Chapter 8

Abner put the phone down and sat at his desk, staring at the picture that rested off to one side. He smiled at that picture, and lifted it up to hold it closer. He ran his finger across the glass, as if by just touching it he could get the answers to the questions that were plaguing him. His heart was aching too, from all he had seen and heard. It had been impossible to understand how someone so young could be in such pain as Robbie was, and yet the pain was real, as he had felt it for himself.

It had been a fruitless evening and he could still feel Joshua’s stare as he had left, and his own heart was torn into pieces, as he could see the hunger in his son’s eyes for answers that he just didn’t have. The frustration was as bad for him and his wife as it was for his son and yet he had patted him on the head, told him to rest while he went to work to try and find some of those answers.

He had called Sam Ginsberg and now he had a new number to call. He needed to talk to a good lawyer, and while Sam seemed less than willing to help, he finally had relented and gave Abner a couple of names. He told him that it wasn’t really proper for him to interfere, but Abner had deflected his advice. After all, he was the Rabbi, not Sam and if he stopped to think about it, he was annoyed at the soft soothing voice of the lawyer. How dare Sam try to influence him or his actions, after all he was the Rabbi, the spiritual leader and teacher for the community, so who better to get involved in problems like this?

The man just didn’t understand, but that was the trouble with many today. They paid lip service to their religion, many attended or joined simply because it was expected of them. Sure, some attended services, some were even well versed in the words and yet he would bet dollars to donuts that very few, if any, really understood the words or the meanings of those words. Even his own boys didn’t understand it, didn’t know that being Jewish wasn’t a religion only, it was the whole smear, the whole deal.

What other ‘religion’ had dietary laws as well as civil laws? Did any of the goyim know that while much of the old Jewish laws were handed down not because of some symbolism but from a real need? Did they know that the reason Jews didn’t mix meat with milk was because of how it led to upset stomachs, sure that was before refrigeration and yet still, there were many who couldn’t mix the two because it caused them pain. No, being Jewish wasn’t just a religion, it really was a whole life style.

Abner pushed back from his desk, placing the picture of his wife back in its place and he kissed the tip of his finger and pressed it once more against her face, knowing that in his heart there was joy, because she was his and he was hers. That was all that mattered and he strolled out of the office and into the temple itself. He stared around at the small little chapel, the sun shining in from a host of elegant stained glass windows.

His was the oldest synagogue in Western Canada, built back in the late 1800’s and in the Jewish cemetery there were graves from as far back as the mid 1800’s and yet it really was like any other synagogue. The front pews were cushioned, for those who paid the premium membership dues, and as he walked up and rested by them, he felt a sort of disgust in his heart. In the past, these were the chairs for the aged, a sign of respect and yet he knew that come the high holidays it would be filled not by the Senior’s of the congregation, but only by those who had the gelt1.

1 Slang for money

Walking up the dais, he leaned with his back resting on the pulpit, the place where it all happened, his eyes fixed to the simple wooden ark that was placed in the wall. His hands trembled as he wiped his brow and stared at the simple wooden case, knowing that inside were the Torahs, the books that held all the answers he would need, or so they had said at Rabbinic school, but they were wrong. The answers weren’t all there, what lay inside was merely a history of a race’s struggle to survive in God’s world on earth. How things had changed and yet how they hadn’t changed at all! The Bible was full of such rich stories, of how man tried to please God and yet how he never really reached that point and now here he was, after almost 35 years of being a Rabbi, willing to put all that to the test simply because a voice in his heart told him he should.

What a strange world it was, what a strange God he followed too, and Robbie was right, he didn’t have the answers but he did know that no matter what he did, even if all of it were wrong, that in the end, God still would love him. That really was the difference between him and so many, he actually did believe in God’s love and maybe that was what it was all about.

He walked closer now, and he ran his old wrinkled hand across the soft dark wood of the closed doors to the ark and he felt a strange calm enter his body. For a brief instant he felt the fire in his belly and all of his fears, all of his doubts began to shiver and tremble as if they were suddenly facing a terrible force that was hunting them. He couldn’t understand it, but touching the wooden doors always seemed to make him feel alive, feel like he was truly making a difference in the world, and it didn’t matter if the wood was 100 years old or recently cut and stained. It always made him feel so alive, and he had told his wife once, and she had just smiled, saying, ‘Nu? What else would you expect when you touch HIS doors?’

