’t know why it made him itch so much that Nate assumed he’d be Christian, when he’d made the same assumption about himself for most of his life, but it did. “Nuh uh.” He pointed at Nate. “I know your tricks by now. Don’t you turn this back around on me. Answer the damn question, Nate.”
Nate’s eyes bored into him like icy cold lasers. “You don’t have to believe in something for it to be important.” He smiled thinly. “There. Now it’s your turn.”
“My Nana taught me to respect everybody’s religion.” Alec stood up. “And speaking of showing some respect, I don’t go to church on Sunday ‘cause I’m Jewish. So who’s being rude now?”
As he left the church, he saw Nate’s eyes narrow again. Nate thought he was joking when he said he was Jewish. Everybody did, except Rabbi Cardoso. Maybe that was why he kept saying it, to street preachers, to random cops, to Nate, like a kid poking at an achy tooth with his tongue. Feeling the disbelief, feeling the ache, waiting for the person who would finally take him at his word.
4. Shoah
Alec caught up with the Mercers outside McRory’s Place, beaming. “Congrats, you two! You got your dad’s painting back!”
The siblings smiled back. Olivia said, “It’s all thanks to your team. We don’t know what you did to convince the owner to return it, but whatever it was - we are so grateful.”
Alec looked at the case with the Klimt, then back at the Mercers. He said, “You want to tell me about your old man?”
They exchanged a look. Ezra said, a little uncertainly, “Perhaps, but first - why do you ask?”
Before this job, Alec had never thought about whether any of his family might have died in the Holocaust. But now that the job was over, he couldn’t think about anything else. Maybe it hadn’t been the Holocaust, since his mama’s family had been Ethiopian Jews as far as he could tell, but it could have been any one of a million different times somebody decided to try and wipe out the Jews. Alec had already been carrying around being Black in America and everything that meant, and now he had to carry this new weight, too, and he didn’t know how.
Alec wanted to say all that, but his tongue was tied. He was nervous. He blurted out, “I’m Jewish too. So, you know. Helping y’all out means a lot. I thought you might want a witness. Somebody to hear his story.”
Ezra’s face softened. “You should have told us from the beginning! It means so much, knowing that another Jew helped us to get our father’s painting back. Of course we will tell you the story. Come back to my apartment with us! I’ll call a cab.”
They believe me, Alec thought, dizzy with relief, as he got in the cab with the Mercers. If these people of all people hadn’t taken him at his word, like the rest of the world never did, he didn’t think his heart could have borne it.
Two days later, Nana called him, like she always did on the anniversary of his mama’s death. Alec took a deep breath and said, “Hey Nana, there’s something I found out about my mama that I never told you…”
5. Yom Kippur
“Hardison.”
The casino blueprints swam in and out of focus on the page. Alec put them down on the arm of the couch.
“Hardison!”
He looked up at Eliot, standing in the kitchen, jabbing a loaded plate in his direction like he might use it as a throwing star. “When’s the last time you ate, huh? Do you even remember? Get over here.”
Alec groaned and gestured at Eliot to put the plate back down. “Put that down, that smells so good it’s gonna kill me. It’s Yom Kippur.”
Eliot set down the plate. He said, carefully neutral, “What’s that got to do with this?”
Alec bristled. He was hungry and thirsty and he shouldn’t have to have this conversation with Eliot, of all people. “It’s the Jewish Day of Repentance. They say the gates of repentance are wide open today. So we fast and think about what we’ve done wrong and how to make it right.” Just a little emphasis on the we, glaring at Eliot through the haze of low blood sugar.
“You never said. I’ll keep it in mind,” Eliot said gently. He covered the plate with saran wrap, and put it away. “You need me to cook kosher for you?”
All of Alec’s irritation drained away, replaced by exhaustion. “I don’t know, man. I’m still working out this whole Jewish thing.”
Eliot cleaned up the kitchen, replacing the enticing smell of food with the reek of surface cleaners, bless that man. He looked up at Alec. “The gates of repentance, huh?” The wound of Damien Moreau bled a little in his eyes, healing slowly, but still so raw. “And they’re only open for one day a year?”
