Chapter Twenty-Nine
Panic lodges in my throat, tight, nauseating. My hand flies out before I can stop it. The sting vibrates up my arm, and my head clears a little. I don’t smack the door again.
I take a breath, focusing on the air filling my chest.
Look around. The street is quiet. All of my overwhelm is internal.
Dr. Talia’s list is about the things I can control. It can help calm me down but won’t get me back into the hotel.
I pace in front of the door. There’s a small button on one side of it, which could be a doorbell. I reach out to push it, then stop.
What if it’s loud? It could wake up the whole hotel. Then I’d really be in trouble.
My hand drops to my side. Maybe I need to think less like Dr. Talia and more like someone else. What would Laurel do?
All I know is Laurel wouldn’t be stuck outside because she’d have the key with her. I come up empty with Andy and Gibs, too.
But Isa? They’d break this down. Take it apart and see what it’s made of:
What’s wrong: No key. Locked out.
How to solve: I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know.
This never would’ve happened if I’d stayed in the—
Garden.
I stop pacing. Maybe there’s a way to get inside from the back of the building.
Another breath. I walk the length of the hotel, from one end to the other. But if there’s a garden entrance, I don’t see it. Each building on this block connects to the next one.
I thrum on my leg, trying to think. Pull out my phone, check for notifications. I’m close enough to the hotel that I still have Wi-Fi, but our group chat has been silent since yesterday.
I exhale. Look up. This close to the hotel, my owl isn’t visible, but light glows through the curtains on a pair of windows.
An idea starts to form. My hotel room faces the garden, but Isa’s doesn’t.
I click on the chat app, pulling up my direct texts with Isa. For a moment, I stare at the puns they sent me. My chest squeezes, knowing I might’ve ruined everything.
But I have to try. I don’t want to be stuck out here all night.
Ellen (she/her + they/them)
Are you awake?
I count silently to myself, from uno to sesenta.
There’s no response when I look back at my phone.
Ellen (she/her + they/them)
I’m locked outside.
There’s so much more I want to say but the words are all tangled up.
My phone vibrates.
Isa (they/them)
You locked yourself in the garden?
Ellen (she/her + they/them)
No. Out front.
I wait for another message, but it doesn’t come. A click, followed by the scrape of a window against its sill. Isa pokes their head out. We look at each other for a few seconds, neither speaking.
I type out another message.
Ellen (she/her + they/them)
Hi.
Isa (they/them)
Hi
Ellen (she/her + they/them)
We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I just need the front door unlocked.
Isa (they/them)
K, give me a few
They disappear.
I head back to the front of the hotel, wondering what Isa needs a few of. Seconds? Minutes? Hopefully not more. Whatever they need, I’m going to have to accept it. This isn’t something I can control.
The door clicks open. I slip back inside, then turn, expecting Isa to be gone.
They stand off to one side, near the stairs.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
We both sound so polite, like we’re meeting for the first time.
“I know I said I needed space, but I also know that if you don’t tell me how you got stuck outside, I’ll die of curiosity.”
“That’s not possible,” I say automatically, then catch myself. “I’m sorry. You knew that.”
“So… are you going to tell me?”
“Oh.” I rock on my heels. “I wanted to see my—the owl.”
“And you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“It was a dumb idea.” I look down. “But I couldn’t sleep. I understand why Andy’s mad at me, and why you are, too. I needed something familiar.”
Isa sighs. “I’m not mad. I just—actually, let’s go back up.” Isa gestures toward the stairs, and I take a few steps toward them.
“Did it help?” Isa glances at me as we walk. “Seeing your owl?”
“Maybe a little.” I shrug. “But I wasn’t thinking. Thank you again for saving me.”
“Might as well make myself useful when I’m up this early.” Isa’s voice echoes, along with our footsteps. “But maybe next time—”
They freeze on the first-floor landing. It takes me a step longer to stop.
“What are you two doing up at this hour?”
Down the hall, Abba stands with the community room door half-open, his iPad tucked under one arm. He heads toward us fast.
“More importantly, where were you coming from?”
“Nowhere, Mr. Katz,” Isa says.
“You know the rules about leaving the hotel without a chaperone.”
“It’s my fault, Abba.” I step forward. “I went outside and got locked out. Isa helped me get back in. They didn’t leave the hotel at all.”
“You left the hotel.…” Abba looks between us. “Isa, why don’t you head back to your room. I should probably talk to Ellen alone.”
Isa sprints up the last flight of stairs. A door clicks open. It closes. Then, silence.
I expect Abba to lead me upstairs to his room, but he turns and gestures for me to follow.
“Let’s take a walk.”
I let him guide me back down the way I just came.
Together, Abba and I walk down the pedestrian avenue toward the subway. At this hour, the sidewalk is almost empty. Businesses are shuttered. There’s no chirping or blurs of gray wings. Even the pigeons are still asleep.
“So.” Abba clears his throat. “How’d this happen, Elle-bell?”
