Listening to the opening bars, I recognized the softness in the back of my throat as nervousness and tried to remind myself there was nothing to be nervous about. Being wanted means you can stop being insecure, I thought. My cell phone rang.
“I’m in front of the building,” Sami said in Hebrew. “Where should I park the cab?”
“Around the corner there are usually spots.”
“Will you meet me in front of the building in a minute?”
“No problem.”
I left the lights on and the music still playing, taking only my keys and my jacket before closing the door behind me. Downstairs, I undid the latch and stood in front of the light blue waist-high gate, resting against the metal curlicues of decoration, smoothing my skirt against my thighs and concentrating on not being afraid. Sami came around the corner, and I smiled at him. When he was close to me he put one of his hands on my shoulder and leaned in, kissing my cheek. It felt nervous but right, his lips dry on my skin, but his hand warm though the fabric of my shirt.
“Hi, what’s up?”
He grinned. “This is where you live?”
“No, I live where you brought me before. My uncle lives here,” I opened the gate and we walked up the front steps.
“It’s a great building.” His voice was sincere.
“We’re on the third floor,” I said, and then felt his hand on the small of my back as we climbed to the first landing. The music murmured through the door of my uncle’s apartment. It was a loud song, and as I fed the key into the lock, I looked up at Sami’s face and watched him trying to decipher the music, his face serious in concentration, hands no longer touching me.
“Ready?” I said unnecessarily, and pushed the door open. Sami stood still for a moment, his eyes reading the room from right to left with its wooden floors, sleek leather couches, and the long table that stretched toward the stereo. I walked into the front hallway and he followed me, his steps slow.
“Your uncle has a lot of money,” he said as I shrugged off my fleece and hung it over the back of a chair.
I nodded. “He doesn’t have a family, so he keeps all of his money.”
“You’re his family.” We walked into the kitchen, and sat on the counter stools.
“But I’m not dependent on him,” I said. “I have my parents.”
“He doesn’t have to pay anything for his parents?”
“His father is dead, and his mother doesn’t really need anything from him.”
“Wow.” Sami was still looking around, taking everything in, and I felt both guilty and proud. The song that had been playing ended, and then a new song came on. It was ‘Soon.’
“What music is this?”
“It’s a trumpet player named Louis Armstrong and his band.” The brass section blasted a few notes, and Sami and I sat very still.
“A trumpet?” Sami asked.
“It’s an instrument made out of metal…You blow into it and press buttons to make it sound different?” I waited for him to nod his understanding and say the Arabic word, but his eyes were blank.
“What does it look like?”
I stood up and retrieved the album case from the bookshelf. On the cover a grinning Armstrong headed a V of musicians holding their instruments, his trumpet at his side, held loosely in one hand. I handed the case to Sami and pointed at the trumpet.
“That’s a trumpet. What’s the word in Arabic?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’ve seen one before, but we don’t use them in Arabic music.”
I took the case back and laid it on the counter.
“Do you play any instrument?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t really know anything about music.”
“You don’t listen to anything in the taxi?”
“I only listen to our music.”
“You mean in Arabic?” I tried not to let my voice show it, but I was shocked. Our music.
“Yes,” he said, and in the silence that came afterwards I felt the space between us beginning to grow. Then, quickly, he blurted, “But this is nice. What is it called?”
“Jazz. Big band jazz.” I stood up. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Do you have coffee?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, although I had never made coffee at my uncle’s apartment before, and wasn’t sure how to work his coffeemaker. I found the metal container of coffee in the refrigerator. There were a stack of filters next to the sink, and as I guessed a measurement Sami studied the newspaper that was rolled up on the counter in front of him. I heard him remove the rubber band and spread out the top page. Once I had poured some water and pressed the button to start the coffeemaker, I turned around and saw him leaning over the front page, his lips moving as he read the Hebrew slowly. The headline proclaimed the capture of a Hamas organizer in Gaza.
“The coffee will be ready in a minute.”
Sami nodded and continued reading, then stopped at the end of a line and looked up at me.
Celebrating 10 Years & Marking the End of An Amazing Project
Celebrating 10 Years & Marking the End of An Amazing Project
The people behind Jewrotica are quite quality! I have confidence that any project these folks take on will be equally quality.
I had a great time deejaying at the Jewrotica event at Columbia University. The live readings were hilarious, informative, and in some cases, deeply moving. I know that I, along with many of my AEPi fraternity brothers, loved being able to connect our Judaism and our sexuality in a way that made all of us feel comfortable and welcome. I look forward to being a part of this again in the future!
Jewrotica is awesome. It expands the mind and for people who were raised with narrow views on sexuality. Whether you are Jewish or not, or in different sects of Judaism like Orthodox, Conservative or Reform, no matter what your background or where you’re from, Jewrotica gets you to see Judaism and how it relates to sexuality in new ways. I really appreciate Ayo being here and helping us learn different ways to connect with our sexuality.
Jewrotica was everything I had dreamed of and more: sexy attendees, tantalizing confessions, and well-written literature to boot! More importantly, it empowers us Jews to reach inside and own our sexy selves and heritage!
While many people fear the “sex talk,” Jewrotica offers an opportunity for writers and audiences to speak about sexuality in a open and safe space. When I attended a Jewrotica reading, I heard stories that reminded me that love takes many forms, and that expressing it is a vital part of who we are as a people.
At Jewrotica’s Evening of Bedside Readings, students declaimed monologues on sexual encounters that had a Jewish twist. At Columbia/Barnard Hillel, the speakers pushed their own boundaries by performing a range of explicit narratives that challenged how the audience thought of the relationship to Judaism and sex. During the speakers’ preparation, the arguments about which narratives would be appropriate forced students to take a stand and voice their opinion on their own beliefs about Judaism an… Read more
Such an amazing experience! The Sarah Lawrence Jewrotica workshop was more than I could have ever expected – a comfortable, safe, sultry environment where participants clearly felt good about sharing or listening to each other’s intimate experiences and relating them to sexy stories from the Torah. From the moment the workshop began, Ayo had a sweet presence that was kinetic and spread around the room; her storytelling abilities had everyone enraptured and made the conversation topics relata… Read more
Jewrotica is a great way to ask interesting questions about the interplay between sensuality and Jewish wisdom. Check it out.
I love the inclusiveness – there is something for everyone, in and out of the Jewish community.
Jewrotica is inspiring Jews and erotica with holiness and coolness, and is the pride of progressive Judaism. Jewrotica – awesome!
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