Scene 45
The Light We Give, The Light We Get
“Can you sauce me a few meals? I gotta get them into the oven.”
“Yeah, sure, Nat. But I need to ask you. How are you doin? I mean, since Bondi. How are ya?”
“The truth? I hate how I feel. I’m angry. I’m sad. I worry that my son works at a Jewish organization. I’m tired of anti-semitism. I’m tired of the preoccupation with anti-semitism. I mean, just look out there. Look at all those cold, exhausted people eating dinner here tonight. Can’t we for once just focus on that?”
Stevie is one of our volunteers. Like so many of us helping out tonight, he grapples daily with crippling mental health issues that he tries to mask. Here he knows he is safe.
“Can I give you a hug. I know you aren’t a huggie gal, but…”
“Bring it in, big guy!”
DW limps in. His ongoing health issues remain a mystery. His shoes are untied. Another volunteer and I kneel down and tie his shoes.
“Thank you ladies!”
Tony is busy scrubbing pots. His right arm has a swollen spot and blood covers the gauze.”
“What happened to you?”
“ I had to get blood work. The doc just jabbed the needle here when I told her it was better to do it here. Now look at it. It’s a fucking mess.”
I also got blood work done the day before. The insertion site is clean, healing. I wonder, for the millionth time, whether I get the better treatment because of how I look and speak compared to Tony. Actually, I don’t wonder at all.
Stevie and I get the First Aid kit. We don’t have an ice pack, but we do have a frozen stick of mozzerella. Tony ties the mozzerella to his arm and continues to scrub pots.
“If that starts to hurt, you go right back to the hospital,” says Stevie.
I wander out to the dining area to the beat of munching.
“Hey Natalie. Do you celebrate Chanukah?”
“I try.”
“Can I ask you something?” Kenny doesn’t wait for my answer. “Did you lose anyone in Australia? Did you know anyone.”
“Thankfully no. But so awful. So unbelievably awful.”
“Do you think that the Enlightenment was good for the Jews?”
Kenny is a savant. I am stunned by his knowledge, his memory. It kills me that this magnificent man with this magnificent brain is here.
I really need to get back to the kitchen. The meals that Stevie and I put in are probably burning and people are hungry, but I sit down for a few minutes of connection and of light.
My shift ends, Mark holds the door open.
“Thank you, sir! Merry Christmas,” I say cheerfully.
“I don’t have anything at home that says “Christmas. Nothing. It might as well be any other time of the year.”
I reach onto my head and grab the Christmas reindeer ears that all of the volunteers wore today.
“Here you go! Take these!!”
Mark puts them on his head, reaches into his pocket, and presents me with a pink Chanukah candle.