2 I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
3 I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
4 My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him.
5 I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left... he was gone.
-The Song of Songs, Chapter 5
1st Av 5775 - I slept but my heart was awake
Asher had been sitting in the bath for the better part of two hours when the knock came. The water had long since become tepid, his skin wrinkled as too much liquid passed the boundary of his skin. He watched the tap drip, slowly adding more and more water to the tub.
The knock came again.
Deep down, Asher knew that he should get out of the bath and answer the door. Put on his bath robe, brush his teeth, and go to bed. He should get up tomorrow morning bright and early, shave, get some fresh coffee and apply for a new job. And he should start this moment by getting up, and opening the door.
But he didn’t. His body refused to respond to the signals he was sure his brain was sending.
Come on, you lazy shit! Get out of the bath. You hardly ever spoke to the guy. Just because he was your father. Get out the stupid, fucking bath and get on with your life.
Asher didn’t move. He watched a ripple of water extend from his big toe, protruding above the surface of the water. Tiny breakers ebbing and flowing, intersecting and dividing each other.
The news had come earlier that night, a hurried email from his mother in Netanya - “Your father is dead, don’t know how. I’m flying out to London to deal with it. Call you ASAP. Lots of love, Mum.” And that was it.
He began to hum a melody to himself “The water flows, the tide goes but no one knows, oh oh oh, no one knows...” Asher hummed a few experimental bars and then forget them.
Another knock, louder this time, even more insistent.
Still Asher did not rise. There simply was no point. It was probably the super of the building wanting to adjust the radiators or inspect the apartment or just make sure that Asher was still alive. No one else ever knocked. It could wait.
He looked at his watch that he’d left on the floor beside him. It was five to three in the morning. It was unlike the super to come by so late. Well, he has my number, Asher thought. He’ll call me if it’s really important.
After five minutes of silence, when the knock did not return, Asher relaxed. Nothing to worry about.
And then a massive hole was torn out of the wall.
