The Last Jewish Virgin

Chapter 21

126 21 I t was a balmy fall evening, and the sky was clear. I’d calmed myself as best I could after my phone conversation with Tante Molly, and I’d taken the subway to the midtown hotel that was hosting the New Age workshop. As I stepped through the hotel doors, reminding myself once again to breathe, I spotted Colin waiting for me in a red velvet chair on the other side of the spacious lobby. I made my way through a group of Japanese businessmen carrying identical slim laptops and wearing name tags on their lapels. As I got close to him, I noticed that Colin had tucked his wavy blond hair behind his ears, which made him look even more boyish than usual. He was wearing the Wonder Woman T-shirt, khaki pants, and bright purple sneakers. Had he also known about purple being a New Age color, or was this a total coincidence? “I’ve paid for our registration.” He eased his body gracefully from the velvet chair, standing so close to me I could take in his familiar aftershave and sugar-sweet breath. “Twenty bucks each,” he added, smiling mischievously. “Pretty cheap for time travel.” Was he the kind of man—if one existed—who genuinely enjoyed taking care of a woman, and not just in return for some sort of sexual quid pro quo? He reached out and lightly touched my waist. Janice Eidus 127 “Maybe we should have registered for the workshop in ‘Couple Chakra Massage’ instead.” From his pocket he pulled the New Age Center’s brochure. He must have been looking through it while waiting for me. “Massaging your chakras would be fun, Lilith .” He smiled a crooked, flirtatious grin, and my body pulsed with happiness. Then he noticed the pendant resting between my breasts. “You’re wearing it again.” He frowned, looking as if he’d just tasted a sharp lemon. I said nothing, embarrassed. I felt like a bleary-eyed junkie addicted to the necklace. Together, we began climbing the thickly carpeted, steep staircase leading to the mezzanine. The workshop was to be held in “The White Room.” Without hesitation, Colin opened the door to the room, and I was struck by the absence of color: freshly painted white walls; immaculate, furry, white wallto -wall carpeting; rows of bright white track lights along the ceiling ; and, hanging on the wall, a few spare paintings, each consisting of white paint brushed against more white paint. I felt as if I were stepping into an avalanche of blinding snow. There wasn’t a single chair. Instead, about eight couples sat in a circle on the thick white carpet. A few of them were in beautiful , twisted-pretzel yoga positions. Colin and I hung back in the doorway, although everyone in the circle smiled warmly at us, not seeming at all put off by the fact we were so much younger than they were. None of them wore a jot of purple. Finding courage, I moved my fingers to Colin’s wrist, where his strong pulse ticked. An attractive, forty-ish woman with perfect posture waved us in. She wore a wide-brimmed, grassy-looking hat and a shimmering crystal dangling from a long strand of beads around her neck. “Come join us,” she smiled, speaking with a hint of a Russian accent . “We’re the Past Life Crew.” “Sure. Why not?” Colin said, playfully. He took my hand as we entered the room and lowered ourselves onto the soft, white carpet near the grassy-hatted woman. At the same moment, a striking-looking man walked in. He was over six feet tall and had a shiny, bald head. He wore immaculately white drawstring yoga 128 The Last Jewish Virgin pants and a matching tank top. In an instant, whatever sense of comfort I had vanished. His smile was faux beatific, exactly what I’d always feared about New Agers, whom I’d pictured as insincere beneath their enlightened demeanors. With long strides, he approached Colin and me. “We’ve not met. I’m Les,” he said formally, bowing slightly . I recognized his voice. He was the jazzed-up person I’d spoken to when I’d called The Center. Now I gathered that he was also the workshop leader. “Colin and Lilith,” Colin introduced us, letting go of my hand in order to shake hands with Les. And...