The Golem and the Djinni

by Helene Wecker

“Then—you won’t destroy me?” He shook his head. “A man might desire something for a moment, while a larger part of him rejects it. You’ll need to learn to judge people by their actions, not their thoughts.”

In recent years, solitude had become his one indulgence. As he’d predicted, the Golem quickly sensed his discomfort. Soon she developed the habit of positioning herself as far from him as possible, as though trying to leave without leaving. Finally he sat her down and explained that she shouldn’t go elsewhere simply because he was in the room. “But you want me to,” she said. “Yes, but against my own will. My better self knows that you may sit or stand wherever you wish. You must learn how to act according to what people say and do, not what they wish or fear.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to lie to your nephew. Not for my sake.” The Rabbi was silent for a moment. Then he said, “My dear, I am beginning to realize that there are many things that I will need to do—that I must do, for your sake. But they are my decisions. You must allow me to regret a small lie made in the service of a larger good.

A hand lashed out and caught ibn Malik around the throat. You cost me any chance at happiness, Schaalman said. Ibn Malik writhed around his fist. I gave you boundless knowledge instead. A poor second, said Yehudah Schaalman, and squeezed.