“Nah, man, that’s not what I said.” Alec’s fuzzy brain snapped into sharp focus. He got up, crossed their open-plan lair, and leaned on the kitchen counter to look right at Eliot. “The gates of repentance are always open. There’s always another day to make things right. They’re just a little bit more open today.”
Eliot stared right back into him. Then he said, “Man, you can barely walk. Go lie down. When’s your fast over? I’m driving you back to the synagogue.” He came around the kitchen counter, took Hardison’s shoulder, and practically frog-marched him back to the couch.
“Hey, I’m fine - break-fast isn’t ‘til sundown - I just wanted to look at the blueprints - “
“Parker ain’t pulling that heist ‘til next week. The blueprints can wait. Lie down.” When Alec finally gave up and laid himself down, Eliot said softly, “What about all those things you’re gonna make right, huh? Close your eyes and think about that. I’ll get you back to the synagogue by sundown.”
6. Kosher
They had about twelve different versions of the spring brewpub menu spread out on the table, scattered among little plates with samples of Eliot’s new dishes. Hardison worked on the graphic design, while Parker tried the samples and told Eliot the feelings she tasted in each.
“There’s a couple more things I wanted you to try,” Eliot said, clearing away the empty plates. He opened the fridge and brought out a bowl and a plate. “This is a rosewater almond flour cake, and this is Sephardi charoset - I made it with some toasted pistachios and Cabernet Sauvignon. The charoset could go on the cake as a topping.” Alec stared at the food, then back at Eliot, who smiled. “I thought we might offer some kosher for Passover options. We’d have to get certified, but -“
Parker had already snatched up a slice of cake. “Mmmm!” She swallowed and grinned so hard she lit up the whole room. “It tastes like you love Hardison.”
Eliot and Alec froze. Heat burned in Alec’s face and chest. Parker kept eating the cake and making happy little hums with each bite. When she noticed, she said through a mouthful, “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Alec got the feeling that Eliot needed him to say something first. So he picked up a spoon and tried some of the reddish gold charoset. It was different from the charoset he’d tasted at his first Passover last year - less tart, with more warm spice, like chai. It was sweet and soft with little bursts of crunch. “You’re right, Parker. It does taste like that.” He looked back at Eliot and glowed at him, the way Alec knew he could do sometimes.
Eliot blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. “You want it on the menu?”
Alec’s grin spread slowly across his face. “Hell yeah. I want it on the menu every year for Passover.”
“Then I’ll keep making it,” Eliot said roughly. “For as long as you want it on the menu.”
Parker tried a spoonful, and her eyes went wide. Alec said, “I don’t think we’re ever gonna get tired of it. You might as well make it a permanent addition.”
Eliot looked back and forth between them. “Yeah? You think so?”
Parker vibrated like a plucked bowstring. She burst out, “Can we still celebrate Christmas? I promise we’ll celebrate Passover too!”
Hardison held out his arm, and when Parker moved closer, he hugged her sideways and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Of course we can, babe! Whatever y’all want.” He looked at Eliot. “You got any holidays you wanna put on the calendar?”
“Veteran’s Day,” Eliot said. “We fill up the brewpub with homeless vets, get ‘em all fed and clothed.”
Alec took a step toward him and dropped a kiss on his cheek, too. He said in Eliot’s ear, “You can ask for things for you, too. Not just for everybody else. But that’s okay. We’ll start with Veteran’s Day.”
7. Kaddish
“I’m about to make a trip,” Alec told Eliot and Parker. “I’d like you to come along, if that’s all right. Nana’ll be there.”
Parker lit up. “We get to meet Nana?”
“Yeah, babe, I really want y’all to meet her. But that’s not what this is about. It’s, uh.” Alec’s hands fidgeted on the table. “In the Jewish faith, you’re supposed to be buried when you die. There’s a, a protocol. But when my mama died, there was no one to claim her body. I was just a kid. So.” Alec’s eyes filled with tears. He instinctively blinked them back, then just let them fall. Nana had always taught him that crying was an important way to release emotions. “She was cremated by the state. Her ashes were buried in a mass grave along with everybody else who couldn’t afford a funeral.”
Eliot grabbed Alec’s head and pressed their foreheads together, breathing slowly to help Alec catch his breath between the sobs. When he could finally breathe along with Eliot, Alec straightened up and saw Parker watching him intently. “So what did you do to fix it? You fixed it, right?”
