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Anneliese's apartment in Frankford is on the small side - not surprising, considering she lives alone on a bartender's wages, but still nice enough. She keeps it fairly tidy, too - almost, but not quite minimalist. There's a few pieces of wall art, but nothing particularly unusual - landscapes, mostly.
Aaron rides SEPTA religiously, pun intended. Once he's reached the end of the Frankford line, he makes the hike to Annie's address and buzzes into the building. Before long he's knocking at the door to her apartment, his go bag slung over one shoulder. He's wearing a suit and dress shirt, though the tie is missing and his collar is unbuttoned. Probably came directly from his responsibilities to come visit.
The door is quickly opened to reveal a smiling Anneliese, dressed in a green teeshirt - this one saying "I Support Women and Cis Women" - and black jeans. "Hello, Aaron. How have you been? Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Ha! Nice shirt." Aaron smiles lopsidedly at the Big Reveal, clearly and genuinely amused. "Busier than I'd like, happier than I deserve. So I can't complain. How about yourself? Water is fine, thank you. Had a bit of a walk from Frankford Station."
"Good, thank you. Feel free to grab a seat." She waves to the small seating area - containing a pair of chairs and a two-person couch - before ducking into what passes for her kitchen, emerging a minute or two later with two glasses, both about two-thirds full of water.
Aaron unslings his back pack and sets it down next to one of the chairs, then slips out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of the other chair. He then seats himself in the first and unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. He rolls them up to his elbows before taking his glass from Anneliese and giving her a smile. "Thank you. Sounds like I missed quite a show outside of the museum."
She nods, sitting on the far end of the couch, curling her legs up underneath her. "It was rather dramatic, yes. Thankfully nobody got injured, no thanks to the police." She takes a sip of her water before continuing. "What happened inside? I heard the stagehands decided to walk out, but not much detail."
"I'm afraid anything I may or may not know about the local's activities I'd want to keep to myself for their sake until I hear otherwise from them. From what I understand, they really stepped out. Put themselves at risk, I mean to say." Aaron takes another quick gulp of the glass, then just opts to finish it off, setting the empty aside on the end table. On a coaster. Because that's how he rolls. "Miss Jennings announced the start of the event, and asked us to get to our seats. Round about then, Joey Merlino walked in. Who, if you don't know, is the alleged head of the Italian mafia here in Philly. Then the lights came up, the mics cut out, and Miss Jennings returned to the stage and said the local struck and the event was going to have to be postponed. Then everyone filed out."
"Of course. My lips are sealed, but better safe than sorry, and so forth." She doesn't look at all surprised to learn that Merlino is - allegedly - in charge of the local Italian mafia. "He tried to get the protest out front declared an unlawful assembly, too. Almost worked, but for reminders of what being caught on film carrying out that sort of thing can do to cop reputations. Not that the ones here have much reputation to speak of, anyway."
There's a knowing crook of a smile at the mention of being caught on film. He lets out a small chuff of amusement at that, nodding his head agreeably. "In pursuit of peace, the light of truth is the best tool in the box. I wish I'd been outside, and might have involved myself but for my ties to the mayor's office. A giant affluent Jewish politico in a suit and tie talking about civil restraint is not what that audience wanted to hear. And rightfully so, mind you. I'm proud of all of you for stopping the event. And for holding back the police. And for making it out safely. Honestly, it's nothing short of a miracle what you all achieved."
"However right the message, it is nothing without the right speaker, and the right audience to hear it." Anneliese says softly. "If I knew who was responsible for holding back the police, I would pass on your thanks, but of course I was only there in a support capacity."
"It was a team effort," Aaron assures her, as though he knows it for a fact. "I doubt anyone involved in that protest would want to claim sole credit, anyway. Solidarity doesn't tend to breed ego." He relaxes back into his chair, letting out a long and quiet sigh. "It does make me wonder why Merlino was there in the first place. Doesn't really seem his scene. Fashion, I mean. He's a black adidas track suit and gold chains sort of guy."
"Solidarity and ego are outright inimical to each other, in my experience." Anneliese says, pausing to sip from her glass before continuing. "Could be that one of his companies, or one he knows people involved with, is getting kickbacks somewhere along the chain."
"I don't know much about how the mob operates. But I know the electrician's local went down for corruption with the mob a while back. Caused a shake up on the council. So that seems a likely possibility. It's a shame, if so. This was one of the better charity events in the city. And this year it just went entirely sideways." His expression grows a bit sad at this admission. "I just hope the event itself recovers. I may see if I can't get my hands on the organizational documents for the nonprofit behind it all. I'm interested in knowing who the stakeholders are. Legally speaking."
"Good luck with that." She says seriously, before hesitating for a moment, chewing on her lip in thought. "I might talk to some acquaintances of mine, see if there would be interest in putting on an alternative show, run by the designers or their representatives."
