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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Philosophy/Religion/Spirituality
- Published: 07/15/2024
Cucumber Blossoms
Born 1945, M, from Boston/MA, United States“The other day,” Doris Abernathy said, “I noticed you off in a corner by the water cooler around ten thirty. Your lips were moving but no words were coming out of your mouth.” A modestly attractive brunette on the front side of thirty with high cheekbones and an arched nose, Doris worked in the supermarket bakery. Over the holidays, she gained weight which gave her a decidedly matronly look.
Nathan Rosenblatt was crouched down on his hands and knees clearing debris from a broken spaghetti jar splattered across the supermarket floor “I thought you might be in some sort of emotional distress so I spoke to Mitzi, the office manager, and she said that you were an orthodox Jew and simply saying your daily prayers.”
Nathan teased a shard of broken glass slathered in tomato sauce off the floor gingerly between a thumb and index finger and deposited it in a paper bag. Most of the mess was gone and all that remained was to mop and dry the greasy floor. “That’s true. I’m Hassidic.” When the woman showed no signs of leaving, Nathan inquired, “Was there anything else?”
Doris gently nudged a carton of Rigatoni which was hanging precariously close to the edge of a shelf back in its proper place. “My boy friend cheated on me last year and I took him back. Now I figure he’s up to his old tricks.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“I thought it might be a good idea to talk to someone… get some advice from a different perspective.”
Nathan swirled a string mop in a bucket of clean water and began scrubbing the floor clean. “And you want my opinion?” He stared at the woman in disbelief. “I’m a Hassidic Jew, who studies the Talmud and religious commentaries not Dear Abby!”
“What,” Doris ignored the rebuttal, “does the Talmud say about infidelity?”
Nathan thought a moment. He rubbed his hairy chin, cracked his knuckles and inched his dark frame glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Follow me.” He led the way through the bread aisle, past dairy and frozen foods. When they finally reached fresh produce, he pulled up in front of a refrigerated bin and yanked a huge cucumber from the display case. “In the Talmud, the book of Jewish wisdom, it’s written that the quality of a cucumber can be recognized when it is still a blossom.”
Doris’ chocolaty eyes scrunched nearly shut and her face blanched a pearlescent white. “What the hell does that mean?”
Not the least bit perturbed by her frigid outburst, Nathan continued, “Many of a person’s traits and qualities are already visible in their earliest years. Your boyfriend’s an incorrigible schmuck; he’ll never change. Thirty years from now in middle age he’ll still be ogling hot babes. Get rid of the bum.”
“That’s what you brought me to fresh vegetables for… a lecture on cucumbers?”
“The best way to predict your future is to create it,” Nathan refused to give an inch. “That’s what the Talmud teaches.”
“I should have known better than to seek advice from a religious crackpot!” Doris threw her hands up over her head in futility and rushed back to work.
* * * * *
After the cucumber blossoms debacle, Nathan Rosenblatt kept a wide berth of Doris Abernathy. Whenever they passed in the store he either averted his eyes or pretended to be preoccupied. Friday afternoon he was wandering the parking lot collecting wayward shopping carts. “Why do you dress like that?”
Nathan didn’t have to look up to recognize the surly voice. “It’s Jewish tradition, that’s all.”
“Black pants and a white shirt.” Doris navigated a metal cart that had been abandoned alongside a blue Honda into the burgeoning train. “You never get the urge to wear Bermuda shorts or a fashionable, designer shirt?”
Nathan simply shrugged and said nothing.
“And those weird things hanging down from your ears… what’s that all about?”
Nathan inadvertently reached up and stroked a lush curl cascading a good six inches down the side of his face to the shirt collar. “Payot… they’re called payot and are worn by men and boys in the Orthodox Jewish community.”
“But why?”
The line of shopping carts had grown too long, too heavy. There was no way he could push them back to the front of the store without causing a hernia. “The rule is that a man must not cut or trim his hair within a special facial region. The boundaries of this prohibited zone are on each side of the face - roughly between the middle of the ear and the eye, below a bone which runs horizontally across that region.”
“Anything else?” Nathan was getting tired of her gruff tone.
“You’re so damn quiet. At the staff Christmas party last year you hardly spoke two words to anyone.”
Nathan blushed and averted his eyes until he regained a modicum of composure. “The religious commentaries suggest that silence is a fence around wisdom, but I’m just horribly shy and never quite know what to say in mixed company.”
“About my domestic troubles,” Doris continued, shifting gears, “you got any additional, metaphysical words of advice?”
“The last time you went off in a huff,” Nathan replied. “I can’t imagine you seeking more of the same.” When there was no immediate response, he twirled an index finger inadvertently around one of his sidelocks, a reflexive gesture, and said, “If an ox runs and trips, a horse is put in its place.”
Doris gawked at Nathan Rosenblatt as though the man had lost his mind. “One minute you go off on an incoherent rant about cucumber blossoms, and next we’re talking barnyard animals?”
“It’s meant as a parable,” Nathan said tersely. “You don’t take the words literally.” He was growing increasingly unhinged by the woman’s snippy nature.
