AN HOUR later, they arrived at the steps of a synagogue called The City Shul. The evening service hadn’t started yet, so Sully was relieved not to have missed anything vital. They entered the front hall and found the head coverings, along with some embroidered covers. Chaz’s eyes lit up. He was probably remembering the same things from his youth. It was almost like magic watching the feelings flit across his face.
“You know to pick up one of these, right?” Sully put on a kippah and watched as Chaz did the same. Chaz’s scruff made Sully want to kiss him right there, but his gaze was caught by the dozen pamphlets at the front of the service hall. He picked up a couple but didn’t have a chance to read them before a few more people came in and hurried them to the back. They took the first bench that was empty and sat down. The rabbi walked to the front and waited for more people to be settled.
“Welcome all,” he said in English. After some more welcoming blessings and updates about the community, the rabbi switched to Hebrew. He talked with his hands as he gestured toward the passages in the Torah they’d be discussing.
Sully remembered the rituals in a rush. It had been so, so long since he’d been in any kind of synagogue. John went to a temple, something a little less conservative, and only for big holidays or special occasions in his family. Sully was so lost in his own memories of John’s cousin’s Seder that he didn’t notice the rabbi begin.
After about ten minutes of the rabbi’s address, Chaz leaned into Sully’s space. “Can you follow what’s going on?”
“Yeah. More or less. He says page numbers before he reads out. There’s a Torah here in front of us, so we could….”
“I don’t know if I could follow.” Chaz reached for the Torah and opened up a page but seemed overwhelmed by the text and the language it was written in. “Can you tell me what they’re saying? I haven’t…. It’s been too long.”
“Of course.”
Sully clasped Chaz’s hand over the Torah. Maybe it was poor form in this place, but Chaz seemed to need it. After concentrating hard, Sully found the page number. He reiterated the passage they were at in a hushed whisper, then rehashed the rabbi’s words. There was a delay between his translations each time, but it was fitting.
When the rabbi mentioned that they were approaching Yom Kippur, and they should be thinking about atonement, Sully’s pace slowed. Chaz didn’t seem to notice; he slipped into a pensive stare that struck Sully with its familiarity. Chaz was folding into himself, thinking hard about his life—but Sully didn’t need to rush in and save him from his memories. Instead Sully started to think about his own. Had he forgiven people? Was that the next step in his twisted life? Confess all your fears. The monsters take shape. And then you forgive the monster? No, Sully didn’t like that. He didn’t want to forgive the monsters who had ruined his life.
Perhaps monster is the wrong word, though. Monsters weren’t metaphors but real people. Chaz Solomon was a menace on paper, but next to Sully he was a scared kid trying to find a place where he belonged. Sully knew what that was like.
What’s that expression? If you keep doing the same thing expecting different results, that’s what makes you crazy. Chaz Solomon kept trusting people, even when all signs pointed to not trusting them. He seemed to keep seeking out more people to trust, hoping to somehow break the hold of everything bad that had come before it. Sully knew from Artie that people who had suffered trauma often repeated the event in order to rewrite it. They needed to keep going back to the scene of the crime until a different result was produced. Deep down, Sully knew that was why he stayed in sex work. He was so determined to make sex enjoyable for himself and other people, and not some tool used to break people down.
Sully ran his hand up and down Chaz’s arm. Chaz stirred or flinched each time Sully repeated the Hebrew word for atonement. Chaz needed to fix something. He needed to restore justice to those suffering in the gangs and cartels because it had almost been him. Because he left Nat there and ran away to save himself.
But Nat’s not dead. Sully remembered Trina’s words with blinding precision and the World tarot card with Imogen at the center of it, along with the four sisters providing safety. It could be a lie, Sully thought. Nat could still be dead and Sully didn’t want to tell Chaz what he’d heard from Trina in case he was wrong. He didn’t want to damage that trust again, because it seemed like the best gift he’d ever been given.
The words from the rabbi blurred together in Sully’s mind. Life was so difficult. But this—right now with Chaz at his side—was easy. Chaz didn’t even ask him to repeat the lines anymore. He listened too, basking in whatever they were given.
Near the end of the service, Sully felt better. Lighter. As if they’d done something good for the day, and the Shabbat wasn’t even over yet. When the service ended, a female rabbi and a man said blessings to them as they left. Then Sully’s hand went back into Chaz’s outside the door.
“Was that okay?” Sully asked. “You were quiet for a lot of it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About? Can I ask?”
“Yeah, you can. Thank you.” Chaz was quiet again, but Sully held on. He was slowly learning to read his silences not as aggressive—like most men he’d come across—but contemplative. “You’re staying with me again tonight? Even if I’m not in need of healing anymore?”
“Yes,” Sully said. “I think someone may be using my room at Artie’s.”
“Oh.”
“But I want to stay with you. At least until we go on Sunday, right?”
“Right,” Chaz said, smiling. “I guess I’m definitely going for dinner now, huh?”
“Yeah, but Shabbat isn’t over. So tell me what else you want to do.”
They came to a red light and Chaz became quiet again. Sully wondered what other stories were there, underneath his skin. Was he thinking about his dad? His mom? Where was Chaz’s family now, and how could they leave their son like this? He was a vampire, sure, but that didn’t mean he was a disgrace. Being a vamp didn’t make him a better person, but it didn’t make him a worse one either. Chaz was just… Chaz.
And Chaz Solomon was such a beautiful name.
“I think I want to do nothing,” Chaz said.
“We will do just that,” Sully said, squeezing Chaz’s hand again.
When they got to the apartment, doing nothing meant eating cake in bed. Then, when Chaz seemed restless, he asked Sully to put on music.
“The opera you were listening to before. It’s stuck in my head now.”
“Good. Do you want me to try and put it on your computer, so we can listen through the speakers?”
“No. In bed. Just the phone.”
They stripped off their pants but kept on T-shirts and boxers, and they slipped under the covers. The phone was between them, their bodies turned toward each other so they could listen. Chaz grabbed Sully’s wrist, but that was it for a long time. They listened to the opera through once completely before Chaz went to kiss him. Sully kissed back easily, his mouth parting and his body opening to Chaz’s touches. He was so, so warm and ready to go, but they didn’t do anything but kiss that night.
It seemed to be all Chaz needed, and so, it was all Sully needed too.