Out In the Open

Aaron slipped into the synagogue in Knightsbridge, exhaling slowly as he entered the sanctuary. He scanned the assembled congregants, looking for his parents. Normally he attended services at a synagogue in Barkingside, but for the High Holy Days he came here. He considered it his second home of a sort. His naming ceremony had been performed here, just days after his bris. He'd attended Saturday morning learning programs since before he could walk. He had become a bar mitzvah here, presented with his grandfather's tallit. Everyone knew him by sight, if not more familiarly. He could hardly come to a service without being reminded by several matronly women that they had changed his nappies on more than one occasion. And when he had come out to the world at large, not a single one of them minded. They merely asked him when he was going to give his parents grandchildren. Aaron found David's mane of silvery hair and threaded his way to him. He slid into the seat next to David and unzipped the small velvet bag that held his tallit. 'Where's Mum?' he asked shaking out the length of white silk, gone ivory with age. He quickly muttered the blessing embroidered on the neck of the prayer shawl and impulsively held it to his nose. Despite his grandfather's passing nearly twenty years ago, traces of his scent still lingered in its folds. Aaron swirled it over his head, letting it settle for a moment, briefly tenting him in the voluminous ripples of silk, then gently pulled it down, arranging it in folds over his shoulders.

'Your mother?' David waved a hand vaguely in the direction of a cluster of women. 'Somewhere in there...' He swiveled in his chair, watching Aaron arrange the tallit over his shoulders. 'You've looked better,' he observed.

'Thanks,' Aaron muttered, leafing through his prayer book.

'You haven't mentioned your friend, Dudley, lately.'

Aaron's fingers tightened on the page, making it crinkle loudly. 'We've had a disagreement.'

'Anything you'd like to share?' David asked mildly.

Aaron sighed heavily. 'Let's just say if Mum knew she'd smack me like I was ten, and sneaking biscuits before dinner.'

'That bad, hm?'

'Worse, actually. I was quite rude.'

David stared at his youngest son. 'What did you do, if you don't mind me asking?'

Aaron's mouth quirked slightly. 'I asked him about this scar he has, and when he told me how he got it, I... I didn't believe him. And told him as much.' He chuckled sardonically. 'And what's even worse, in the end, none of it matters.'

David leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. 'Did you attempt to make amends?'

'Of course I did!'

David narrowed his dark eyes and pierced Aaron with his gaze. 'Did you mean it?'

'Dad...'

David tapped his closed prayer book on his knee. 'You have to mean it, Aaron,' he said, using the Hebrew pronunciation of his son's name, as he had when Aaron was a young boy and done something foolish. 'Not to mention you must give it your best effort. If you can honestly say you did, then you're absolved. If not...' He tilted Aaron's head up by the chin. 'You should know that. Some things aren't mere words you say to feel virtuous.'

'It's probably too late,' Aaron argued.

'It's never too late to ask for forgiveness,' David admonished. He turned his gaze to the windows. 'And you have until tomorrow at sundown, my boy. Make good use of your time.'

XxXxXxX

Dudley paced his small flat with the intensity of a caged tiger. He stalked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and stared into the depths, with a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted cakes, sweets, fizzy drinks, but all he had were grapes, apples, and a few shriveled oranges. He could feel the smooth, sweet creaminess of an ice cream sundae on his tongue. He flung the door closed, and stomped back into the sitting room. Dudley suddenly spun and lunged back into then kitchen and rummaged through a drawer, unearthing the bar of chocolate Aaron had brought in April. He'd put it there, reasoning that it would be a waste to just throw it away. Besides, a guest might want something sweet. Besides, it was excellent chocolate. He broke off one square, and stuffed it into his mouth, nearly moaning as the chocolate melted in his mouth. Another square quickly followed, and then another. Before Dudley knew what happened, his cheeks distended with half-eaten chocolate. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window over the sink and a shudder ran through his body. A smear of chocolate traced over his lower lip, his eyes bulged. For a brief moment, Dudley could see his fourteen year-old self - too fat to be believed. He spit the chocolate into the dustbin, then rinsed his mouth from the tap and spat repeatedly. Food wasn't going to solve anything. It never had. In spite of the lateness of the hour, he grabbed his trainers and left the flat to try and outrun his frustrations. Dudley plopped on the stoop of the building and shoved his feet into the trainers and yanked the laces tightly, tying them into a savage knot. He began to walk rapidly down the pavement, his pace quickening until he broke into a run, darting around the people milling in front of the shop windows.