“Yeah,” Alec said. “I did. As soon as I learned about the way she was supposed to be buried, I bought a plot for her at a Jewish cemetery. She’s not there, but - it’s something. That’s where we’re going.”
Alec and Nana went hunting for rocks in the cemetery. Eliot had brought his own - “It’s from the roof garden at the brewpub,” he’d explained, making Alec tear up for the fifth time that day - and Parker had split off to find a stone on her own.
“I really enjoyed lunch with your partner and your friend,” Nana said, as Alec prodded around the base of a tree with his foot. “Parker’s a sweetheart, and it was good of Eliot to come all this way.”
Nana was the first person Alec had ever known to call Parker a sweetheart the very first time they met her, and he loved her for that. But he needed to set the record straight. “Parker and Eliot are both my partners, Nana.”
“Huh,” Nana said. “How does that work?”
“We’re still figuring it out,” Alec said. “It’s new to us, too. But there’s one thing for sure: I love those two with everything I’ve got.”
Nana spotted some stones between two tree roots and stooped to pick them up. She gave one to Alec and smiled. “Well, you know what I always say.”
They said it together: “Normal is whatever works for you.”
Eliot was waiting for them at the tombstone. He’d already placed his stone on top. Nana and Alec put down their stones too, and he thought about how they’d come visit again next year, and these stones might still be there, a reminder of the love they’d shown before. Parker came running up, smiling, holding up her stone. “I found a pretty one!” It had a vein of mica that glittered in the sunlight.
“Only the best for Mama,” Alec said, as she found a spot for her stone. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket with the transliterated Mourner’s Kaddish written on it. He felt incredibly self-conscious reading aloud from it, even though no one else would know whether he was saying it right or not.
Then he cleared his throat and said, “Hey, Mama. I - uh - I’ve been learning a lot about our people, and what we believe. I think my favorite thing I’ve learned so far is tikkun olam. Story goes, when God created the world, it wasn’t exactly easy. It was like the Big Bang, right? There were cracks and little shards of God left everywhere. It’s a mess out here. So the Creation of the universe, it ain’t finished yet. The world is broken, and it’s up to us to fix it. That’s what tikkun olam means: repairing the world.
“And one of the most important things I learned from Nana is that what happened to you was not your fault. That’s what everyone in the foster system told me, before her. That it was all your fault because you were an addict. But that’s not what Nana says.” He looked at her.
Nana gazed fiercely back, and said the same thing she’d always told him. “Your mama shouldn’t have had to shoot up alone. She should have had a safe place to go, with a nurse on call to make sure she used the needle right and didn’t OD. It’s not her fault she didn’t have a safe place.”
“In a better world, that’s what you would have had,” Alec said, choking up. “In a better world, you would’ve had rehab that wasn’t Narcotics Anonymous BS that makes you accept Jesus as part of the 12 steps. In a better world, you would’ve had access to counseling from a young age, and maybe you wouldn’t have started using in the first place. That’s why I gotta repair the world, Mama.” He brushed tears from his face with the back of his hand. “So I can make the kind of world where you’d still be alive.”
Nana gripped his shoulder tight. Eliot moved to Hardison’s right, just a breath of space between them, a protective shadow. Parker’s eyes were wet. “We promised each other we’d change together. Maybe that’s not enough.” She looked at Alec and Eliot. “We have to promise to change the world together.”
“Baby, that was the first promise. We made that one years ago,” Alec said. “We just didn’t know it yet.”
8. Bar Mitzvah
Notice in the newsletter of a synagogue in Portland, Oregon:
Alec Aydaw was called to the Torah on December 28 to become a Bar Mitzvah at age 27, proving to us all that it’s never too late. Alec was joined in the sanctuary by his foster family and his two life-partners, who made a donation in his name to the Tikkun Olam Action Committee. His Torah portion was Parshah Va’era, the story of God calling Moses to become a prophet to the Jewish people. Alec spoke movingly about how Moses told God he needed help, and God called on his brother Aaron to be his translator and his voice. “It just goes to show none of us can do it alone, not even Moses,” Alec said. “Liberation is something we gotta work for together.”