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Written by Dirty Di. Di is a first-time Jewrotica writer.
When he arrived in the country for the first time he was happily married and expecting his second child.
She was just returning from a three month trip to Africa when the community board, along with the trustees, called for a meeting to introduce the new rabbi to the community.
It would be wonderful to say that when they first saw each other, their eyes met across the room, their glance locked and their fate was sealed. But that wasn’t what happened. Her eyes met his, her glance locked and her fate was sealed forever. He would be dragged in later on.
He only noticed her a few weeks later. She, along with twenty-four other congregants, was selected to be part of the ‘Junction Box,’ a committee created to make the new rabbi’s transition less traumatic for everyone. The ‘Junction Box’, or the Junk, as some started to call the group, was supposed to meet at least once a week for the first few months, until the rabbi got ahold of the routine. The reason this committee was so big was to foresee the inevitable desertion of those who had something better to do than endless meetings on religious and social affairs. But she wasn’t one of the deserters. She went to every single meeting, week after week, until there were only three remaining: the rabbi, an old man –one of the Patriarchs of the Community, always there, always trustworthy– and her.
When The Patriarch failed to show up to a meeting, well, that’s when things started to go downhill.
It was the first one-on-one the rabbi had with a member of the community, he told her, and it was a relief for him not to deal with the bureaucratic business he had been mired in for almost a month.
So they talked, mostly about her, because pulpit rabbis rarely talk about themselves. She was positively surprised when he told her, in a rare confession, that one of his life-long dreams was having many daughters so he could teach them the same way Rashi taught his.
That was the moment when she started embracing the idea of being an actual part of the prayer, even if it was under the privacy of their meetings, which began to occur in a much more regular fashion.
After that came the text messages. They started innocent enough, generally with a pertinent question, and ending far away from innocent in the long hours of the night. They never talked about it the day after; it was like it never happened.
Until something did happen.