Dudley was unable to maintain the frantic sprint for more than a quarter of a mile. He stumbled to a walk, and then halted, leaning against the wall of a building. His breath sounded harsh in his ears, but it wasn't enough to block the memories of the past several years. When he was young he'd been so certain his parents loved him. They'd given him everything he'd wanted, hadn't they? Everything he wanted, but nothing he needed, like boundaries or limits. He hadn't learned compassion or kindness from them. Those had been hard-won lessons learned the year in hiding and when he was able to move away from Privet Drive and started university. He'd forced himself to make a conscious effort to make friends with attitudes on the opposite side of the spectrum from his parents. In fact, he had deliberately sought out friendships that bore little resemblance to his childhood relationships. Now, he rarely took the lead in relationships. If his father had known, Vernon would have called him timid at best and a sissy at worst. Actually, Dudley thought wryly, he'd call me worse now...

Scrubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, Dudley pushed himself off the wall and struck off in the direction of his flat. He meandered down the pavement fishing for the key to his flat. So engrossed was he in his task, he nearly stepped on Aaron, patiently waiting on the stoop of his building. Aaron looked up wearily. 'Hiya...'

'Hi...'

Aaron hauled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. 'Can I come in for a bit?'

Dudley scrutinized Aaron closely. 'Are you ill?' he asked, noting Aaron's pale skin and the lines of exhaustion around his eyes and mouth.

'No. I'm just sort of hungry...' A loud rumble emanated from Aaron's middle, belying his statement. 'All right. A lot hungry.' He gestured toward the door. 'Could I come in?' he repeated.

Flustered, Dudley crammed the key into the lock. 'Yeah...'

'I won't stay long,' Aaron assured him. 'I know you've got work tomorrow. I just have something I need to say.' He trailed woozily after Dudley into the flat, stumbling slightly as he crossed the threshold. He reached out to steady himself and grasped Dudley's arm tightly.

'You don't look well,' Dudley began.

Aaron sighed and glanced at his watch. 'I haven't eaten since last night, and I could use some water,' he hinted hopefully.

Dudley shut the door and walked into the kitchen, returning with two bottles of water in one hand and an apple in the other. He handed the apple and one bottle to Aaron, opening the other and taking a long pull while he indicated a chair. 'So you were saying?'

Aaron bit gratefully into the apple, taking a near savage pleasure in the tart rasp of the juice explode on his tongue. 'Thank you,' he said, once he had swallowed the initial bite. He sank into the chair and set the bottle of water next to his feet. 'I was wrong,' he said simply. 'I was wrong. You never gave me a reason to doubt you about anything. And I did not give you so much as the benefit of the doubt. I made you feel terrible about revealing something that's obviously a secret that you've never felt comfortable telling anybody. I treated you no better than your parents. I have to trust you. And I do trust you.' Aaron looked down at the apple cradled in his hand and took a hasty bite, as if to cover his sudden confusion.

'I see,' Dudley murmured slowly.

'You don't have to forgive me,' Aaron continued thickly. 'But I really wish you'd try...'

Dudley felt his face flush and a retort rose to his lips, coating his tongue with the bitter tang of anger. He allowed himself the luxury of feeling it pound in time with his pulse. 'Like you tried to believe me?' he spat.

Aaron blinked and nodded slightly. 'You're right,' he said quietly. 'You're absolutely right. But you had to wonder how it would appear to someone who hadn't been exposed to magic before, no?'

Dudley fiddled with the cap of his water bottle. 'Of course I did,' he muttered. 'I know it makes me sound like a nutter.'

Aaron shrugged. 'Most people I know consider it nonsense, but there's a long tradition of Jewish mystics,' he said, sipping his own water. 'You could even say they performed magic. All in the name of God, naturally, but it was only a select few,' he added. 'Magic wasn't considered inherently evil, but in the wrong hands, it could be capable or wrecking havoc on a community.'

Dudley recalled how his own family's life had been horribly upended due to magic being practiced by the "wrong hands" and shuddered. 'Yeah...'

