Page 87 of Ceremony of Lust

For a moment, I’m surprised. Why would I shun anyone? And then I realized, I’m now the Chief Elder, and suicide is a sin in our community. “No,” I assure her. “Anton is my nephew. And Serge is my brother-in-law. Jacqueline will be buried in the family crypt with the other Landaus.”

“Thank you,” my father breathes out. “That’s a relief.”

My back presses against the chair because I’m stunned. My parents aren’t treating me like their son, or even like a member of their family. They’re looking at me like the Chief Elder. The discomfort makes me shiver, and then I look at my wife, who’s still in her sweet little dress with the white collar and cuffs. Is that how she sees me too?

“I should probably get your mother back home,” my father says gently, brushing a stray piece of hair from my mother’s face. She’s been sitting silently on the couch, sipping tea. The moment my father’s fingers brush against her, her eyes blink and her head turns slightly.

“Why don’t we all gather here in the morning and make the arrangements?” I suggest. “I’ll have breakfast catered from the café down the street.”

“That will be wonderful,” my mother says with a hint of a smile. “It’ll be nice to have everyone together. Thank you.”

My parents stand and walk over to Yael, who starts to get up and walk them to the door, but my father insists she sit and rest. They embrace and I notice my mother clinging to Yael a little longer than usual.

I follow them both to the front door. My father and I shake hands and he presses his hand against my shoulder before stepping out onto the porch, and my mother wraps me up like a child in a fierce hug. I kiss her cheek before my father reaches for her hand and leads her outside. I watch them get into their car and drive away, wondering what the death of my sister will mean for our family.

Inside the house, Yael is waiting for answers too. What does my new position mean for us? Does Jacqueline’s death change anything? My own fear prevents me from leaving the entryway long after my parents have gone. I don’t want to face her, not yet, not if her ultimate decision is to leave because I don’t know if I can convince her to stay.

“Zev.” Her small voice startles me, and when I look up, she’s standing near the stairs.

“Please don’t leave me,” I beg her.

“Come to bed,” she says.

It’s an order I willingly comply with because who knows how long I have until she decides being married to me is no longer worth it. I’ll take every moment I can with her, hoping I never have to see the day when she chooses to walk away.

48

Yael

How many timescan my life change in one day? I snicker slightly when I remember today is my birthday. How could I forget? It seems everyone else has.

Zev keeps his distance while I get ready for bed, but I feel his eyes on me the entire time. Their heat hits my back as I pull my dress over my head and I hear his sharp inhale as he watches me unclasp my bra.

I could tease him with my body. I could make him suffer just as he made me endure weeks of lonely nights. But I don’t have that sort of cruelty in me. Not when I’m struggling to rein in my own desires. I want to go to him. I want to feel his arms around me and his lips against mine. I want his comfort, and I want to reassure him because he has to be hurting. And if he came up behind me right now and slid his arms around my waist, I wouldn’t push him away. I’d welcome the brush of his kiss against my flesh and the press of his hands against my curves because I’m hurting too.

He made a monumental decision without me.

He shattered my trust with divorce papers he claims were a mistake.

And he forgot my birthday.

I know it’s selfish to think of something as trivial as a birthday right now, but I anticipated this day for months. I hoped it would be a celebration for us. Instead, we feel like perfect strangers.

Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t hear the shuffle of Zev’s feet on the carpet or the sound of his throat clearing. In fact, I don’t realize he’s standing behind me at all until I catch sight of him in the mirror.

Our eyes meet. “Yael,” he says solemnly. He’s still dressed all in black. His jacket is the only thing missing. In his hands, he’s holding a red box. “Happy Birthday,” he murmurs, extending it toward me.

I shift on my feet until I’m facing him, and my hands shake as I reach for the box. “I thought you had forgotten,” I admit.

His mouth tips up in an awkward smile. “How could I forget the day I met the love of my life?” I gasp and sway, but Zev is there with a steadying hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“It’s just been a long day,” I tell him.

He guides me to the bed, and I sit, holding the red box in my lap. What could be inside?

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asks.

“Considering everything that happened today, I feel selfish opening any kind of gift.”