"Now that's a fantastic idea. They have collections ready to walk, models that need a paycheck. I doubt we could make it as high profile as this one. But you could easily reserve time at Love Park and do an outdoor show. Weather permitting, and all that." Aaron points her way and adds, "That's a really great idea. Seriously." He plucks up his glass and carries it towards the kitchen, bussing his own mess.
"A two-pronged attack, then? My friends and I organise an alternative show, dedicated to a legitimate charity, you look into who is behind the scenes of the official one?" She finishes off her own glass, leaving it on the coffee table while waiting for Aaron to emerge from the kitchen once more, since it just isn't big enough to comfortably fit two people at once.
He returns in short order, settling himself back into his seat. "I don't know that I'll be able to discover who is behind the scenes. But I can definitely pull their articles of incorporation. And tell you who is legally responsible for the charity. Whoever those people are will know who is behind the scenes, though. And your sleuths and snoops can look into that on their own time. My skillset is... entirely legitimate." He's such a square.
Anneliese nods. "Perfect reasonable, and the work you do is no less valuable for it being less glamourous." She stands, taking her glass into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder to add. "How are things at Rodeph Sholom, by the way?"
"Gearing up for Passover. The spread is going to be great this year. We're getting Pumpernick's to cater. I'm doing three b'nei mitzvot on shabbos. There's a wedding this week, too. Got a refuah shelemah list a mile long, though, and Abe Reimer passed away. 92." His life is one long series of other people's Jewish life events. But he's smiling about it. Even about old Abe. "May we all be so lucky."
"May his memory be a blessing." The benediction is instinctive, even if she didn't know Abe. "Anyone I know in the b'nei mitzvot, or the wedding?" Anneliese emerges from the kitchen as she asks that, retaking her seat with a smile.
"Abby Goldman, Greg Abramson, and Kyle Cavanaugh are the kids. Don't know if you know the Cavanaughs, they moved here a short while back from California. Carla Berkowicz and Lewis Greene are the happy couple." How Aaron commits all of these names to memory is anyone's guess, but he's always quick with a name or seven. "If you're looking for a free meal, I can totally list you as a vital assistant to the Rabbi and sneak you in under my tallis. That's one of the perks of my job, I almost never have to cook for myself."
"Thank you for the offer, but I am providing for myself fine." A chuckle. "Though I do not know the Cavanaughs, no. How have they been adjusting to the change? I know that age can be a difficult time, let alone when moving across the country."
"There was a concern about Kyle's Bar Mitzvah. But I reached out to their cantor out in Glendale and we matched dates and he told me where Kyle was in learning his parsha and all that. I tried to make it as painless as possible. We're wired for AV, so I'm going to make sure the congregation out there can stream it if they want to, or at least watch it on video. His father is in the Navy, so they bounce around quite a bit. He's a smart kid. A tough kid. But I think the toughness is learned, if you follow me. It's hard, like you said. Bouncing around at that age."
Anneliese nods sympathetically. "Well, I hope it goes well. Reaching out to their former congregation so they can at least see it, even if not participate, is a kind move. How are the other two doing with their preparations?"
"Good. Very good. They're nervous, of course. They always are. But I assured them that two rabbis, a cantor, a junior cantor, the congregation president, their rebbes from the Hebrew School, and everyone important in their lives are going to be watching them intently while they stand over a Torah they can't drop or touch, so don't be nervous." Aaron's eyes glimmer at this joke, his crows feet doing charming things to his features in the process. His smile is straight up mercurial.
"And of course that soothed their nerves tremendously." Anneliese snickers. "I was much the same way when it came time for mine, though, so I suppose I cannot blame them for worrying." She grins at Aaron. "Which I will of course deny if anyone not approaching that time in their live asks."
"It makes them laugh. And the laughter dispels the nervousness. They can sight read. They know the cadence, too. They've recited it dozens of times by now. And I'll be right beside each of them to coach them along if they stumble. They've already done what they need to do in my office numerous times. The ceremony is for their family to see what they've already achieved, not to achieve something in front of their family. And then it's over, and they're eating cake and drinking iced tea and handing me a box full of monogramed kippot like I don't have seventeen boxes of them hidden in the congregation basement already. The best part is, I know I'll see two of them again after it's all over. The Cavanaugh boy isn't well settled yet, but the other two are really involved in the Youth Choir. L'Takein. And so on."
A nod. "How is the Youth Choir going? Any interesting news there?" She pauses for a moment, chewing on her lip. "Or in your own life?"
"I'm not too involved in the choir, that's more the junior cantor's department. But the kids seem happy, if not overly gifted musically. What they lack in pitch control, they more than make up for in raw enthusiasm. So. That's always fun." Aaron then puffs out his cheeks and lets out a profound sigh. "My own life?" What is that even? "That's. That's a good question."