Aaron rubbed his palms over the knees of his trousers. 'There are dozens of things I should have done, but I can't go back in time and change that. What happens next is up to you.' He pushed himself to his feet and smoothed his suit jacket. 'I just want you to know, regardless of what you do decide, I was wrong to have treated you so callously. One ought not to do that to a person the care for. I am truly sorry my actions caused you such pain. I hope you can find it within you to forgive me.' Aaron leaned forward entreatingly. He crossed the small room, and bent over Dudley's seat, then lightly kissed him.

Dudley reached up and gently traced the line of Aaron's jaw. 'Good night,' he murmured.

Aaron exhaled slowly. 'Good night,' he responded, fervently praying that he hadn't heard a permanent farewell.

XxXxXxX

Exams were piled on Dudley's scrap of a kitchen table and a red pen dangled from his fingers, but he stared at the window, transfixed by the curtains billowing in the unseasonably warm breeze. A stray shaft of honeyed sunlight trickled through the open window, beckoning, entreating him to come outside. It was London after all. One didn't take perfectly gorgeous days like this for granted. With a huff of resolution, Dudley attempted to return his focus back to the exams. He fished for a sheet of small smiley faced sticker and affixed one to the top of the exam he'd just marked, transferred it to the bottom of the pile, then picked up the pen once more. He scanned the answers, scribbled in smudged pencil, marked a handful as wrong, wrote the grade at the top, and tucked it behind the last. He tilted his left wrist and studied the face of his watch. It was well after three in the afternoon, and he'd spent the better part of the last six hours marking the previous Friday's exams. Dudley flipped through the remaining papers, counting under his breath. Eight more. He could finish eight more papers before four and have plenty of time for a run before the sun set. 'Right, get on with it, then,' he told himself sternly. Fortunately, after the first dozen or so papers, he was able to devote a significant portion of his attention to other matters.

Like Aaron.

Dudley had badly wanted to believe Aaron when he'd apologized last Thursday evening. But something had held him back. Pride, perhaps. Not wanting to appear pitifully grateful someone wanted to spend time with him. Or a perverse desire to make Aaron stew, just as he'd made Dudley do since July.

'Sod it,' Dudley muttered, throwing the pen to the table. 'The exams can wait an hour or two,' he declared to the empty flat, giving in to the temptation that awaited him outside. He hurriedly changed into a pair of somewhat baggy shorts and a t-shirt, hopping on one foot as he pulled on one trainer, then the other over his feet. He paused long enough to tuck the key to his flat in one pocket, and as had become his habit since April, his mobile in the other. With the eagerness of a child, Dudley tumbled into the embrace of the warm autumn sunshine.

He jogged slowly and aimlessly, just enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin, meandering his way to Clayhill Park. Once inside, he paused uncertainly, wondering which way to turn. If he veered right, he'd eventually end up near the football pitches. And on a day like today, Aaron was sure to be playing with his friends. Or he could make things easy and turn left. Left was mercifully free of messy entanglements. 'I beg your pardon,' a middle-aged motherly sort said brightly. 'But are you lost?'

'What?' Dudley shook himself from his reverie. 'No. Thank you.'

'All right, then,' she said, satisfied at completing her neighborly deed for the day before bellowing, 'Ethan! It's time to go home, luv!'

Dudley grimaced at the woman's ear-splitting yelp, and out of habit, he struck out toward the football pitches, more to escape the sound of her voice, as well as Ethan's piercing protests, than a desire to see if Aaron was there at all. This is stupid. This is stupid, ran through his head in a litany, each time his foot hit the ground.

Too soon for Dudley's wavering courage, the football pitches came into sight, and he automatically began to scan the players, looking for Aaron's lean frame near the goal. Dudley felt his shoulders begin to slump along with his heart when he realized Aaron didn't occupy his usual spot in the net. Well, I guess you've gone and cocked this up, too, he thought savagely to himself. Surely you didn't expect him to wait for you like a bloody spaniel? Feeling the recurrent loathing arise with a wave of nausea, Dudley's head ducked and he pivoted, intending to return home when his shoulders collided painfully with something hard, warm, and most decidedly alive.

The person he'd nearly run down clutched at his arms, flailing to regain his balance. 'We have got to stop meeting like this,' a familiar voice drawled. 'One of us is going to get seriously hurt.'

Dudley lifted his head at the sound, his heart soaring into his throat. 'I was wondering,' he said hoarsely, 'if you'd like to get a cup of coffee? Or something...'

