AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not on my watch. Boy genius is going to learn the word delegation.
When he starts speaking, I barely hear him over the patter of the rain.
“Elias Baush. Naomi Baush. Rebecca Baush.Of blessed memory.”
At first, I think he’s gone back to reciting the names from the list of victims of hate crimes. Then I realize they all share his last name.
“They were my family.”
“Eli,” I start.
“Don’t say anything, please. I never talk about this. I-I’m not sure I can, so I need you to let me tell you about them.”
I run my hand over his back in a silent agreement to stay quiet.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then he starts speaking.
“Rebecca was my sister. And I think if she would have lived, she would have grown up to be an artist. Everything she wore and every piece in her room had to be colorful and of her own design. She was always cutting her own hair in asymmetrical patterns and refused to wear her school uniform without adding rhinestones or silk to jazz it up.” Eli lets out a short, dry laugh. “It drove my parents crazy.”
He falls into silence again. Then he shifts slightly on his side so he can look up at me. “I guess I was easier for them. The child they understood. My father was an aerospace engineer and my mother was a geneticist. When I showed signs of being a prodigy, they made sure I had access to the best resources and placed me on a stringent academic course. They never came right out and said it, but I think they had dreams of me being the youngest recipient of the Field’s Medal in Mathematics.”
I’m not sure what that is, but I’m guessing it’s the smart person’s way of being legendary.
“I was okay with that plan until I was fifteen. By that time, I was close to receiving my PhD in Theoretical Mathematics, and while not exactly burned out, I was craving more than textbooks and professorial consults filling up my time.”
So despite his ten-pound brain, Eli was probably like any other teenager, horny and restless and looking for some fun, the kind his parents didn’t approve of.
“There was this online gaming tournament I became interested in. Though my parents didn’t approve of the distraction gaming had on my studies, I played anyway. I loved it and became close to one of my opponents. His name was Jesse, and I think he was my first real crush.” I can feel a small smile against me. “You were my second.”
A little thrill goes through me at his words, and I rub his shoulders in acknowledgment.
“Anyway,” he lets out a long, rattling sigh. “There was a big, in-person tournament where I was finally going to meet Jesse for the first time. The only problem was that it fell on the first day of Sukkot, a week-long Jewish holiday. I’d begged my parents to let me skip going to temple that night, but they refused.
“The night of the Sukkot, as my family prepared for the holiday, I came out of my room and refused to attend. If I couldn’t go to the tournament, then I wouldn’t go with them to the synagogue. A huge fight ensued, and I said terrible things. How they were terrible parents, and they didn’t love me. They just wanted me to go to temple so they could cart around their prodigy son as some kind of status symbol. I made my mother cry.”
I can’t help it. I break my promise of silence. “You didn’t mean it.”
“I didn’t,” he says, pure despair in his voice. “But I'll never know if they knew that. The way my Aba—” He notices my confused face at the word. “It’s what many Jews call their father,” he explains before continuing. “I can see my Aba’s angry face as he left and my Ima’s—” He looks to me, ready to explain.
“Your Mother?”
He nods. “I can still feel her disappointed caress of my face as she passed me to leave.” He lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “And the pain of Rebecca’s kick on my shin as punishment for making our mother cry.”
My heart aches to see him so wrecked.
“Ten minutes after they left the apartment, I came to my senses and went after them. I was almost to temple. I could see them ahead of me, opening the blue door and going into the building. The gaudy beanie my sister was wearing was the last glimpse I had of them the before the building burst into flames.”
I’d known his story had to have this kind of ending. It all made perfect sense now. His manic, never-ending quest to end hate crimes.
“Who?” I ask gently.
“It was a small anti-Zionist sect that planted the bombs.”
“Bombs?”
“They’d planted bombs in several temples across New York, but the bomb in our temple was the only one that detonated. Even then, the fuckers screwed up. It wasn’t supposed to detonate for another hour. I would have had the chance to tell them I was sorry. I would have been with them.” Huge sobs start racking his body. “Every day I wish I’d been in that building with them. Every day.”
I hold him vise-like in my arms, trying to offer any comfort I can, while being grateful that he hadn’t been with his family. That right now he is here, in my arms.