“Yes, I get that,” Abba says. “What I’d like to know is why you left the hotel at all.”
“Um. I needed…” What? To see my owl? It sounds silly now. “… some air.”
“Okay. Then why not open your window?”
I swallow. That makes so much more sense than leaving the hotel.
When I don’t answer, Abba leads me toward a bench just outside a playground. We sit.
“Is it all right if I…” He lifts his arm, and I nod.
Abba slides his arm across my shoulder. “I can understand not wanting to wake Laurel—”
“It’s not that.” I shake my head. “Laurel isn’t even in our room.”
“Then where is she?” Abba’s voice rises. He looks around frantically, then back at me. “Did she leave the hotel, too?”
“No. She slept in Sophie-Anne and Madison’s room tonight.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Because I made a mistake. Actually, a lot of them.”
The words tumble out. “Laurel wanted me to ask you if I could switch to her team, but I liked the team I was on, so I didn’t and just let her believe you said no.”
“She—what?”
I rush on. “And then she asked me to help with the clues. Her whole team did, except for Cody. I didn’t share anything, but I told her a secret about Andy, because we always used to tell each other everything and she said she wouldn’t tell. But then Andy found out. Now he’s mad at me and I don’t know how to make things better with him, or Laurel, or anyone.”
Abba rubs soothing circles on my shoulder with his thumb. “That sounds complicated, metukah.”
“Very complicated.” My gaze drifts across the street, to the café where Isa and I got donuts just a few days ago. But today, I don’t think of custard filling or even natillas. All I can see is sandwiches behind the display counter. Jamón serrano. How hard it is to keep kosher here.
“Did you have shrimp at the group dinner? Or prawns?”
Abba’s thumb goes still. “Pardon?”
“Madison said you did. She said she saw you, but I told her she was wrong.”
“Honestly?” Abba sighs. “I haven’t been worrying about kashrut too much on this trip. But let’s keep the focus on your—”
“Why not?” Suddenly, this seems important.
“I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, metukah. Really, I do.” The stubble on Abba’s cheeks lifts as he gives me a small smile. “But your ima is the more observant one.”
“What are you talking about? You, and me, and Mom, we’re all the same.”
“We’re a family, Ellen, but we’re not all the same. And that’s a good thing. I spent a lot of my life following the rules within a Haredi community in Jerusalem. What I wore, who I could speak to, the gender of the person I was allowed to like romantically. And yes, even the types of food I could eat.”
I knew that Abba grew up in a religious community and that he met Mom when she was studying in Israel. I never thought about what took place in between.
Then I process the rest of what he said. I remember how Andy’s eyes lit up when he saw the rainbow stickers on Abba’s iPad.
“What do you mean about the gender of people you liked? You love Mom, don’t you?”
“Yes of course. Very much,” Abba says. “Sometimes identity isn’t straightforward. I could have married a woman within my community, perhaps even been happy. Or maybe I could’ve left my community and married a man and been happy. But it was your ima I fell in love with. She knows who I am and supports me. That’s what makes me happiest.”
I’m not sure what to say, but Abba isn’t finished.
“You practice your Judaism by following kashrut and so does your ima. Back in Georgia, I mostly do, too. But keep in mind that no one follows the rules all the time. You eat food that isn’t certified kosher. You text Laurel on Shabbat. You also handled money to pay for your donut last weekend.”
This isn’t something I’d thought about. It’s the way things have always been for our family.
“These are choices we’ve made,” Abba continues, “ones we’ve decided are right for the three of us. I’m sorry I didn’t think to warn you that I wasn’t going to keep strictly kosher on this trip. But I can’t apologize for having a different relationship to Judaism than you or your mother do.”
Despite all this new information, I feel calm. Andy and Isa also have different ways of being who they are: Andy chose to come out to a small group of people; Isa lets everyone know who they are up front.
“Do you understand, metukah?” Abba’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“I think so.” I nod. “It’s why you tell your readers that any character can be shipped with anyone else in your novels: Each person’s interpretation of art is unique. And you’re saying that the same goes for what you believe?”
“Yes.” Abba pulls me into a hug, and I hug him back. “Faith is complicated. At least, that’s how I see it.”
I glance back toward the hotel when we separate. “So are friendships.”
My voice came out so quiet, at first I don’t think Abba heard me.
But then, he chuckles. “They are, indeed. That goes for all types of relationships. But it doesn’t mean they’re not worth fighting for.”
I agree. “I’m sorry I broke the rules.”
“It’s not the end of the world.” Abba rises, offering me a hand. “Everyone makes a mistake at some point in their life. Usually many.”
I let him help me up. My owl looks down on us as we walk back to the hotel.
“That said, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let your teacher know that you left the hotel on your own this morning. It wouldn’t be fair to let this slide, just because I’m your abba.”
My chest tightens a little. “I understand.”
It’s no fun getting in trouble, but at least I know what comes next. Abba will tell Señor L what I did, and Señor L will decide my punishment.
But facing my friends after? I can’t even begin to guess the result of that one.