Aaron shifted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and rubbed a palm over his bristly jaw. 'Well, I had plans...'

Dudley's sudden lift in spirits deflated as quickly as it had arrived. 'Some other time, then.' He took a quick step back and hoped he could get away without embarrassing himself even further than he already had.

'Oi! Aaron! C'mon, mate! Are you in or not?' yelled Brenden, one of Aaron's friends from the edge of the pitch. 'Colin's making a pig's ear out of the match!' Aaron could see Colin gave Brenden an extremely rude gesture. His eyes swiveled to Dudley, who was attempting to retreat in what Dudley clearly hoped was an inconspicuous manner.

'Sorry, Brenden! Out! See you next Sunday, yeah?' Aaron closed the gap between Dudley and himself in a few quick strides. 'If you'd let me finish, I would have said, I had plans to play a little footie, then go home to a mountain of brisket my mum sent home with me Friday night. She sends her regards, by the way. So, Dudley, I would love nothing more than to have a cup of coffee - or something - with you.' He held out his hand, and Dudley reached for it, twining his fingers through Aaron's. 'So is Carrie's place all right with you?'

Dudley coughed slightly, blushing furiously. 'Actually, I was thinking perhaps your place. He gulped and he quickly added, 'Or not.'

'Why? You've got some other odd scars you'd like me to see?' Aaron suggested, with a knowing arch to his brow.

'Well, no. I was hoping you had a few,' Dudley shot back, then clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes round with shock. 'I've never said anything like that before,' he whispered, coming to a complete stop.

Aaron tugged at Dudley's hand, chuckling. 'You ought to say things like that more often. To me.'

Dudley scuffed the toe of one of his trainers through the grass and nodded. 'Thank you,' he blurted.

'Whatever for?' Aaron asked, resuming the walk to the entrance of the park.

'For believing me. For this...'

'Don't do that,' Aaron said a bit more sharply than he had intended. 'I don't deserve your gratitude for believing something that's merely the truth, especially not after the way I bungled it up. And I'm taking you home with me, because I want to. Nothing I've ever done with you or for you has been out of a sense of pity. All right?' Aaron tilted Dudley's chin up a bit until he could meet his eyes. 'I love you. I meant it the first time I said it. I mean it even more now, because I know what I could lose. I love you.'

They left the park, and joined the teeming crowds on the pavement, soaking up what was sure to be the last bit of summer, moving imperceptibly toward one another until their arms brushed together. They said nothing more, but every so often, one would turn to the other, and a fleeting, shy smile would land on the corners of their mouths.

They had almost reached Aaron's house when Dudley said something so softly, Aaron had to strain to hear it, but reveled in it all the same, knowing how hard-fought the battle had been to even want to say it.

'I love you, too...'

XxXxXxX

A/N: Bris is the ceremony where an eight-day old Jewish boy is circumcised. There's usually a party afterward.

Tallit (or tallis) is prayer shawl worn traditionally by Jewish males over the age of 13, usually received on their bar mitzvah. Although, now in some of the more liberal congregations, women wear them and girls receive theirs during their bat mitzvah. It's a long rectangle of cloth with fringes on all four corners, and on the short ends. It can be made of cotton, polyester, or silk. Mine is cream-colored raw silk with variegated shades of blue silk stripes, and appropriately enough, birds appliquéd on each corner, and on the top edge (or collar, if you will). I had my bat mitzvah 2 years ago as an adult. Not an easy task to undertake as a child, much less an adult with a full time job, commitments, and no mother standing over me to study every night... lol! Note -- both spellings are correct, it depends on if you're using the Ashkenazi (Eastern European) or Sephardic (Southern European/Mediterranean) dialect of Hebrew.

Bar/bat mitzvah most of you have probably heard of this. It's where a thirteen year old boy or girl is called up to read from the Torah and lead all or some of the service. My Hebrew teacher and I referred to it as being on the Holodeck of the Enterprise. You could know everything perfectly, but when 250 of your closest friends and family are there, that prayer you knew like the back of your hand, suddenly disappears. The upshot of being a bar or bat mitzvah is that this thirteen year old kid is considered an adult under the laws of Judaism - they are morally responsible for their actions and are eligible to do anything within the precepts of Judaism an adult can do. And yes, there's usually a party afterward. Some are quite lavish, while others are more modest affairs.