Slowly he sat down on the steps, his back against the railing as he just stared between the Ark and the empty pews out in front. Once more he began to question himself, wondering if he truly wanted to be a rabbi? The goyim were lucky, many of their clergy had felt a calling, a private revelation that their place was in God’s service, but not many Rabbis’ he had talked to ever admitted to such a vision. He knew his own decision was guided by his desire to prove his father wrong; to prove to him that religion was indeed noble and worthy of being called a profession. At least, that is what he thought, but he wondered, why had he really chosen this path for his life?

Staring at the Ark he smiled, knowing that he would never get that answer until such time as he came face to face with the Creator, and then what difference would it make, he would at least be with HIM and wasn’t that supposed to be enough? The ache in his heart eased a little as he felt the vibration of his phone inside his pants pocket. The miracles of a modern world, no more running to the phone because it came wherever you were, even in the toilet.

Abner “Hello?”

Myron “Rabbi Goldberg? Myron Shecter returning your call.”

Abner “Oh, Mr. Schecter, thank you for calling, Sam Ginsberg recommended you to me, I am in need of a good lawyer for a young friend.”

Myron “Yes, well Sam filled me in a little, are you sure you want to get involved Rabbi? I mean what is he to you, exactly?”

Abner “Does that matter?”

Myron “Yes, I am afraid it does Rabbi, it matters a great deal.”

Abner “I see, well he is a very close friend of my son’s, Joshua; he is like machantenus, you understand Yiddish?”

Myron “A little, he’s like, uh, family? I am afraid, I don’t understand, he’s not related to you is he? He isn’t even Jewish, or so Sam said.”

Abner “Sam says too much, no he isn’t Jewish, and why should that have anything to do with him needing my help?”

Myron “Well, Rabbi I am not trying to pick a fight here, of course it doesn’t matter if he’s Jewish or not, I am just trying to get a clear picture here, like why is it you are so insistent on helping this boy?”

Abner “Is it not enough that he has asked? Mr. Schecter will you help or not? If so, I’ll be happy to explain it all, but until I know, I think I’ll keep the details for whomever is going to do the helping, not the condemning.”

Myron “That’s a little harsh isn’t it Rabbi?”

Abner “Why? Because it is the truth? No, maybe Sam meant well, but your mind, it is already made up and so maybe I should call someone else, nu?”

Myron “Haha, well Sam did say you were feisty, okay

Rabbi, I can’t promise you much, but I can call this

Doctor Macgregor and see what I can do. Then we’ll have to just see what happens; if he refuses, well there are options, but you realize that if the family isn’t supporting you or this Robert Fisher, it could be tough and well, it could be messy Rabbi.”

Abner “Messy? How can doing the right thing be messy? No, listen Mr. Schecter, you know the law, I know what is right. Maybe they are sometimes the same but lately I am not so sure, but I know it is wrong for this boy to be held in that place. He needs help, yes, but from those who care about him, not from those who want to try to prove some theory or hypothesis, so messy Mr. Schecter? No, just that sometimes, doing the right thing shocks some people, so be it.”

Myron “Well, you do have a point, the law isn’t always right, but Rabbi, it is the law, but we can debate that another time. I’ll make some calls and get back to you this evening, shall I call this number or do you have another I should call?”

Abner “I would enjoy that debate, so would my son I think, but yes right now we must concentrate on the task at hand. Call this number please; I always have it with me, even at home. Thank you Mr. Schecter.”

Myron “Okay Rabbi, I’ll be in touch, good bye.”

Abner leaned back against the railing and his eyes were once more dragged over to stare at the polished wooden doors and he could feel the joy in his heart as he felt the calm reaching for him. It really was mystical in a sense, and only Adele knew how he felt at these times and yet, maybe she was right too, that he needed to let his own spirit guide him more, to stop hiding behind the trite sayings and playing to the audience. His job was to teach, not to change the curriculum, which was for the Prophets to do; him, he was just the man to explain it all and make sense out of it, if possible.

Debbie pored over the files spread out on her desk. She couldn’t believe the way the files read, it was a classic case of a kid suffering from some form of abuse, and yet once more the school officials had turned a blind eye to it. Even the Coach had his suspicions, they were so intense he had even made a note of his concerns to the school administration and yet once more, the damn pencil pushers had done nothing about it. There were no calls to the home, none certainly to Social Services, and yet now one of those kids was in EMI for trying to kill himself.

The anger was growing in her face and her co-workers in the office could tell that once more Debbie was on a roll. They knew enough of her facial expressions that when she got like this, they ran for cover. No one dared approach her and some would walk by on tippy toes, afraid to even break in on her concentration for fear of a tongue-lashing. She was like a pit bull and some thought she went overboard, other’s wished they could get as passionate as she did, but the very nature of the job seemed to weigh a person down after time.

