Page 19 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
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The house was finished and Jakob had moved in, but he kept inventing excuses to require Emet’s help. He needed firewood collected and carried and chopped. He wanted a low stone wall built around the top of the hill. A cistern needed to be dug and lined with rocks, and then—because little rain fell this time of year—he required many buckets of water to be drawn from the well in the center of Mala Lubovnya and then toted up the path.
Rabbi Eleazar was no fool, and he no doubt saw through Jakob’s ruses. He’d lift an eyebrow and shake his head as Jakob explained his newest task, but then the rabbi would push Emet toward the door and say, “Work hard, Golem.”
Emetdidwork hard. He moved boulders and dug holes and carried water. But only for part of the day, because before the sun dipped too far, he and Jakob would stoke the fire, strip off their clothes, and lie together in Jakob’s bed. They discovered all the things their bodies could do together. And while Jakob still occasionally voiced his concerns about offending God, Emet was thankful for being made capable of such joy.
“You’re a miracle,” Jakob whispered to Emet one afternoon. Jakob was naked and sweaty underneath his thick quilts. Emet was naked too, and almost perfectly happy.
“I know,” Emet said. “Clay that walks and talks. A miracle indeed.”
“That’s not what I mean. The Torah says all men come from Adam, and he was made of dust. So you’re no more a miracle in that regard than I am, or anyone born of a man lying with a woman. I mean you’re a miracle because you’re so new, and you began so alone, yet you’ve taught me what love feels like.”
“I do love you, Jakob.”
“I know. You’re a miracleanda blessing.”
Emet still spent Shabbos and nights in the attic, but his room didn’t seem as empty anymore when his head was filled with memories of time spent with his beloved. And when the minyan gathered at sundown to sing the evening prayers, Emet could listen to Jakob’s voice and know that Jakob was singing not just for God but also for Emet.
The weather grew bitterly cold. Emet helped Jakob collect and deliver firewood to old people, some of whom complained it was the worst winter they’d endured, while others claimed the winters of their childhood were much worse. Mrs. Abramov trudged up the hill to inspect—and, happily, to approve—Jakob’s house and to deliver a new sweater for Jakob and a thick quilt for Emet. “Ach, it’s nothing,” she said when Emet thanked her for the blanket. But he could tell she’d taken great care to embroider it with colorful flowers.
She also brought a huge pot of stew and dumplings because, she said, Jakob was likely to waste away without a woman to cook for him. “At least you keep your house tidy,” she said as she inspected the shelves for dust.
“Emet cleans it for me. It keeps him busy.”
“You’re good boys,” she said, which made Jakob laugh and Emet duck his head.
Then it snowed for two days straight. Jakob didn’t come to fetch Emet, who fretted his way through a series of chores Rabbi Eleazar assigned him. “He’s by himself, Master,” Emet said as he moved the rabbi’s ancient and enormous desk.
Rabbi Eleazer bent to pick up paper and other bits of debris that had no doubt accumulated behind the desk for decades. “Jakob Abramov is a grown man. He can survive a little snow. He built his house tight and sturdy, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Of course he did. He’s a fine craftsman.” The rabbi peered speculatively at a broken quill pen. “He will be fine.”
Emet worried anyway.
The weather turned unseasonably warm and the snow melted. Jakob returned for him, smiling broadly and mumbling a nonsense excuse to the rabbi about why he needed the golem’s help. The rabbi sighed and flapped his hands at both of them. The road was a muddy, mushy mess, but neither Jakob nor Emet minded. They hurried up the hill and into Jakob’s house, tore off their clothing, and tumbled into bed, where they made up for lost time.
The sun shone for over a week, the days grew longer, and the promise of spring was supported by little bits of green in the fields and on the trees. Jakob said he would have to return to his regular work when the building season began, and he promised to ask his father if Emet might join them. “We won’t have so much time alone, but at least we’ll be together. When they see how hard you work and how helpful you are, I think they’ll welcome you.” He grinned. “If Papa is reluctant, I think Mama might help me argue our case. He doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
But as it turned out, the promise of spring was false. The skies darkened and the air again chilled. Sleet fell fitfully for days, making the cobblestones hazardous, and people ventured out as little as possible. Emet and Jakob still walked to Jakob’s house, but Jakob exclaimed when Emet got into bed with frozen feet, and the next day he presented Emet with a pair of shoes. “The shoemaker is my uncle. I had to beg him to finish them quickly, and he says they probably won’t last long. But I can get you a better pair later. Do they fit? I had to guess your size.”
Emet smiled as he put them on. They were small on him and pinched his toes a bit, but he was still delighted. “They’re perfect, Jakob.” Then he thought of something that made him frown. “You’ve given me so much, and your mother too, and I have no gifts for you.”
“You’ve done a dozen men’s work for me for months, Emet.”
“That’s my duty.”
“But you’ve given me your love as well, and that’s the finest gift I could ask for. I wouldn’t trade a king’s treasury of gold for it.”
So Emet wore his too-small shoes and a patchwork cloak and felt better dressed than any nobleman.
“I didn’t hearyou sing last night,” Emet said as they walked up the hill. The clouds had fled, but the temperature was still very cold.
Little puffs of moisture escaped from Jakob’s mouth when he spoke. “My throat was a little scratchy, so I decided to rest it. I didn’t want my brothers reporting to Mama that I was hoarse—she’d smother me with ointments and teas.”
“She told me you almost died when you were a baby.”
