Interview With a Jewish Vampire (35 page)

Charlene gazed down at her. “They say golems have no soul, but her devotion to Sheldon seemed pretty soulful. Yes, let’s leave her there. She must weigh 300 pounds and I’m not about to throw my back out getting her up.”

I was shivering in the chilly fall night air, sitting on a tiny plastic folding chair that didn’t support my entire rear end, under a huge tent at the Woodstock Jewish Congregation’s High Holy Days Services. Sheldon was sitting next to me, not shivering, a beatific expression on his face. I realized he hadn’t worshipped in a synagogue since the nineteenth century. I glanced around and noticed that everyone was wearing white, which is what you’re supposed to wear on Yom Kippur, while I was wearing a peasant dress with a loud pattern. Why the hell couldn’t I have worn something white, or at least beige? I mentally surveyed my closet and noticed some white garments I overlooked, upset about my sartorial faux pas. Sheldon was dressed in full Hasidic garb, with a long beard that he let grow for the holidays. He didn’t exactly fit in among these hippie types, many of whom were wearing white jeans, but I noticed he was getting a lot of admiring stares. He looked remarkably handsome and imposing.

Over a thousand people were singing, swaying and praying, raising a storm of atonement although not much body heat. Rabbi Jonathan, a youthful folk singing incarnation of a charismatic rabbi along the lines of the Bal Shem Tov, led us in singing rounds, one section of the tent at a time. It was like a Jewish tent revival. We sang “Avinu Malkenu,” and I started weeping. I decided I was crying for happiness because Sheldon and I were finally praying together, at a shul that couldn’t care less about our inter-life relationship or religious choices. We got up and started singing with our arms around the people in our row. I had no idea who they were but felt grateful to them for accepting us.

The Woodstock Jewish Congregation had been Shmuley’s suggestion. Sheldon had asked him where we could
davven
together. “We need a synagogue that will accept us. Rhoda is not going sit behind a
mehitza
.”

“
Have I got a shul for you,” Shmuley had announced in his most authoritative voice. “This congregation takes everyone, from gays to Buddhists to transsexuals to Catholics—no questions asked. Vampires will be no big deal to them. Check out wjcshul.org. Their High Holy Day services are awesome.”

He was certainly right about that.

After the service we went back to our room at the Inn on the Millstream, a lovely little bed and breakfast in Woodstock with a wide lawn, and comfy Adirondack chairs facing the rocky stream that runs through town. I got to eat two breakfasts, which wasn’t good for my diet but the food was delicious. We’d rented a car to get up here since it was a bit too far to fly, and brought heavy curtains for the windows so Sheldon could sleep. He could only come to night services, which was a shame, but it was better than nothing—Erev Roshashana, Kol Nidre, and Neilah service after Yom Kippur were inspiring, especially Neilah
, where we sang and swayed, lit aromatic herbs and wafted the smoke around, and listened to a multitude of shofars being blown.

“
Sheldon, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked him when we got back to our room

“
You mean about what position we should do it in? Where we should do it? How about outside in the woods? We’ve never done that before.”

“
You have a one-track mind, like all men. Reb Shmuley would be proud of you. No that’s not what I mean. I mean that we should move here. We’d have a synagogue that welcomes us, and we could buy a farm and keep animals for you and for visiting vampires. We’re close enough to New York, so we could charge for feeding, plus you could get certified to declare the meat kosher and then we could sell it—just like they do in Florida. Might be a good business. We could be change facilitators too, providing a coffin and burial plot, and feeding after the change. All for a price, of course.”

“
Rhoda, I’m a diamond cutter not a butcher.”

“
We’ll figure that out later. What do you think of moving? We could buy a house. No more tiny apartments.”

“
Wouldn’t you miss Charlene? And your other friends?” he asked.

“
She’ll come to visit, and I’ll make new friends. We both will. These old hippies will accept us for the odd couple we are.”

“
I’ll think about it,” Sheldon said. That was good enough for me at the moment. I’d learned from The Rules to leave well enough alone. He was not given to impulsive decisions like me—he had to think about things for a long time first. Of course, he was used to having a long time.

After seeing Shmuley we had started spending more time together, because now there was a tenth—human—man to make a
minyan
, but we still weren’t living together. I had been going to his place and sometimes he came to mine. Sheldon was still the rabbi for his vampire
minyan
and he wanted to show up occasionally. Plus he felt terrible about Goldie, whom he had upended and put in her customary unanimated place in the corner. I insisted he turn her to the wall.

“
She was such a good golem,” he would intone solemnly every once in a while, with a gloomy expression. I ignored him because I remembered how menacing she’d been to me. I wanted to be with Sheldon all the time but I didn’t want to travel to Crown Heights so often, although we’d gotten into the habit of him flying to Manhattan to get me. Woodstock was a solution that might work for both of us.

“
I heard from Mom yesterday, by the way,” I told him while we were lying in bed at The Millstream. “She said she wants to come to visit but where is she going to stay? I don’t have room for her and no way she’d stay in Crown Heights. She wants to do the town in Manhattan. Concerts, theatre, museums. Some museums have night hours now.”

Since we’d rescued her, Mom was doing pretty well. She went to Fort Lauderdale B.A. regularly and Tess reported to us weekly about her progress. She was the star of vampire rehab because it involved a lot of group work and Mom knew how to work a room. In a social situation she was at her best—plus the younger vampires got a big kick out of her and Miriam. They became pets again, but in a good way. Mom still talked about finding a young boyfriend, though, and that was worrisome. I just put it out of my mind.

“
Where will she stay if we move up here?” he asked.

That proved Sheldon was at least considering it. “We’d keep my apartment in the City. It’s not that expensive. Well, it is that expensive but we can sublet it.”

“
Let’s talk about this later. Take a walk with me by the stream.”

It was a balmy night in early September so we strolled down to the water and sauntered along the rocks. There was a big flat rock right in the middle of the rushing waters and Sheldon jumped over to it. As soon as we got there he started pulling my jeans down and my t-shirt off.

“
Sheldon, this is public. Someone could see us.”

“
It’s midnight, it’s Woodstock, no one will care. It’s a moonless night.”

It was incredibly exciting to be totally naked, both of us, in the middle of nature with water roaring around us. Sheldon lay me gently on the rock but made sure to hold my hips up as he entered me, managing to keep my whole body elevated a little so I wouldn’t get battered on the hard surface. I was making love while floating. He kissed me deeply over and over, the sound of the water adding to the intensity of our lovemaking until after a while I felt like I was being carried downstream while being caressed all over. We made love on that rock for a long time, until I was exhausted. After it was over we both lay on our backs, holding hands, looking at the starry sky.

I was stunned when he leaned over me and said, “Darling, I will make you a vampire if it means you will be mine forever.” Now I finally knew, without any reservations, that we were
beshert
, meant to be together.

About the author

Erica Manfred is a freelance journalist, humorous essayist, and author of two non-fiction self-help books, the most recent being
He’s History You’re Not; Surviving Divorce After Forty
, published by Globe Pequot Press in 2009. Her articles and essays have appeared in
Cosmopolitan, The New York Times Magazine, Ms, New Age Journal, New York Newsday
,
Village Voice, Woman’s Day, SELF, Ladies Home Journal,
and many other publications. Erica lives in Woodstock, New York with her dog, Shadow. Brought up by Jewish parents who spoke Yiddish but avoided religion, she received her Jewish education at the Woodstock Jewish Congregation, which welcomes Jews from all backgrounds, from atheist to Orthodox.

Visit her at
www.ericamanfred.com

Email her at 
[email protected]