“Less-than-ideal relationships are often hard to break. An ox is far superior to a horse in strength. Yet, when the ox is not available, the master has no choice but to use a horse for his work. And once that happens, the master becomes accustomed to the horse and finds it difficult to switch back to an ox.” Nathan gave the train of shopping carts a violent shove, but the wheels never budged, not even a fraction of an inch. “Get rid of the Lothario, the cheating bastard and find a decent guy who cherished both your physical and inner beauty.”
“Here, let me help.” Doris slid in next to Nathan and together they negotiated the absurdly long line of carts back to the front of the store.
“A hungry dog will even eat dung,” Nathan muttered after wiping his brow and catching his breath from the physical exertion.
“Another one of your pithy sayings?”
“The rabbis say that when, we are easily drawn to solutions that we know will never work, like dung that cannot nourish.” Nathan suddenly reached out and forcefully grabbed Doris Abernathy by the forearm. “Shit is shit, no matter how hungry we may become. Get rid of the asshole!”
* * * * *
The following week Nathan worked the receiving dock, supervising the unloading of produce and inspecting bills of lading to make sure that the type and quantity of freight was correct. He was sipping a cup of tepid coffee in the employee lounge late in the afternoon when Doris slipped into the room. “How did you make out with your boyfriend?”
She brushed a strand of auburn hair from her eyes. “After you told me about the cucumber blossoms I went home and threw all his clothes and personal effects out the second floor window into the street. That was the last I ever saw of him.”
“But you asked a similar question only a few days later in the parking lot.”
“I just wanted to hear more of your mystical gibberish.”
Nathan lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips but thought better of it and set the drink down again. “I’ve a problem.”
“Your Talmud has answers for everything.”
“Not in this case.”
“And why not?”
“The Talmud normally refers to a collection of writings compiled in the 5th century. That would be about sixteen hundred years ago. A lot of weird stuff has happened in the interim.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“I’ve fallen in love with a woman and haven’t a clue how she feels about me.”
“So go and find out.”
“I’m afraid she’ll laugh in my face.”
“When did you first realize you had feelings for this woman?”
“Several weeks back when I brought her to the fresh produce aisle and told her about cucumber blossoms.”
Doris leaned forward across the table and planted a feathery soft kiss on Nathan’s lips. “The best way to predict your future is to create it.” She kissed him a second time for good measure. “That’s what the Talmud teaches.”
Cucumber Blossoms(Barry)
“The other day,” Doris Abernathy said, “I noticed you off in a corner by the water cooler around ten thirty. Your lips were moving but no words were coming out of your mouth.” A modestly attractive brunette on the front side of thirty with high cheekbones and an arched nose, Doris worked in the supermarket bakery. Over the holidays, she gained weight which gave her a decidedly matronly look.
Nathan Rosenblatt was crouched down on his hands and knees clearing debris from a broken spaghetti jar splattered across the supermarket floor “I thought you might be in some sort of emotional distress so I spoke to Mitzi, the office manager, and she said that you were an orthodox Jew and simply saying your daily prayers.”
Nathan teased a shard of broken glass slathered in tomato sauce off the floor gingerly between a thumb and index finger and deposited it in a paper bag. Most of the mess was gone and all that remained was to mop and dry the greasy floor. “That’s true. I’m Hassidic.” When the woman showed no signs of leaving, Nathan inquired, “Was there anything else?”
Doris gently nudged a carton of Rigatoni which was hanging precariously close to the edge of a shelf back in its proper place. “My boy friend cheated on me last year and I took him back. Now I figure he’s up to his old tricks.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“I thought it might be a good idea to talk to someone… get some advice from a different perspective.”
Nathan swirled a string mop in a bucket of clean water and began scrubbing the floor clean. “And you want my opinion?” He stared at the woman in disbelief. “I’m a Hassidic Jew, who studies the Talmud and religious commentaries not Dear Abby!”
“What,” Doris ignored the rebuttal, “does the Talmud say about infidelity?”
Nathan thought a moment. He rubbed his hairy chin, cracked his knuckles and inched his dark frame glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Follow me.” He led the way through the bread aisle, past dairy and frozen foods. When they finally reached fresh produce, he pulled up in front of a refrigerated bin and yanked a huge cucumber from the display case. “In the Talmud, the book of Jewish wisdom, it’s written that the quality of a cucumber can be recognized when it is still a blossom.”
Doris’ chocolaty eyes scrunched nearly shut and her face blanched a pearlescent white. “What the hell does that mean?”
Not the least bit perturbed by her frigid outburst, Nathan continued, “Many of a person’s traits and qualities are already visible in their earliest years. Your boyfriend’s an incorrigible schmuck; he’ll never change. Thirty years from now in middle age he’ll still be ogling hot babes. Get rid of the bum.”
“That’s what you brought me to fresh vegetables for… a lecture on cucumbers?”
“The best way to predict your future is to create it,” Nathan refused to give an inch. “That’s what the Talmud teaches.”
“I should have known better than to seek advice from a religious crackpot!” Doris threw her hands up over her head in futility and rushed back to work.
