Dancing in the Rain

Jodie searches her daughter’s beautiful eyes. She gulps. “The shopping will get done. Now’s our chance to have a great vacation before you go gallivanting off to Eretz Yisrael with your new husband.” Her words leave a bitter streak on her tongue

G lasses tinkle noise swells the heat and crush of well-wishers pressing in on her like so many knives — cut thrust cut.

“Jodie!” Nechama Katz from next door barrels through the throng of women grasps Jodie in a rocking embrace. “Mazel tov! Where’s the beautiful kallah?”

“Thank you thank you!” Jodie cries hoping hysteria has not crept into her voice.

Nechama weaves her way toward Kayla. Jodie stares. Kayla looks so serene joyous thick copper hair falling in ringlets on her shoulders her smile a wondrous thing. Jodie swallows terrified. Her daughter her baby is a kallah.