Blair had to chuckle at that. He knew Michael's mother. She gave new meaning to the phrase 'control freak.' "At least you had family there."
Michael sighed. "I suppose. What brings this out now anyway?"
Blair folded his arms across his chest. "I've been having dreams about it after all this time. Can you believe it?"
"Anything close to the ones I had about my mother telling the Rabbi how to run his synagogue."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Nah. It's just I'm starting to feel like something was missing. Ya know?"
Michael shook his head. "No. Blair, trust me. You're better off the way it was. Simple, no embarrassing speeches..."
"Huh?"
"Oh, man, that's right. That's what you missed." He laughed at a memory. "Me in front of the entire congregation. My father draped the prayer shawl on me and then... then it came."
"What came?"
"The SPEECHES, man. I'm telling you. My parents and brother each looked me in the eye, in front of all these people, mind you, and told me what they felt about me and kissed me on the lips." Michael shook his head as if to shake off the whole thing. Reaching for his can of pop he added, "Now that definitely was being a man. Being able to accept that with the whole world watching." He took a drink and added as an aside, "My dad had this thing about the lips, something about mutuality... sharing... something like that." He paused to notice that Blair had turned pensive. "Are you still with me?"
Blair blinked. "Yeah, I heard you."
Michael leaned forward. "Oh, come on now. Don't tell me that that is what you feel was missing..."
Meanwhile in another office on campus...
"Professor Futterman?"
"Yes."
Jim offered his hand. "I'm Detective Ellison. I spoke with you earlier." He was taken aback by the woman's appearance. Somehow when he had talked with the head of Jewish Studies earlier the thought of a female professor had sparked images of a matronly woman, hair in a tight bun with glasses perched at the end of a pointed nose. The woman he faced reminded him more of... well... Blair. She was short with long, very long dark curly hair, casually dressed in jeans, turtleneck and a denim shirt. Her smile was inviting as she greeted him deep brown eyes meeting his blue. As she shook his hand he said, "Thanks for meeting with me."
Michelle Futterman rounded her desk. "It sounded important. Have a seat."
Jim took the chair opposite her as she sat. "It is. Like I told you on the phone..."
"About Blair." She hadn't meant to interrupt.
Jim nodded. "He's been talking a lot, and I mean a lot about this Bar Mitzvah thing he had. Talks like he wants another one. If you can even do that. I think he feels something was missing from his. I've got to do something. He's driving me crazy."
"Detective," she began.
"Jim."
"Jim, I spoke with you long enough to know that's not the only reason." She was never one to beat around the bush.
Jim smiled. "You're right. Anyway, I thought this thing would pass. But it seems to really be bugging him.
"So you called me."
Jim rubbed his hand over his face. "I just don't know enough about this stuff to know what to do for him. I figured a Professor of Jewish Studies... who also happens to know Blair..." He raised his hands as if passing the ball to her.
"Well, I have given it some thought based upon what you told me this morning."
"And."
Michelle folded her arms. "I'm not totally convinced that Blair wants to repeat an entire Bar Mitzvah ceremony. But I do believe you're correct about something missing from the service he had."
"And that would be?"
Michelle leaned forward amused. "You," she informed him matter-of-factly.
"Me?" Jim was confused. "I didn't even know him then. How could he..."
"Not you THEN. He missed a close male relative, any male relative at all really." She rose and moved to sit on the edge of her desk closer to the detective. "Truth is he didn't have one... until now."
Jim massaged his temples. "So now he's feeling the loss." He lowered his hands. "Guess that makes sense. But what can I do about it. I mean had I been there what would my role have been?"
"It depends on the synagogue. Many developed their own traditions with these things. Commonly, I suppose you would have presented him with his first prayer shawl and said a few sentimental words."
"Well, where do I get one of these prayer shawls?"
"You're going to do this for him?"
"Look, I didn't come all the way out here to talk with you to kill some time. He's hurting."
"Okay. Okay," Michelle relented. She turned and snatched a piece of paper and a pen. Scribbling an address she said, "It's a bit of a drive from here. But they'll fix you up with something nice." She handed him the paper as he rose.
"Professor..."
"Michelle."
"Michelle, thanks."
"Michelle smiled. "I hope I was right, that this helps."
Jim returned the grin. "Me too."
The Loft
Jim was late. Very late. Blair ate dinner alone and silently stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. It's the Bar Mitzvah thing, Blair thought. Babbled about it so much that he's sick of listening to me. He probably went somewhere, anywhere for a nice quiet meal and an evening uncomplicated by my insecurities.
Blair sat on the couch and surfed through the meager offerings of Cascade's cable service. He wished Jim would come home. When he did he would promise never to mention that rite of passage ritual again ever.
It was another hour before he heard the key turn in the lock. He rose from the couch as Jim entered the loft carrying a package.
"You should have called to say you'd be late," Blair stated.
Jim closed the door. "Sorry, about that, Chief," he said in a rather poor imitation of Don Adams." Blair rolled his eyes.
Jim changed his mode. "No, really, I'm sorry. I had something to do... to get. You're right. I should have called you."
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry too. I know I was annoying you with my Bar Mitzvah and... I understand that you wanted to be someplace else."
"I went to see Professor Futterman at Rainier today," Jim said over Blair's last words.
"You saw Michelle Futterman?" Blair was puzzled. "Why?"
"Because I may know a lot about protecting the city but I don't know squat about Bar Mitzvahs." The corners of Jim's mouth tilted upward. "By the way, you ought to ask that lady out. She's pretty terrific."
Blair chuckled. "No. She and I grew up together. I'd feel like I was dating my older sister."
Jim seemed to think about that possibility then snapped back to the situation at hand. "Anyway, she felt that you really weren't interested in a repeat performance... You're not... are you?"
Blair shook his head.
"I didn't think so either. She did, however, tell me how I could help." Jim reached into the package and withdrew the prayer shawl he'd selected. Blair's eyes went wide. "I hope you like this one. There were so many." Jim's choice had been one that was tasteful, yet nice. It was white with blue and had a prayer stitched with silver thread.
Blair had to swallow hard as he watched in awe as Jim lovingly draped the shawl across his shoulders. He straightened it and smoothed the fringe. Then he placed his hands on Blair's face and tilted his head upward to look him in the eye.
"You already know what you are to me," he began, "Guide, partner, friend, brother. You may not know that I am very proud of you. And I am proud that you would have wanted me to have been a part of such a milestone in your life. I will be there for many more, though. Count on it."
Tears spilled from Blair's eyes and began their descent down his cheeks, trickling over Jim's fingers. He was starting to feel grateful that there wasn't an audience for this moment.
*Then Jim leaned down and pressed his lips lightly to Blair's. Blair found himself automatically returning the kiss. He understood perfectly Michael Leonard's comment about mutuality.
When Jim pulled back, his hands still on Blair's face Blair asked, "Did Professor Futterman tell you to do that?"
"No." Jim shook his head. "My heart did."
THE END