FORTY-FIVE

THE MORNING OF MY BAT mitzvah, I wake up and it feels different than every other Saturday.

My alarm goes off at six, and my mom is already up. We rush around, eating breakfast (but I can’t eat) and getting ready. When we’re all in our temple clothes, we drive over there and attempt to do some family photos before the service starts.

Random cousins that I’ve only met once or twice come up to me saying things like “you’re so tall” and “the last time I saw you, you were missing your front teeth!” and “what a beautiful young lady you’ve become.”

I’m not going to lie—being called a young lady is just as creepy as being called a woman.

I still want to be a girl. I think that’s okay.

After a zillion photos taken by my uncle Scott, who is actually a professional photographer and offered to help out for the day, it’s time for everyone to take their seats in the sanctuary.

My parents, Gemma, and I stand by the door for a few minutes greeting more people, and the longer I stand there, the more my stomach rumbles. Time is moving in slow motion. I need this service to start already. I need to feel like I’ve done okay with all the prayers and the Torah portion and my speech and everything.

After most of the grown-ups have arrived, the kids finally start coming.

“You look so amazing,” Marie says, squeezing me into a tight hug. “Did you get your hair done?”

I shake my head. “My mom curled it with this new curling iron she found online.”

“It looks profesh,” M.W. adds. “Like, hard-core profesh.”

I laugh. “Thanks, guys.”

“Okay, we’re going to sit,” Cami says, and blows me a kiss. “You are very chill today, Ari. Like, you don’t look nervous at all.”

“Thanks, Cami.”

Kaylan comes in a second later with her mom and Ryan.

“OMG, I am so sorry we’re late, Ari,” she says, sort of out of breath. “You look like a model. A bat mitzvah girl model.”

“Thanks, Kay-Kay.” I reach over to hug her, my heart pounding.

This is really happening. Like now. Right now. I have to step outside myself for a minute to observe this scene as someone else. I want to be mindful of all that is taking place—breathe it in, pay attention, really notice everything.

My bat mitzvah. Today. Now. All of it.

Ryan head-nods in my direction, and Kaylan’s mom kisses me on the cheek and tells me I look beautiful and to break a leg.

Then the camp girls start coming in, and Alice sprints down the hallway and lifts me up and twirls me around. “Ari, my lovieeeee,” she squeals. “OMG, I missed you beyond!”

“AlKal, I missed youuuuu beyond,” I reply, as she puts me down.

Zoe and Hana walk in at the same time, and they pull Alice and me into a group hug, and we all start swaying together and squealing and then it feels like everyone in the sanctuary turns around to stare at us.

“Guys, okay. Stop.” I try to break free. “You’re crumpling my dress!”

They finally pull apart but squeal a few more times. It feels like the puzzle version of me is almost complete again.

“Is Golfy here?” Zoe mouths.

I shrug. “Haven’t seen him yet.”

My throat starts to get tight and scratchy, and I get a bubbly, fizzy feeling when I think about seeing Golfy. It’s kind of like the feeling right before you’re about to get a present you’re really hoping for, or the moment when the roller coaster you’re on is about to do the downhill part.

The best kind of nervous feeling.

This receiving line is kind of nice because my parents are so busy talking to people that come in that they can’t overhear my conversations with my friends.

As I’m walking with my parents up the aisle to go sit on the bimah, I feel someone tap me.

Golfy.

“So sorry we’re late,” he says. “Traffic. Duh. You look amazing. You’re going to crush this. You’re my new favorite person. Okay, go. Bye.”

I laugh behind my hands and smile my whole way up to the bimah.