Work Text:
Ever since meeting them at one of Heaven’s synagogues, Rufus had been celebrating Jewish holidays with Aaron and his Golem. Because Aaron’s Golem had been processed as an extension of Aaron rather than his own supernatural being, they had ended up in Heaven together after their deaths. They had gone down together in battle, but only after killing the very last member of the Thule.
“Happy Chanukah,” Aaron exclaimed when Rufus opened the front door of the house he shared with Aretha. Aaron held out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label with a blue bow on it and Rufus snatched it with a smile. The Golem stood behind Aaron, a tinfoil-covered plate in his hands. It was a large serving dish, but it looked small in the Golem’s giant grasp. A shopping bag was also looped over his arm and the top of a wrapped gift peaked out.
“Chag Sameach,” the Golem said in his deep, stiff voice.
“Happy Chanukah, boys, come on in,” Rufus replied, stepping aside so they could enter. Aaron and the Golem followed Rufus to the dining room. The Golem set the serving plate down on the table and the bag with Rufus’ other gift in the corner of the room to be opened after dinner. The dinner table was covered with a white tablecloth adorned with blue trim. It was set for the three of them with a bouquet of white flowers tied with blue ribbon as a centerpiece. Rufus peeked under the foil of the plate the Golem had set down and found that Aaron and the Golem had brought latkes. He looked to Aaron, who smirked playfully.
“You made latkes? I told you I was making latkes,” Rufus said grumpily. He put the Johnnie Walker Blue Label in the cupboard of his built-in bar; he didn’t want to share it.
“I know,” Aaron replied. “This way we can see whose latkes are better.”
Rufus gave him a look that was half glare and half fond smile.
“Then bring it on,” he said with a puffed-out chest. “But first let’s light the menorah.”
They moved to the dining room’s large window. On the windowsill, Rufus had set up his silver menorah. It was the final night of Chanukah, so every one of the candle holders was loaded with a candle ready to be set ablaze. The unlit candles were blue and white handmade items that Aretha had gotten for Rufus at her friend’s Judaica store. Beside the menorah, a siddur and a silver candle lighter waited. Rufus picked up the siddur and opened the prayer book to the page he had bookmarked.
“Baruch atah Adonai,” Rufus read from the book, “Eloheinu Melech ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Chanukah.”
“Amen,” Aaron and the Golem replied in unison.
“Baruch atah Adonai,” Rufus said, reading out the second prayer, “Eloheinu Melech ha'olam, she'asa nisim la'avoteinu b'yamim hahem, u-va-z'man hazeh.”
“Amen,” Aaron and the Golem said again.
Rufus lifted the lighter and turned it on, its flame flaring. He used it to light the shamash candle, then used the shamash candle to light each of the eight remaining candles, then returned the shamash to its spot. There was a long moment of contended silence as the three of them gazed at the row of bright, dancing flames contrasting with the black, velvety night on the other side of the window’s glass. There was a special beauty to the menorah on the holiday’s final night.
“Aaron has been practicing his pronunciation of Hanerot Halalu,” the Golem announced. “It is perfect now.” There was rarely inflection in his tone, but Rufus had learned to notice its traces, and he could hear the pride in the Golem’s words.
“Let’s hear it,” Rufus said, then passed the siddur to Aaron.
Aaron cleared his throat and took a deep breath, then began to read out the first paragraph of the prayer traditionally recited after the Chanukah candles are lit.
“Hanerot halalu,” he said with careful pronunciation, “anu madlikin al hanisim ve'al hanifla'ot, ve'al hateshu'ot, ve'al hamilchamot, she'asita la'avoteinu bayamim haheim bazman hazeh al yedei kohanecha hak'doshim. V'chol sh'monat yemei Chanukah hanerot halalu, kodesh heim, ve'ein lanu reshut lehishtameish bahem ela lir'otam bilvad, kedei lohodot ulehalleil leshimcha hagadol, al nissehcha ve'al yeshuatehcha ve'al nifle'otehcha.”
Rufus and the Golem clapped before the three of them proceeded to sing the paragraph that followed, which they all knew by heart. Blushing slightly, Aaron replaced the bookmark and closed the prayer book.
“Ma'oz tzur yeshu'ati,” they all sang together in a lively tune, “lecha na'eh leshabe-ach. Tikon beit tefilati vesham todah nezabe-ach. Le'eit tachin matbe-ach, mitzar ham'nabe-ach. Az egmor beshir mizmor Chanukat hamizbe-ach. Az egmor beshir mizmor Chanukat hamizbe-ach.”
After the menorah lighting was done, Aaron and the Golem helped Rufus bring the various covered dishes to the dining room table. With a little help from Aretha and a lot of help from a Jewish cookbook, Rufus had cooked a Chanukah feast. There had been a lot of swearing involved in the cooking process, but in the end, Rufus was pleased with the meal he had made.
It was a kosher meal, using only kosher meat and containing no dairy since it was forbidden to mix milk and meat. Rufus did not choose to keep kosher himself, but he knew that Aaron had returned to his childhood tradition of keeping kosher some years prior to passing away. They both identified as Reform Jews, and Aaron did not require that his food be cooked in a kosher kitchen. The festive meal Rufus had made from scratch began with a menorah-shaped loaf of bread. He had gotten the idea from a woman at their synagogue. Next came matzo ball soup, a food more commonly associated with Passover, but one Rufus loved to make as often as possible. There was also a spinach strawberry walnut salad, brisket, dairy-free mashed potatoes with gravy, pareve candied carrots, and of course a heaping plate of pareve latkes, served with apple sauce and dairy-free sour cream to dip them in. Dessert, pareve sufganiyot which were also homemade, waited in the kitchen for later devouring.
