Jennifer Natalya Fink

Jennifer Natalya Fink

September 13, 2011

Seminar 5:30 PM | Lannan Center (New North 408)
Reading 8:00 PM | Copley Formal Lounge

 

 


from The Mikvah Queen

— Jennifer Natalya Fink

Her sneakers drop on the gold rug, leaving piss-dark patches. In my bare feet, I carefully wind my way around the dark yellow spots. “Why don’t you get yourself a glass of milk and watch some T.V. while I shower?” I suggest. Again the violent nod. I leave her in the kitchen, nose poking into the refrigerator, and head for the bathroom.

The more addicted I become to baths, the less cleansed I feel each morning from my shower. It is the little window of time after the shower that I relish, when the mirrors are steamy, my porthole fogged over so the black tree trunks outside look like the broken brush strokes of an Impressionist painting. There I stand in my blue silk kimono, bald as a Buddha. I wipe off the steam from the vanity, and using a little mirror from my blush compact I shave my head.

I start with the back, sudsing up with soap, the white bar foaming onto my white scalp. An old razor of Bill’s, long discarded for some fancy electric model, does the job. The trick is to shave in the direction the hair grows. Like refinishing an old table: rub with the grain.


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