The rules stated that a case worker could handle 40 cases, and yet most of them had case loads of over 70 at times, in a bad period it could even skyrocket to over 100 so it was no wonder that mistakes were made or worse, care and passion were tossed aside as a luxury one couldn’t afford if they were to handle all those cases. Many left the service long before they put in their 20 or 30 years simply because they could no longer keep the job separate from their own lives. Some left because they couldn’t hack the stress, or the failures, while others simply wanted a job that paid more and was less of a spiritual burden. Debbie was one who would either burn out before reaching tenure or she would become one more legend in the Service that was filled with both.

Looking at the school records, she saw two boys who were vastly different. Robbie had been a quiet student and yet his record of fights and disagreements with fellow students was well documented. It was strange for a quiet boy to be involved in so many fights, and yet his brother, definitely more out spoken, more aggressive, only had serious problems with his teachers. There were virtually no records of any altercations with fellow students. It was strange, you would expect the aggressive one to have the fighting problem, and yet here it was all reversed, as if the younger one was trying to avoid what he had seen by doing the opposite to what his older brother did.

There were even notes about the sexual conduct of both boys. How the older one was less vocal and boisterous about his activities, while the younger one was clearly deliberately flaunting his actions or at least, alleged actions. She wasn’t to clear on the details, because there seemed to be pages missing from Justin’s report. It was almost as if someone had intentionally edited the file, leaving only crumbs and she wondered if the Coach had been the one; but then, he didn’t strike her as that type. He may not like co-operating, but deliberately alter a student’s records? No, he wasn’t that type; he still had a spark of caring in him.

She picked up the phone and dialled a number she knew by heart, which saddened her immensely. No way should she know the phone number to EMI by memory, nor the extension for the suicide ward but she did. The phone rang and finally was answered; she waited some more while they transferred her to Doctor Macgregor, whom she had a dislike for. He was always touting some damn nonsense, making every case seem like a picture book example of some neurosis. Why couldn’t he understand that it was simply that some people simply lost hope, which it wasn’t that they hated their mother or anything like that, yet he always insisted that it was something deeper, something less spiritual. In short, he pissed her off.

Dr. Macgregor “Doctor Macgregor speaking.”

Debbie “Hello Doctor, it is Debra Winston from Social Services, I am calling about Robert Fisher. I believe you have him there under observation?”

Dr. Macgregor “Fisher? Fisher, oh yes, the gay boy, he’s in suicide watch, yes he is still here, is he yours?”

Debbie “Uh, gay boy? I am sorry, why did you refer to him

as being ‘gay’?”

Dr. Macgregor “Oh well its classic, it was the boyfriend who called it in. I am afraid it is a typical case really, he is ashamed of his choice to be gay so he tried to kill himself to spare his family the shame. His father is a very strong man, so I would say there was a clash there, after all no father wants to know his son, his heir is unwilling to continue the genetic line, it really is a typical case, Ms. Winston.”

Debbie “I see, sounds like you have it all worked out already, and in less than 48 hours too, that must be a record Doctor.”

Dr. Macgregor “Well Ms. Winston, I really don’t expect you to understand. We see a lot of this in my line of work, guilt manifests itself in many forms: they eat too much, drink too much, drug abuse, and in the severe cases, suicide attempts. It really is nothing more than someone being unhappy with the choices they have made; doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, Ms. Winston.”

Debbie “I see, well I need to talk to him anyway Doctor. Will you please make sure the necessary permissions are left at the desk? I plan on talking to Mr Fisher later today.”

Dr. Macgregor “Suit yourself, but you can save the taxpayer’s some money by accepting my diagnosis; however, I know how you people work. So yes, I’ll leave the necessary instructions at reception. Is there anything else? I do have other pressing issues.”

Debbie “No Doctor, that will be fine, oh, one last thing, when are you releasing him?”

Dr. Macgregor “Releasing him? Oh I don’t really know yet, there are a lot of factors to consider still, I really haven’t made that decision yet.”

Debbie “Oh? Well, thank you, I’ll be down later this afternoon, Doctor.”

Dr. Macgregor “Suit yourself, personally it is a waste of time, very classic case, but have it your way. Good bye, Ms Winston.”

The loud click on the line showed that the good Doctor had hung up without waiting for a reply. He really was a shit, a pompous shit too, so she thought as she replaced the receiver on the phone. His anger was raging inside, as she thought about how some people got positions of authority, when really, they weren’t even suited to sweep a sidewalk. Maybe it was because of social medicine that quacks like Macgregor got into such positions, but she knew a fair amount south of the border too, so it just had to be due to government stupidity, something all nations had in common, or so it seemed.