* * * * *
After the cucumber blossoms debacle, Nathan Rosenblatt kept a wide berth of Doris Abernathy. Whenever they passed in the store he either averted his eyes or pretended to be preoccupied. Friday afternoon he was wandering the parking lot collecting wayward shopping carts. “Why do you dress like that?”
Nathan didn’t have to look up to recognize the surly voice. “It’s Jewish tradition, that’s all.”
“Black pants and a white shirt.” Doris navigated a metal cart that had been abandoned alongside a blue Honda into the burgeoning train. “You never get the urge to wear Bermuda shorts or a fashionable, designer shirt?”
Nathan simply shrugged and said nothing.
“And those weird things hanging down from your ears… what’s that all about?”
Nathan inadvertently reached up and stroked a lush curl cascading a good six inches down the side of his face to the shirt collar. “Payot… they’re called payot and are worn by men and boys in the Orthodox Jewish community.”
“But why?”
The line of shopping carts had grown too long, too heavy. There was no way he could push them back to the front of the store without causing a hernia. “The rule is that a man must not cut or trim his hair within a special facial region. The boundaries of this prohibited zone are on each side of the face - roughly between the middle of the ear and the eye, below a bone which runs horizontally across that region.”
“Anything else?” Nathan was getting tired of her gruff tone.
“You’re so damn quiet. At the staff Christmas party last year you hardly spoke two words to anyone.”
Nathan blushed and averted his eyes until he regained a modicum of composure. “The religious commentaries suggest that silence is a fence around wisdom, but I’m just horribly shy and never quite know what to say in mixed company.”
“About my domestic troubles,” Doris continued, shifting gears, “you got any additional, metaphysical words of advice?”
“The last time you went off in a huff,” Nathan replied. “I can’t imagine you seeking more of the same.” When there was no immediate response, he twirled an index finger inadvertently around one of his sidelocks, a reflexive gesture, and said, “If an ox runs and trips, a horse is put in its place.”
Doris gawked at Nathan Rosenblatt as though the man had lost his mind. “One minute you go off on an incoherent rant about cucumber blossoms, and next we’re talking barnyard animals?”
“It’s meant as a parable,” Nathan said tersely. “You don’t take the words literally.” He was growing increasingly unhinged by the woman’s snippy nature.
“Less-than-ideal relationships are often hard to break. An ox is far superior to a horse in strength. Yet, when the ox is not available, the master has no choice but to use a horse for his work. And once that happens, the master becomes accustomed to the horse and finds it difficult to switch back to an ox.” Nathan gave the train of shopping carts a violent shove, but the wheels never budged, not even a fraction of an inch. “Get rid of the Lothario, the cheating bastard and find a decent guy who cherished both your physical and inner beauty.”
“Here, let me help.” Doris slid in next to Nathan and together they negotiated the absurdly long line of carts back to the front of the store.
“A hungry dog will even eat dung,” Nathan muttered after wiping his brow and catching his breath from the physical exertion.
“Another one of your pithy sayings?”
“The rabbis say that when, we are easily drawn to solutions that we know will never work, like dung that cannot nourish.” Nathan suddenly reached out and forcefully grabbed Doris Abernathy by the forearm. “Shit is shit, no matter how hungry we may become. Get rid of the asshole!”
* * * * *
The following week Nathan worked the receiving dock, supervising the unloading of produce and inspecting bills of lading to make sure that the type and quantity of freight was correct. He was sipping a cup of tepid coffee in the employee lounge late in the afternoon when Doris slipped into the room. “How did you make out with your boyfriend?”
She brushed a strand of auburn hair from her eyes. “After you told me about the cucumber blossoms I went home and threw all his clothes and personal effects out the second floor window into the street. That was the last I ever saw of him.”
“But you asked a similar question only a few days later in the parking lot.”
“I just wanted to hear more of your mystical gibberish.”
Nathan lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips but thought better of it and set the drink down again. “I’ve a problem.”
“Your Talmud has answers for everything.”
“Not in this case.”
“And why not?”
“The Talmud normally refers to a collection of writings compiled in the 5th century. That would be about sixteen hundred years ago. A lot of weird stuff has happened in the interim.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“I’ve fallen in love with a woman and haven’t a clue how she feels about me.”
“So go and find out.”
“I’m afraid she’ll laugh in my face.”
“When did you first realize you had feelings for this woman?”
“Several weeks back when I brought her to the fresh produce aisle and told her about cucumber blossoms.”
Doris leaned forward across the table and planted a feathery soft kiss on Nathan’s lips. “The best way to predict your future is to create it.” She kissed him a second time for good measure. “That’s what the Talmud teaches.”
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Denise Arnault
07/16/2024You are very good at putting people of different backgrounds together and having it work out. I like that! Another good story.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Barry
07/17/2024Maimonides said - I'm paraphrasing here - that we become free only by becoming slaves to the word of God. Nathan understands this basic truth. Doris realizes that the Hasidic Jew, who dresses funny and talks in metaphoric parables, is in his own perverse way the 'real deal'.
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