Possible Houseficlet Draft: Next Year in Jerusalem
Well, we'll see where this goes. The title is the traditional "last toast" made at Passover.
Next Year in Jerusalem
Why is this night different from all other nights?
Because House is alive, Wilson thinks blearily. A miracle in and of itself.
He's already tired, so tired, and the Seder has barely begun. Five-year-old Zach is asking the first question; his twin brother Henry wriggles impatiently beside him, eager for his turn. Their older sister Sophie is alternately amused and disgusted by her brothers and waits quietly to ask the third question.
Their father, Wilson's younger brother Jonathan, will ask the fourth.
Wilson remembers other Seders, other voices. His older brother David had always had the best voice -- a beautiful tenor that made the ancient Hebrew words sing as he chanted them. Of course, that was before everything happened and it all went wrong, before irresistable forces met immovable objects.
Before a bottle of Maker's Mark met an empty bottle of oxycodone.
Wilson scrubs a hand over his face; he'd been at the hospital fourteen hours straight before coming here, to his brother's perfect house in the suburbs of Piscataway. It had taken a long time just to get out of Princeton; he'd missed the hunt for the afikomen. He tells himself it doesn't matter -- at least one of the kids found it this year. Last year Badge, Jon's big black Lab, had found it first.
Last year House had come with him.
He doesn't know where House is right now; he'd left the hospital before Wilson. He's probably in his apartment, eating pizza with all the toppings he teases Wilson about. Sausage, Canadian bacon. Ham. Or maybe he's out with his fellows -- he's been doing that more often.
*** working ***
Notes:
Why do we recline on this night, instead of sitting upright?
I am grateful that House is alive.
Why do we eat unleavened bread this night?
Because I was in such a fucking hurry to get medical help to House on Christmas Eve, which is a real interfaith miracle.
Why on this night do we eat bitter herbs?
Because House might try it again, the bastard. And I don't know what I'll do if he does.
Seder:
Shank bone -- usually lamb.
Hard-boiled egg.
Maror -- bitter herbs (usually a dab of horseradish). Bitterness of slavery.
Haroses -- delicious; chopped apple, pear, peach, whatever, mixed with chopped nuts (we use pecans, mixed with a little honey and red wine.)
Parsley -- to be dipped in salt water. Tears.
Lots of wine.
Next year in Jerusalem.
Next Year in Jerusalem
Why is this night different from all other nights?
Because House is alive, Wilson thinks blearily. A miracle in and of itself.
He's already tired, so tired, and the Seder has barely begun. Five-year-old Zach is asking the first question; his twin brother Henry wriggles impatiently beside him, eager for his turn. Their older sister Sophie is alternately amused and disgusted by her brothers and waits quietly to ask the third question.
Their father, Wilson's younger brother Jonathan, will ask the fourth.
Wilson remembers other Seders, other voices. His older brother David had always had the best voice -- a beautiful tenor that made the ancient Hebrew words sing as he chanted them. Of course, that was before everything happened and it all went wrong, before irresistable forces met immovable objects.
Before a bottle of Maker's Mark met an empty bottle of oxycodone.
Wilson scrubs a hand over his face; he'd been at the hospital fourteen hours straight before coming here, to his brother's perfect house in the suburbs of Piscataway. It had taken a long time just to get out of Princeton; he'd missed the hunt for the afikomen. He tells himself it doesn't matter -- at least one of the kids found it this year. Last year Badge, Jon's big black Lab, had found it first.
Last year House had come with him.
He doesn't know where House is right now; he'd left the hospital before Wilson. He's probably in his apartment, eating pizza with all the toppings he teases Wilson about. Sausage, Canadian bacon. Ham. Or maybe he's out with his fellows -- he's been doing that more often.
*** working ***
Notes:
Why do we recline on this night, instead of sitting upright?
I am grateful that House is alive.
Why do we eat unleavened bread this night?
Because I was in such a fucking hurry to get medical help to House on Christmas Eve, which is a real interfaith miracle.
Why on this night do we eat bitter herbs?
Because House might try it again, the bastard. And I don't know what I'll do if he does.
Seder:
Shank bone -- usually lamb.
Hard-boiled egg.
Maror -- bitter herbs (usually a dab of horseradish). Bitterness of slavery.
Haroses -- delicious; chopped apple, pear, peach, whatever, mixed with chopped nuts (we use pecans, mixed with a little honey and red wine.)
Parsley -- to be dipped in salt water. Tears.
Lots of wine.
Next year in Jerusalem.