Before they sat down, Aaron went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands in the ritual way his chosen level of observance dictated for meals that included bread. Then they all took their places at the table. As they settled into their chairs, Aaron looked excitedly at the spread and Rufus felt proud of himself. Aaron cut himself a slice of bread and Rufus listened as Aaron said the Hamotzi prayer over the slice and took a bite, blessing his meal. Rufus didn’t choose to perform the hand-washing ritual or say blessings before all of his meals, but he was aware that many Jews did do these things, and he respected that choice as much as he respected his own. When Aaron was ready, Rufus ladled soup into all three bowls and put slices of bread on his own plate and on the Golem’s plate; the Golem didn’t eat, but Rufus always served him food for the sake of inclusion.
“Amazing soup,” Aaron said after his first spoonful.
“Damn straight it is,” Rufus said with pride.
“Did you make the bread yourself too?”
“I did.”
“It’s so good,” Aaron said between mouthfuls of food.
The Golem watched them eat and chat, a whisper of contentment on his face. Occasionally, he said something, but mostly he just listened. Rufus finished his own soup, then took a small amount of salad onto his plate. After Aaron had emptied his soup bowl, he placed a portion of salad on his plate as well, and the group chatted as the humans made their way through the meal’s second course. When they were done, Aaron began to serve himself a portion of brisket.
“Hold on,” Rufus said. “Latkes first. So I can show you how much better mine are.”
Aaron smiled and put back the utensils he had lifted from the serving plate containing the brisket. He reached for the plate of Rufus’ latkes instead. He put one on each of their plates, again including the Golem so that he wasn’t left out. Next, Aaron pulled the plate of latkes he had brought near to him and placed one on everyone’s plates. Aaron scooped out a spoonful of applesauce onto his plate beside the latkes, then added a spoonful of dairy-free sour cream beside it. Rufus only added apple sauce to his own plate; he didn’t like sour cream on his latkes.
“Let the contest begin,” Aaron announced. “Let’s try mine first.”
Rufus nodded and the Golem watched closely as Aaron and Rufus each took a forkful of Aaron’s latkes and dipped them into their condiments of choice before placing them into their mouths. There was a moment of silence as they chewed, analyzing the taste while they did so.
“I'll be a Prima Ballerina, these are good,” Rufus said with exaggerated surprise.
“Aren’t they? My grandfather taught me to make them.”
“That’s sweet,” Rufus replied, “but mine are still better.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They each sampled the latkes Rufus had made.
“So good,” Rufus declared, “huh?”
“They are good,” Aaron answered. “Really good. But I pronounce mine the winner.”
“Well, I pronounce mine the winner,” Rufus replied firmly.
They both looked to the Golem.
“I can neither eat nor taste,” he said. “You both know this. How can I possibly cast the deciding vote?”
“Well,” Aaron said thoughtfully, “here in Heaven we can get pretty much anything we want, right? You could probably eat and taste if you wanted to. Worth a try?”
The Golem’s face was one of uncharacteristically evident delight.
“You truly think so?”
“Sounds right to me,” Rufus chimed in between forkfuls of latke.
“But you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Aaron added. “Not an order at all.”
“I want to,” the Golem said at once. “I have always desired to know what it’s like to eat, to taste, to be able to savor a flavor and feel the contentedness of being full of good food. But how do I make it happen?”
“Every time I’ve wanted something here in Heaven I just have to think about it being true and it is,” Rufus said.
“Me too,” Aaron added.
The Golem nodded, said the blessing that applies to latkes, then closed his eyes for a long moment. Rufus and Aaron waited. At last, the Golem made a small but joyful smile, then opened his eyes. Slowly, he guided his fork to his plate and loaded it with a bite of one of the latkes Aaron had made. He brought it to his mouth with excitement and nervousness. When the fork was just outside his open mouth, the Golem paused.
“It’s okay,” Aaron encouraged him.
Their eyes met and Aaron gave him a comforting smile and a soft nod. The Golem put the forkful of latke into his mouth and began to chew.
Rufus had seen people glow before in Heaven. It had happened to both him and Aretha when they had shared their first kiss, and during many of their other moments together. It had happened to his daughter when she had been reunited with her newly-dead cockatoo, and it had happened to Bobby the moment he first saw his wife in Heaven. It had also happened to Bobby when he fulfilled his dream of tasting the discontinued and extremely rare Johnnie Walker Odyssey.
But what was fascinating this time was that it was not only the Golem who glowed; Aaron glowed too. Their connection presumably caused the power of the Golem’s joy to spread to Aaron. They were both bright like the flames of the Chanukah candles. Rufus didn’t glow, but he could nearly feel their joy as he gazed at the light they shed.
They waited for the light to fade away and the Golem to regain his focus before he tried the latke Rufus had made. When he did, the Golem and Aaron glowed again. After the second glow had faded, the Golem spoke.
“I will have to declare this a tie.”
“Fair,” Aaron said. He turned to Rufus. “Rematch next year?”
“Rematch next year.”