Page 7 of Ceremony of Lust
My legs and armpits are easy enough, but the thatch of dark hair between my legs is difficult. It seems odd to be using a razor on the most intimate places of my body, but it’s a part of the ritual and must be done.
There are ten steps in total, and the rest of them are as tedious as the first three. It feels as if I’ve been in this room for hours when I finally slip on the robe and enter the Purification Chamber.
The same assistant sits in a chair, waiting. When she sees me, she pops up. “Did you complete every step?”
I nod my head.
“Take off your robe.”
My fingers shake as I untie the sash around my waist and shrug off the garment, letting it fall to the floor. She approaches me and runs her hand over my shoulders and down my back. She lifts strands of my hair and examines the newly trimmed ends. “Hands,” she orders. I hold out my hands for her to inspect. She hums but says nothing.
And then she kneels in front of me and parts my thighs with icy hands.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Making sure you followed every step.”
I jump back, away from her, and use my hand to cover myself. “I did! I said I did!”
“Yael, this is a part of the Purification Ritual. If your husband doubts your purity, then your marriage may be ruled invalid, and you will be shunned.”
When I don’t budge, she sighs and throws up her hand. “Fine. Be difficult. Hadassah will see to it you are waxed properly before your wedding.” She points at the square pool in the middle of the room. “Do you know the words?”
“I think so,” I mumble.
“Then begin.”
I shuffle to the steps and walk into the water. It’s shockingly cold, but I cannot turn back; I must continue forward. When the water reaches the bottom of my breasts, I stop and face the assistant.
“I cleanse myself of my youth,” I recite before plunging myself into the icy water.
“I cleanse myself of all my sins, which are many.” I sink beneath the surface with each line I say. “I cleanse and purify my body for my husband. May his kindness and justice redeem me from any past wickedness.”
The assistant murmurs something and nods her head in my direction. I suck in a breath and let my body sink deep into the frigid depths. I stay under for as long as possible until my lungs burn.
When I pop back up, the assistant is waiting near the steps with my robe. I slip it on, my teeth chattering, and tie the belt tightly around my waist.
“Now for your interview,” she says, leading me through another doorway.
I am greeted by the stern looks of the Elders, all seated behind a white table, all dressed in severe black robes. They are my final judgment. The door closes loudly, and any chance of escape is long gone. There is no turning back.
4
Zev
At eighteen,I was able to leave Ripley and attend college. When I turned twenty-two, I returned to participate in my first Match Ceremony. I was a scrawny, nervous kid who pleaded with every single god not to be chosen. I was not ready to be a husband or have a family. When my name wasn’t called, I returned to the city and celebrated. I had been given my freedom. Every time my name was not called during a Match Ceremony, I immediately left Ripley and found some way to celebrate my continued independence. Most often, I stumbled upon some bar and ended the night between the legs of a woman.
Today, things are going to change. I can feel it in my bones the moment I wake up. The eyes of Hadassah cannot ignore me forever.
I do my best to treat the day as any other, but it’s hard not to think about anything but tonight’s event.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door, no doubt my mother.
“Zev, are you home?” The handle shakes, and then the door opens. My mother appears in the doorway. “I thought I heard you come in last night, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“Good morning,” I greet her as I sit up.
She steps into the room and rushes forward to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to have you home, Zev. I look forward to every Match Ceremony if only because it means you’re back under my roof for one night. Breakfast is waiting for you, as is your father.”