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horrified, put her arms around her and patted her back. “Can’t you tell me what’s the matter? Maybe I could help you?”
    At this, Delilah sobbed even louder.
    Rivkie hugged her. “You don’t have to tell me. But you should tell God. Talk to Him. Explain it to Him. Ask Him to help you.”
    Delilah looked up with surprise. Taking the tissue from Rivkie’s hand, she considered it. Yes! Yes! This was the answer. Who was compassionate and kind and forgiving? Who, after all, caused new life to be created in the first place?
    Most of all, who could perform miracles?
    Yes, yes, yes!
    She put her arms around Rivkie’s slim shoulders, noting through her misty eyes that she was wearing a new blouse, one that had yet to be hung up in the closet, and that it was a very nice material. Silk? And that color, sort of a summer green. She wiped her eyes carefully, not wanting to get water spots on it that might ruin it, because she had a skirt that was the perfect match… . “Thank you, Rivkie. You’ve saved me. That’s what I’lldo. I’ll pray.” She saw her roommate’s eyes shine through undropped heartfelt tears.
    For a moment, Delilah felt her heart pierced by the knowledge that such innocence and sincerity existed in the world. She didn’t doubt for a minute that if she poured her heart out and told Rivkie everything—which, of course, she had absolutely no intention of doing; she wasn’t a complete idiot—the girl would not sit in judgment.
    She suddenly remembered what her teachers had once told them about Judaism being a system in which human beings attempt to imitate God. Until this moment, she had never understood what such a thing could mean. Rivkie, like God Himself, would without question react with sympathy and compassion.
    Delilah was suddenly flooded by an aching desire to be a person like that, someone who went through life cleanly, openly, helping others, at one with God and other human beings. Perhaps it was not too late? Jews believed in repentance and clean slates and having your sins wiped away.
    She would pray to God. She would ask His forgiveness, ask Him to solve this problem to which she could find no solution that would not lead to even worse problems. She would hand the whole sordid mess over to Him. And if He answered her, she would finally and absolutely know there was a God, and He wasn’t just a mythical being, like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus, a concept created by the popular imagination because human beings have to have explanations, and because they want to believe that their lives have some purpose, some meaning. She would bury all her skepticism, her doubts, and be reborn.
    She got up.
    “Do you want me to go with you?” Rivkie asked.
    She shook her head. “No. I need to do this alone.”
    She took her purse and put on a pair of sunglasses to hide her eyes, since it didn’t seem appropriate to begin repairing her makeup. Then she walked slowly around the corner to the synagogue.
    Of course, it was locked. For a moment, all her good feelings evaporated. Why was it, she fumed, that churches were always open, always filled with quiet darkness, candles, etc. etc., and synagogues never were? And even if she waited around in the faint hope that some beadle might come by and unlock it for men wanting to say their afternoon prayers, still, she’d be the only woman there, and all of them would stare at her.
    So where now? Where could she go that was dark and secret and spiritual?Where she would feel free to express her deepest soul and ponder the mysteries of the universe, God, and faith? She looked up and saw the movie house. They were playing Star Wars, which she had been planning on seeing again anyway.
    The movie was just starting, but the theater was practically empty. She took a seat in an empty row at the far end of the aisle near the front, where anything she said aloud would be swallowed by the Dolby sound blasters. There was some kind of loud galactic fight going