Chapter 24

The next day, escaping the gloom of our apartment, I basked like a cat in the sun that streamed through Leah’s front window. She sometimes stayed home on Saturday mornings to take care of her bubbe, who had trouble walking, while her parents went to shul. While her grandmother slept in the back room, I poured out my heart. Well, not all of it. I couldn’t tell her about Papa scraping the food out of my mouth. A few things are too embarrassing to reveal, even to your best friend.

“It’s driving me bonkers to see my father sitting shiva. Like Shmuel was only alive as long as he was obeying Papa, but now that he wants to fight instead of study, he’s dead.”

“Nothing mattered more to your father than Shmuel’s ordination,” Leah said. “Admit it,” she nudged my shoulder and smiled, “You were jealous.”

“I confess.” I held up my hands. If anyone other than Leah had stated such a bald truth about me, I would have been mortified. “But I’d become a nun if it would bring Shmuel home.”

“God forbid.” Leah lowered my hands. “You don’t have to go to that extreme.”

“My father is going to ridiculous extremes. He’s snapped a cap, lost his lid.”

My friend didn’t smile at the vivid expressions. “It’s not as strange as you make it sound. Think how many parents sit shiva when their child marries a gentile. If a son or daughter leaves the faith, they might as well be dead.” Leah tilted her head in that way she has when she sure she’s right. It makes me want to disagree with her, even when I don’t, but I wish I could be as certain about my beliefs as she is.

I defended myself by challenging her. “Think how many parents relent when the first grandchild is born.”

Leah’s mouth twitched but she wouldn’t back down. “Torah places great value on honouring one’s parents. It’s the fifth commandment, even before not committing murder.”

“Or adultery,” I added, just to see her blush, and maybe to forget my fight with Papa.

“In fact,” Leah continued, ignoring my teasing, “Deuteronomy says that parents can have a disobedient child stoned to death. Shmuel spurning your father’s wish might seem to him like the ultimate disobedience.”

“I can think of worse.” I wiggled my eyebrows and smirked until I made Leah laugh. The bright sound almost blotted out the dark memory of my father’s hand in my mouth.

“I know you can.” She wagged her finger. “Seriously, Dev. Be patient. Your father’s heart is broken. When your uncle gets news of your brother, he’ll soften.”

“Hah! He’ll harden.”

Leah twirled the ends of my braids and stroked my cheeks with them. “Shiva is a week, just two more days to go. Your father will be back at work on Monday. Life will resume.”

“Shiva ends, but the period of mourning is a full year. I’ll be ready for the loony bin by then. Worse, I don’t know how my mother will keep from going meshugga.”

“She’s stronger than you give her credit for, Dev. Her faith will sustain her.” Now Leah tugged gently on my braids. “Meanwhile, until your brother comes home, she’ll have more time to watch over you and keep you out of trouble.”

I groaned. I hadn’t thought of that. Mama was pretty lenient with me, but with Shmuel gone, she’d be worried about losing me too. “My mother is strong,” I admitted, “but I don’t think she’s as solid in her faith as you. She questions things, like women not having the right to vote.”

Leah frowned. “It’s not the same. You can change laws in a democracy. They’re made by men. You can’t change the laws given to us by God. They’re carved in stone.”

“But even those laws are interpreted by rabbis.”

“With divine inspiration,” Leah insisted. “We trust them to tell us what to do.”

“Judaism is all about what we can’t do,” I complained. “Torah has a hundred and ninety-four mitzvot that begin, ‘Thou shalt not,’ and only seventy-seven that say, ‘Thou shalt.’ Besides, most laws are written with men in mind. Women might as well be dead, the same as Shmuel is to Papa. What’s the point?”

Leah opened her mouth, then closed it, on the verge of tears. She had no answer.

“The point of life for women is to have children and raise them to carry on our tradition.” Leah’s bubbe, whose voice was often tremulous, spoke with confidence from the back room.

Leah’s body relaxed. She gave me that triumphant tilt of her head, as if to say, “See?”

I shook mine in response. If that was true, did it mean half of Mama’s life would be wasted if Shmuel didn’t return? Leah read my mind. After all, we’d been best friends our whole lives. “Shmuel will come home,” she murmured, echoing what Mama and I had insisted all week. A cloud blocked the sunlight from coming in the window. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll have children and so will you,” Leah said firmly. “We’ll bring them up like brothers and sisters and become fat old bubbes together.” She jiggled her cheeks, trying to cheer me up.

I knew that having children was what Leah wanted more than anything. It’s not as if I didn’t want them, but I wanted more. “You’ll make a wonderful mother and bubbe,” I said.

We hugged goodbye. I had to get a wiggle on if I wanted to get home before my parents. Halfway down the stairs, I realized that in all the tumult over Shmuel’s disappearance, I’d forgotten to tell Leah my other big news. Now my body was ready for me to become a mother.