Light Fell by Evan Fallenberg Read Free Book Online Page A

on either side of him and in front of him on the table. Words mounted one another on the page, rolling and tumbling and frolicking together in a passionate riot. He had had too much wine and felt at once too relaxed and too agitated to be competent, so he tugged at locks of his hair, gathering clumps, first pulling, then releasing, hoping to call himself to attention. He kept his head bowed to the page in front of him, watching the words perform stunts, enjoying the negative image as he moved his eyes from print to blank space and back again. He did not hear Yoel approach as much as felt him draw near. Joseph could sense the tread of Yoel’s stockinged feet as they led him toward something altogether new.
    Yoel cleared a space and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, legs wide apart, encompassing all of Joseph and the books surrounding him in the angle of his large body. He leaned across the narrow space of floor between them and closed the book on Joseph’s lap, and Joseph noticed, without looking up, that Yoel had failed to bring his fingers to his lips, despite the fact that the book he had just closed was a holy text. He watched as the last printed words that had been taunting him faded into the black cover, the edges of the classical Hebrew letters disappearing first, then their legs and heads and finally their trunks. Still Joseph did not look up, for he was afraid of what would happen. He knew the look he would find on Yoel’s face and he knew he would feel responsible, guilty. A fine rabbi, a brilliant scholar, a—
    He saw Yoel’s hand reach out, and when it touched him, landing gently on his right cheek, Joseph was surprised it did not scorch him. The hand was cool and dry, its touch light but firm. Joseph held his breath while the hand moved across his face, skimming the surface of his skin. It slid to the back of his neck, still light and gentle, but insistent now, just a little, moving Joseph’s head forward in imperceptible degrees, the fingers moving, massaging. Joseph’s eyes were closed, but he smelled Yoel’s beard as it grazed his cheek and he turned into it like a blind man to sound. It seemed to Joseph that there were no other movements or sounds or emotions anywhere, that at that particular point in time the universe was focused on this house, this room, these two men.
    A wave of cool air rolled against Joseph’s neck and cheek as Yoel leaned away from him. He brought Joseph’s hands together and held them in his own, concealing them and taking possession. He kissed Joseph’s fingers, curling and unfurling them, bringing them to his own face. Joseph looked with his eyes and with his hands into the visage of this man he had known such a short time, and all the desperate longing he had known fell away from him, stone walls of protection crumbling to sand and dust, and in their place rose a bright, hard passion. Joseph removed his hands and waited for Yoel to open his eyes, then kissed him, watching his eyes, kissing him at the sides of his mouth where the hairs of his mustache grew long and gold. Then he, too, leaned back, and waited.
    Yoel took Joseph by the shoulders and eased him down into the sofa until he lay flat, then dropped to the floor, only his head above the cushions. He spread his arms like the wings of a soaring eagle and touched Joseph’s head and feet. He lay his head on Joseph’s stomach and played his hands up and down his body, stopping to explore and examine. Joseph felt Yoel was learning him, that he was committing the text of Joseph’s body to memory. A genius, an illui , so why not this, too? Why not use his gift on Joseph? Yoel’s large head lay comfortably upon him, like a precious egg, Joseph’s middle section a nest, and Joseph was reluctantly reminded of Rebecca, how her body seemed always to jab him so that he was forced to change positions every minute or so.
    Yoel raised his head and for a moment looked at the body laid out before him. He seemed to be at a