"Well, enjoying music is a good thing, even if they are not especially talented. Who knows? One of them may turn out to be a future cantor." The sigh gets a sympathetic look. "No plans for a Mrs Rabbi Cohen, then? Or a Mr?"
"You've been speaking to my parents, I see." Aaron cracks the joke, but it's done without his usual penchant for obvious externalized mirth. It's not that he's uncomfortable, precisely, with this topic. It's just that he's unused to having it. "I always imagined I'd be married some day. That I'd meet someone. And that whole storybook thing would happen, and magically I'd be happy for the rest of my life. Made it through college, grad school, and my doctorate program. Got my job at Rodeph Sholom. The years just sort of went by. And it never happened. Never came close to happening."
"Maybe I'm ace and I just haven't admitted it to myself. Maybe it's just a question of priorities. Maybe I haven't met the right person yet. Or I have, and they haven't smacked me in the head. I think I was being flirted with by someone recently, and I didn't pick up on it until days later in the shower. And I was like. Oh. They were flirting with me. They're way younger than me, though." His shoulders hunch in a shrug. "My wants don't feature much into my daily life, if I'm being honest. I make other people's needs my wants, and it sustains me spiritually. I don't feel like I'm missing anything until I go home to an empty apartment. Chewda Maccabee notwithstanding."
She nods slowly. "Realising that your sexuality is not what you thought can be a difficult process, even when aware of the option." She hesitates for a moment. "Do you want something stiffer to drink for this discussion, or would you prefer to drop the topic?"
"I don't mind the topic," Aaron states manner of factly, "I'm not ashamed of how I've lived my life. On the contrary. I'm extraordinarily proud of what I've achieved with it so far. But I wouldn't turn down a glass of something good." Aaron stretches a bit and continues, "It doesn't help that I'm a rabbi. Most of the people I deal with on a daily basis view me as an authority figure or a confidante. Those outside of the faith view me as a religious nut, or an eccentric. So it's been twenty years of not initiating flirting for ethical reasons. And I've just taught myself not to. And then few if any tried. Then there's the fact that modern dating tends towards casual sex and non-monogamy. I'm definitely an outlier in the queer community in that regard."
Anneliese nods again. "Well, at least you have Chewda to keep you company at home, and friends to spend time with outside it?" She stretches slightly, shifting position on the couch before continuing. "Have you considered looking into adoption, if you want more company at home?"
"I am up at 5am and rarely home before 8pm. Which, when I put it that way, may have something to do with my eligible bachelor status. But those hours aren't conducive to raising a child as a single parent. I have the kids at the Hebrew School, and the kids at the Attic. I do my best for them and by them, and it scratches that itch. I think I'd be a good father, though, at the risk of sounding arrogant. And if I ever settle down with someone who can't reproduce with me for whatever reason, I'd be happy to adopt. Just to be clear. Not against adoption. Just not in a position to be the only adult in a child's life."
"Sensible enough." She agrees. "How are things at the Attic?" This should be a safer topic, at least, considering that Anneliese has no intention of flirting with Aaron. Because, well, like he said. She views him as a confidante. Also she's not into men.
The odds of him having opened up like this if he thought the situation were otherwise were slim to none, so that stands to reason. "Stressful. I'm there as purely an advisor. I don't have any clinical credentials, just training as a crisis councilor and such through the URJ. But I help talk to the kids, particularly the kids dealing with religious parents who are intolerant. Give them the other side of the theology. Or setting theology aside to just be a religious person who gets them. Accepts them. But it's a LGBT youth center. With all that entails. It can be pretty rough sometimes."
"Well, every little bit helps." She sighs. "I do wish it was not necessary, but. At least having it lets them see that not everyone is a jerk, that they can have their faith and their sexuality, or gender." Something Anneliese herself has been trying to help someone with recently, if with even less relevant training than Aaron. "Or both, of course." She gestures at the one piece of wall art that isn't a landscape - a magen david, each line one of the colours of the rainbow flag.
Aaron glances at the star of David, and it clearly touches him. He of the rainbow kippah. He looks back to her and that crows feet crinkling smile is back in place. "Happy Trans Day of Visibility, by the way. On that topic."
"Alas, for it is the one day of the year where I do not get to be gay and do crimes." She grins at him. "But thank you. The acceptance that is so easily found nowadays makes me glad, even if there is still a long way to go."
Aaron pulls out his phone at this point. Which is a rarity. He never pulls out a phone during conversation with people. But he taps at the screen a bit, loads up Sefaria, and runs his thumb around a bit. "I'd like to read you a poem, if I could. Written in Provence, France in 1323. Attributed to the name Kalonymous ben Kalonymous."
He begins:
"What an awful fate for my mother
that she bore a son. What a loss of all benefit!...