That was another of her pet peeves, the way governments tried to provide some service or another and 9 out of 10 times wound up making the situation worse. She really was torn between the U.S. system where less was supposed to be better and her own system, that said it was a duty of government to provide more. Either way didn’t really matter if you got the job done, only trouble was, neither system was doing that which only added to the confusion, but worse than that, it left the kids vulnerable. To Debbie Winston that was the worse crime imaginable and once more the frown on her face deepened, as she pulled open the police report.

She saw the name listed and reached for her phone book. God, she could remember when the damn thing was easy to lift with one hand and now it was three times the size and mostly for ads for businesses that no longer existed, or some new feature for the telephone. Debbie shook her head, trying to clear it as she felt the wave of hopelessness wash over her. Everything it seemed was piling up and she felt that itch again, across her arm and found herself scratching while searching for the listings under ‘Goldberg’.

It didn’t take her long to find the listings and there really weren’t too many either. The Jewish population wasn’t that large in Victoria and she wondered if she was embarking on a fool’s errand but she started to look at the listings, and reached for her phone to begin the tedious task of trying to track down a Joshua Goldberg. There was no Josh, J, or Joshua Goldberg listed so she had to start making calls.

The number on the police report was also the same number as where they had found Robbie and despite several calls there, no one answered but if Josh was the same age as Robbie, he might have gone to be with his parents, instead of staying in that apartment. At least she would, but then did the parents know about his relationship? That was the other downside of being gay, where did you go when trouble struck? Most kids would have some family to go and find comfort with; many gays didn’t have that refuge, because it was family that caused them to leave in the first place. Damn this world, a kid was a kid and so what if he had some particular distinction, he still deserved a parent’s love and support.

As she began to dial the first phone number, she felt that burning beginning again in the pit of her stomach, knowing just how many times she had to talk to parents of kids who were gay. It was amazing, how many parents would stand by their child who may have committed some unspeakable crime, and yet mention that the child was gay, had homosexual tendencies and the door was shut in your face. Father’s who would agonize over a son’s drinking or drug abuse and would plead even for help for the boy would just refuse to talk to you if the boy were gay.

Mother’s weren’t all that better, they would blame it on having to be both mother and father because the husband was busy or had taken off, what were they supposed to do? Like it was almost as if they felt they were the victim and not their child. There were rare cases where the family supported the child, but it was rare. They didn’t seem to understand that being gay was not a choice, it wasn’t that one day the boy or girl woke up and said, “Hey, I think I’d rather be queer than straight”. It just didn’t happen that way and yet there were way too many who thought that was exactly what happened. Hell, even doctors seemed to feel that way, and for the most part so did religion, so it was no wonder that gay teens had a high rate of suicide, alcoholism, and drug addiction.

How many cases had she dealt with even in such a small city as Victoria where the child had been thrown out of the house because they were gay, and yet teenagers who were picked up for drunk, or drug related crimes, didn’t have the family home shut off from them? Until she came to this job she didn’t even know what ‘gay’ was but she had a crash course ever since. A crackly voice on the end of the phone interrupted her thoughts and for a second she was lost but regained her composer fast.

Debbie “Hello, Is there a Josh, Joshua Goldberg there?”

Voice “Who? Josh? No, no you have the wrong number, no Josh here.”

Debbie “Oh, I am sorry to have troubled you, uh, you wouldn’t by chance know him do you? It is important that I get a hold of him.”

Voice “Who is it you want? Josh Goldberg, is that it?”

Debbie “Yes, Joshua Goldberg, do you know him?”

Voice “No, the only Joshua Goldberg I know is the Rabbi’s oldest boy, maybe you should call the Rabbi, he might be able to help you.”

Debbie “The Rabbi? Uh, yes, I will, uh, sorry to bother you, you wouldn’t have his phone number would you?”

Voice “Well, let me see, I’ll have to look, hang on a second while I get the directory… ah, here it is, you want his home number or the Schul’s2?

Debbie “Both please, I really appreciate your help, thank you.”

2 Slang for Temple, Synagogue, Jewish Church

Debbie hung up the phone and sat there, her hands resting under her chin as she stared at the two phone numbers in front of her. The case had just gotten even more difficult with the involvement of a religious leader. Now what should she do? It was bad enough if the parents were ordinary folk, now if one was also a religious man, a man of the cloth so to speak, it raised the stakes considerably. Did Joshua tell his parents of his homosexuality? If not, and he was there, how would she explain this call or worse, how would he explain it? Would it open a whole can of worms that would do more harm than help?

