I began searching for Michael.
I searched at the rings where we had first met. I gave one of the lower rings a shove and let it swing back and forth. I could hear myself explaining to him how to do it, how to work with the universe and fly.
I searched at school. The library steps remembered him, but told me he wasn’t there anymore — he didn’t go to middle school anymore.
I searched at the college pool. I could see him struggling with his rhythm while Penny prodded him. But today there were just some preschool teachers there, pretending to teach the kids to swim.
I searched at our swimming beach. The bushes remembered his bicycle.
Tom’s canoe remembered him. The first half mile of water to the channel buoy knew his stroke, but not the three and a half miles of water beyond.
I searched in the maple trees. He had been there, they said, putting up swings for Penny and me. His knots had never failed. He was a slow but steady climber, they said.
I searched in the alder grove. One of the trees remembered his scream and his blood. The trees near remembered me holding him, and then letting him finish alone. Thinking about that made me cry a little, but I went on searching.
By then I knew I was searching for a Michael that didn’t exist anymore. I went to the Grove last. The flood of memories I found there took me hours to sort out — building fires with him, holding hands around the Magic Circle,
listening to his music, making a love amulet for Penny. A love spell for Penny
. . . she was my best friend and I wanted her to be happy. I wasn’t angry that she was happy, but . . . but what about me?
Spring was in the air when I got through searching. Issa invited us all to a Passover meal. I think maybe I hadn’t really been searching for Michael, even a Michael of the past. I had really been searching for Ariel.
Issa’s family living room had been completely changed. It now had a big low table in it, only about a foot off the ground, with lots and lots of pillows and cushions all around it, but no chairs or other furniture. No lights were on, but many candles were burning on the table.
Besides us Sprites and Issa’s parents and his eight-year-old sister, about six other people were there, all Jewish. Issa’s father wore a white robe and sat at the head of the table. He told each of us where he wanted us to sit. Issa was on his left, then me, then Penny, then Michael.
I knew it was supposed to be a ceremonial meal, but the food sure looked strange. As soon as everyone sat down and was quiet, Issa’s mother filled everyone’s wine glass from a big decanter. It looked like the cherry-red kind we used at the Grove.
“Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, creator of the fruit of the vine. Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, king of the universe . . .” Issa’s father gave a dedication, and then everyone began to drink their glass of wine. The whole thing! Penny and Michael looked a little scared. I loved it — the same sweet kind as before.
Issa’s sister got a pitcher of water, a large bowl, and a towel over her arm, and went from person to person, kneeling beside them. We watched as each person washed their hands, and by the time she got to us, we knew what to do.
Issa’s father dipped pieces of celery in something and his mother went around, putting a piece of it on each plate. The wine hit my head. He said,
“Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, king of the universe, who creates the fruit of the earth.” Everyone ate their celery. I could see Penny’s lips shrivel when she tasted the vinegar.
Issa’s father was doing something with a large piece of matza cracker, putting part of it in a cloth. I was feeling happy and starting to really enjoy
myself. Issa and his mother helped his father lift the plate of matzas, and everyone but Penny and Michael and me said, “This is the bread of poverty which our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt . . .”
Michael. Suddenly I looked at him, even stared at him. He didn’t notice me. He had never noticed me. Issa’s mother was filling our wine glasses again. He had never kissed me, never held my hand unless I initiated it, or anything else. What had Penny said? He had been falling in love with her ever since that Halloween I made the love amulet. I wanted to cry, just let big crocodile tears come out.
“Why is this night different from other nights?” Issa’s sister was saying.
“Other nights we eat leavened bread. Why do we only eat unleavened bread tonight?”
Issa’s father read something for a few minutes, all about being slaves in Egypt. Then everyone lifted their glasses, and we did too. I put away my tears. Issa’s mom read something, and we put our wine back down.
Issa’s father read for a long time, stuff from the Bible, it sounded like. I listened to most of it, but the only part I remembered was our response each time. It seemed to somehow be directed at me.
“Had He sunk our oppressors in the midst of it, but not satisfied our needs in the desert for 40 years . . .”
And we all said, “We should have been content!”
“Had He satisfied our needs in the desert for 40 years, but not fed us manna . . .”
And we all said, “We should have been content!”
There were lots more lines like that, and then he explained the matza and the bitter herbs. “And they made their lives bitter with hard service, in mortar and in brick, and in all manner of service in the field . . .”
I had forgotten all about Michael. We raised our wine and chanted a song.
The past was gone for me. I could hardly even remember it. It is gone, finished, irrelevant. I am happy right now, and I have a future, but I don’t know what it will be like. I’ve never known so little about my future before . . .
We drank our wine and then washed our hands again. After saying a few things, we ate matzas. I was getting goofy, and I remembered Issa’s sister smiling at me. The words his father read were just a pleasant background
now, and I ate the lettuce dipped in a fruity sauce. I really was trying not to giggle.
I remember a big bone on a plate with some meat on it, but no one ate it.
There was a lot more reading, by both Issa’s mom and dad, and then we drank a third glass of wine. I remember someone opening the front door, and then I heard, “Pour out Thy wrath against the nations that know Thee not . . .”
I was starting to sway against Penny 0r Issa. I didn’t know which. More words were read. Issa read some, and some of the other Jewish people read too. I gave up and just lay back on the pillows.
Somehow my wine glass was filled again, and somehow I drank it. I remember peeking out at all the smiling faces in the room, especially Issa’s sister. She was wobbling too when she tried to sit up. I remember seeing Penny and Michael holding hands and giggling, but I didn’t care. I remember everyone shouting, “Next year in Jerusalem!” and then I think I fell asleep.
I dreamed people were singing songs. Maybe they were. I went back to sleep.
Finally I woke up and it was quiet. Issa’s mom made me drink a glass of water, then tucked me into blankets on a couch. I caught a glimpse of Penny fast asleep on another couch before the lights were turned off.