Teshuva, Tefila, Tzedaka – A Lover’s Guide From Rosh HaShana to Yom Kippur (Part 1 of 3)

Prev2 of 3Next
Use your ← → (arrow) keys to browse

A192 RoshHashanah I

Two weeks later, Malka was driving back from the airport with a smiling Hannah sitting beside her.

“So… you escaped your parents.”

“Only because of the promise of a grandson.”

“You do realize that, even with my magic-ness and prowess, I can’t actually give your parents grandchildren, right, dear?”

“But my parents don’t know that, dear,” she quipped back.

A few minutes of silence passed, broken by Hanna’s prodding.

“Are you gonna tell me how your trip to Israel went?”

“No,” she answered curtly. Hannah had asked that question many times before over the phone, and every single time Malka managed to dodge giving an answer.

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do, I do, tell me!”

“Do be quiet, dear, I’m trying to drive.”

“How can I be quiet during a conversation? It would defeat the whole purpose!”

“Maybe when you stop having the gossip drive of a teenager, we can have a normal conversation again.”

“Tell me! Did you meet a pretty boy?”

“I did,” opting to go with the truth.

“Oh,” Hannah said, sitting back on the passenger’s seat, deflated. She turned to face the window and uttered no more words.

“I told you you didn’t want to know.”


“I wasn’t aware I had to explain myself. Actually, I wasn’t even aware I was in a relationship with you.”

“I see.”

Malka felt uncomfortable as she usually did whenever she was at loss for words. Was she supposed to justify her behaviour? Last time she checked, she was a free woman. That didn’t stop that nagging feeling constraining her chest.

They arrived to Malka’s building and unloaded the luggage without a single word spoken between them. When the silence was unbearable, Malka decided to stop thinking and follow her instincts.


“Yes?” She said, avoiding her gaze.

“I’m sorry.”


“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she sighed, running her hands through her dark hair. “This is hard for me. I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“So we are in a relationship,” Hannah said, finally facing her.

“Why do I get the feeling we are having the same conversation time and time again?”

“Because we are, Malka. Just say you’re happy to see me and we won’t have to discuss this again. At least for a few days.”

“I am happy to see you,” she said, closing the space between them and kissing her passionately, leaving them both breathless.


“I’m still mad at you,” Hannah said, picking her shirt from the bedroom floor and covering her naked body with it. She sat on the bed looking at her clothes, now perfectly arranged on a shelf Malka emptied for her.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, because my hardly obtained closet order is now ruined in order for you to have some space—”

“Which I appreciate a lot and thanked you properly…”

“And secondly,” she continued, ignoring the interruption, “because of the spirit of the holidays and all that. You have to forgive me or you’ll spend the rest of your life in hell.”

“I’m sure that’s not what happens.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“You still have to ask for forgiveness two more times before I am obligated to give it to you.”

“Not in your life, Hannah, pick your battles.”

“We’ll see.”


“You don’t have to go to work?” Hannah asked the next morning, nibbling toast while Malka ate a fruit salad leisurely.

“I asked for a leave of absence,” she mumbled, but Hannah heard all the same if the smile on her face was something to go by. “Don’t read too much into it, I haven’t taken a free day in years.”

“So you decided to spend your accumulated time with me,” she said, her smile still on.

“Wasn’t that the idea?” Malka was starting to feel annoyed by Hannah’s excessive cheerfulness. It was not that important.

“Actually, I was kind of sure I’d have you only in the evenings. But this makes everything easier! Now I don’t have to haul your behind out of that office.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I told you, I have some persuasion to do!”

“Do you, now?”

“Yes,” she nodded solemnly. “You, my lady, will get the full mystical experience.”

“Hah. Never took you for a Boyzone fan.”

“Actually, I enjoy Enrique Iglesias’ version. ‘experiencia releehiohsa’”, she says, rolling her r’s and pronouncing it far from accurate.

“That is wrong on so many levels I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Don’t complain; you’ll enjoy it.”

“I fail to see how you can possibly know that.”

“Will you give me at least the benefit of the doubt?”


Continue reading…

Prev2 of 3Next
Use your ← → (arrow) keys to browse

Dirty Di has the stuff that you want; she is the thing that you need. So if you're feeling devious, and looking glamorous, let’s get mischievous and polyamorous, because you live only once, so be sure you got it right. And if you don't, try again.