The Ritual Bath

“It’s probably a good idea for the time being to keep them closed at night.” Decker held the door open for her. “Let’s get going.”

Rina stepped outside and basked in the fresh air. The night had cooled a bit. No moon was out, but starlight filtered through the thick branches of the eucalyptus and pines. A lone nightingale sang its aria to the spangled heavens, the crickets provided the chorus. She tried not to look at the detective, but her eyes kept drifting toward his face. He finally caught her glance and smiled. She quickly lowered her gaze and kept it fixed on the ground. Their footsteps seemed abnormally loud. Finally, she spoke just to ease her anxiety.

“I take it Rav Schulman was helpful?”

“Invaluable.” Decker noticed she was walking a good ten feet away from him.

“He’s a brilliant man,” she said.

“I can believe that.”

“He’s a lawyer as well as a rabbi, you know.”

“No, I didn’t.” Decker slowed his pace slightly. “Where’d he go to law school?”

“First in Europe. Then he graduated from Columbia. That’s in New York.”

Decker smiled. “Yes, I know.”

Rina felt embarrassed. “Yes, I’m sure you do know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I—I’m very upset.”

“You have good reason to be.”

She didn’t answer, feeling she’d talked too much.

They walked a few more steps, then Decker spoke: “Well, the rabbi and I have something in common. I was a lawyer once. I even practiced for a whole six months.”

“That’s interesting,” she said politely.

She doesn’t give a damn about you, asshole, so cut the bullshit and do your job.

Decker said nothing.

The silence became tangible.

“Why did you give it up?” she asked to break it, and immediately added, “I don’t mean to get personal.”

“No problem. I became a cop.”

“Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

Now she was sounding intrusive—as big a yenta as Chana. Why was she running off like this with a total stranger …

He let out a small laugh. “Yes, it usually is.”

They walked the rest of the way without speaking.

Sarah Libba was with a policewoman in the backseat of a patrol car. In the front sat the partner—a beefy man with a pencil-line mustache. In the background was radio noise: clipped calls and static. The female officer helped Sarah Libba out of the car, then Rina took her arm and led her inside the mikvah. Decker dismissed the uniforms, saying he’d take it from here.

Rina flicked on the lights.

“It will take about forty-five minutes, Detective,” she said.

“Do what’s necessary.”

Rina took her into the bathroom, went to the tub, and turned the hot water spigot full blast. They waited together and watched the steaming water pour into the bath. Rina felt awkward. She suddenly realized how people must have felt during the shiva, her mourning period for Yitzchak. She’d talked a lot during those seven days, possessed with an overpowering sensation to speak about him and his death. Some people had been extremely uncomfortable as she rambled on about a dead man. But others were relieved that the burden of conversation had been lifted from their shoulders. What would Sarah Libba want now?

She felt she must say something.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

The other woman looked at her with tears in her eyes.

“I’m truly lucky,” she said softly. “I thank Hashem that I’m alive. I would be a fool to think otherwise.”

The two of them embraced, then sobbed.

“Of all the people who could have found me, I was glad it was you,” she whispered, still hugging Rina desperately. “You understand pain and know how to deal with it. I don’t think someone else would have been as calm.”

“I’m glad I was helpful to you.”

Sarah Libba broke away. “You were.”

“Was the exam bad?”

“No, it was like a regular exam.”

“That’s good.”

Sarah tried a smile, but her face crumpled. Rina took her in her arms again.

“You’re safe now,” she cooed and rocked her. “It’s all over.”

“It will never be over,” the other woman wailed.

“You’re safe.”

Sarah cried for a while, then reluctantly broke away. “I’m all right, Rina. I’d like to be left alone. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“I’ll go heat the mikvah and wait for you. Just come out when you’re ready.”

Forty minutes later, Sarah came out of the adjoining door, wrapped in a white sheet. Her hair was dripping wet but free of tangles, and on her feet were paper sandals. She took off the slippers, stepped onto the bathmat, and dropped the sheet to reveal her naked body.

Rina immediately saw the ugly bruises on her chest, buttocks, and left thigh—deep red and raised, as if the milky skin had erupted in anger. She was seized with sadness.