Cursed be the one who announced to my father: “It’s a boy!”...
Woe to him who has male sons.
Upon them a heavy yoke has been placed, restrictions and constraints.
Some in private, some in public,
some to avoid the mere appearance of violation,
and some entering the most secret of places.
Strong statutes and awesome commandments,
six hundred and thirteen.
Who is the man who can do all that is written,
so that he might be spared?
Oh, but had the artisan who made me
created me instead—a fair woman.
Today I would be wise and insightful.
We would weave, my friends and I,
and in the moonlight spin our yarn,
and tell our stories to one another, from dusk till midnight.
‘We'd tell of the events of our day, silly things,
matters of no consequence.
But also I would grow very wise from the spinning,
and I would say, “Happy is she who knows how to work with combed
flax and weave it into fine white linen.”
And at times, in the way of women,
I would lie down on the kitchen floor,
between the ovens, turn the coals, and taste the different dishes.
On holidays I would put on my best jewelry.
I would beat on the drum
and my clapping hands would ring.
And when I was ready and the time was right,
an excellent youth would be my fortune.
He would love me, place me on a pedestal,
dress me in jewels of gold,
earrings, bracelets, necklaces.
And on the appointed day,
in the season of joy when brides are wed,
for seven days would the boy increase my delight and gladness.
Were I hungry, he would feed me well-kneaded bread.
Were I thirsty, he would quench me with light and dark wine.
He would not chastise nor harshly treat me,
and my [sexual] pleasure he would not diminish.
Every Sabbath, and each new moon,
his head would rest upon my breast.
The three husbandly duties he would fulfill,
rations, raiment, and regular intimacy.
And three wifely duties would I also fulfill,
[watching for menstrual] blood, [Sabbath candle] lights, and bread
.
Father in heaven, who did miracles for our ancestors with fire and
water,
You changed the fire of Chaldees so it would not burn hot,
You changed Dinah in the womb of her mother to a girl,
You changed the staff to a snake before a million eyes,
You changed [Moses’] hand to [leprous] white
and the sea to dry land.
In the desert you turned rock to water,
hard flint to a fountain.
Who would then turn me from a man to woman?
Were I only to have merited this, being so graced by goodness.
What shall I say? Why cry or be bitter?
If my Father in heaven has decreed upon me
and has maimed me with an immutable deformity,
then I do not wish to remove it.
And the sorrow of the impossible
is a human pain that nothing will cure
and for which no comfort can be found.
So, I will bear and suffer
until I die and wither in the ground.
And since I have learned from our tradition.
that we bless both the good and the bitter,
I will bless in a voice, hushed and weak,
Blessed are you, O Lord,
who has not made me a woman."
Aaron concludes, "Blessed is the Lord our God, ruler of the Universe, who has made hormone replacement therapy. The poem is beautiful, but I pleased the world we live in today means no such things have to be written ever again. We are all b'etzelem Elohim. Some of us just require aftermarket upgrades."
Anneliese listens to the poem quietly, a complex series of emotions playing themselves out on her face. At the end she nods, slowly. "I... thank you, Rabbi." Her voice is rough. "That means a lot to me."
"There are 613 mitvot, the sages tell us, Anneliese. But among the top ten is Don't Lie. What you know in your heart to be true, what would unmake you Anneliese Kiel were you to deny it in yourself? Living that is pikuach nefesh. And the way you have felt about yourself all these years, why that's part and parcel of being b'etzelem Elohim." Aaron leans forward to briefly reach for Anneliese's hand and offer it a supportive squeeze. "Moreover, every page in the Talmud has space for more to be written. You can argue with the sages in pen, if you like, and write your truth in the margins. Because the Law is ours now. Has been since Sinai. You're a jew, and a woman, and my friend. And I am always proud of you." With that all said, Aaron notes, "This is usually the point where people suggest I leave, so if you'd like for me to get out of your hair, I can."
Anneliese returns the squeeze, not saying anything for a long moment. "I... I do not wish to kick you out, Aaron. You are someone I consider a friend, even if we do not spend much time together, with our busy schedules, and the gap in our ages." She looks down, rubbing at her face. "I... is it okay if I just ask you to hold me for a while, while I process?"
"I'm told I give good hugs. Once they regain their breath, anyway." Aaron gets up out of his chair, crosses over to the couch, and settles down beside Anneliese. He then turns a bit on the couch to face her more directly and opens up his arms to her. Up close, he has the musk of a giant bear of a man after a long day of work. Notes of sandalwood and amber to his cologne, faint as it is now. But it's a calming sort of masculine energy, devoid of the usual toxicity that might otherwise accompany such things. And only once she closes the distance herself does her wrap his arms about her shoulders, set his chin atop her head, and rock gently back and forth with his eyes closed.
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