She didn’t know too many in the Jewish community, it was almost as secretive as the Chinese community was. Both groups were closed and the few instances where she had been involved it was like they closed around themselves to ward her off. Both cultures had a deep-rooted family value system and when one got into trouble, it was almost as if the whole community was suddenly involved. In some respects it was nice, but in another sense it wasn’t, because in some instances, it denied the help the kid would need. However, she did have to admit that in the very few instances where kids from those backgrounds came to her in the system, the fix was always easier than from those in the general population.

This wasn’t getting her anywhere and she stared at the two numbers, trying to decide which one to call first. If she called the synagogue first, she’d most likely get the Rabbi and not necessarily any answers that way. If she called the home, she might actually get Josh, but she could cause a whole set of other problems. It was a dilemma but she opted for the latter, figuring she could make some excuse and so she dialled the number, waiting for it to be answered. A young male voice picked up the phone and her heart pounded a little, hoping that maybe she had struck pay dirt.

Debbie “Is that Josh, Joshua Goldberg?”

Joel “No, its Joel, he’s sleeping.”

Debbie “Oh? He is there then, uh, do you think you could get him for me?”

Joel “No, I told you he’s sleeping, who’s calling?”

Debbie “Uh, it is important that I talk to him, my name is Debbie Winston. He won’t know me, but it is important.”

Joel “Yeah? Well, if you want to leave your number, I’ll see he gets it, but he is sleeping and he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Christ who was this pushy broad? He was sure not going to let her get Josh all upset, besides, he needed to sleep and no way was he going to wake him up for some stranger. Wish mom would be home, man I am glad I came home early.

Debbie “Are you a friend or family member?”

His voice has an edge to it, almost like he is a watch dog or something, and I don’t think I am going to talk to Mr. Joshua Goldberg at this time.

Joel “You sure ask a lot of questions, I am his brother, and you are who?”

Debbie “Debbie Winston, I am with Social Services, look, Joel is it? I really do need to talk to your brother, it is rather important.”

Joel “Social Services? Uh, you a social worker or something?”

Fuck, that was all Josh needed now, some damn government pencil pusher. No wonder she’s so pushy. Christ, what am I going to do?

Debbie “Yes I am, now could you get your brother?”

Joel “No, I don’t think so, I think maybe you should talk to my parents, uh, if it is important as you say. He needs his sleep, and uh, I think maybe you should call back later.”

This has to be about Josh’s friend, man what kind of shit is Josh in? I better call dad, he’ll know what to do, no way can I let her talk to Josh, not now, he’s too, shit, I am sounding like Mom, damn it.

Debbie “Well, I really do need to talk to him Joel, is your mother there, Or your father? Please, it really is important.”

Joel “No, my dad is at work, and my Mom is out shopping. Look, if you leave your number I can call dad at work and he can call you back, or when my mom gets home, but that’s the best I can do ma’am, I won’t wake Josh up.”

Debbie “I see, you two are close huh? How old are you Joel?”

Do you know about your big brother Joel? Are you protecting him simply because he is your big brother, or did big brother and you share more than a room or family? Damn, I am getting too suspicious, but why are you so protective? Is it that you know and no one else does? Or do you not know but have guessed? What is going on in that young mind of yours that is making you so cautious? What are you hiding my little friend?

Joel “16, and I really don’t think I want to answer anymore questions, so, if you want to leave your number, I’ll call dad and he can phone back, or mom can later, so?”

Debbie “Okay Joel, I am going to be out this afternoon, what time does your father get home?”

Joel “Five usually, but Mom will be here then.”

Debbie “Okay, well I’ll call back then, thank you Joel.”

She hung up the phone with her frown a little less noticeable. It didn’t sound like Joshua Goldberg was one of those statistics, one of those abandoned by family but maybe she was reading too much into a conversation with a 16 year old brother. The thing was, he sounded, well it didn’t really make sense, but it was almost as if he knew what she was calling about, and he was protecting his brother. She could be all wrong too, they may know nothing about the actual relationship between Joshua and the Fisher boy, they may simply think he had a rough go with a roommate.

Glancing at her watch she pushed away from the desk, closing the file and stuffing it into her oversized bag that served as her briefcase. Normal briefcases or even the legal brief types just weren’t large enough for her files, or any social workers. She hurriedly left the office and headed to her car and for her first meeting with her client, one Robbie Fisher.