Since when does your pain give you license to hurt someone else?
The phone call from Tamar came on Erev Yom Kippur.
It wasn’t a surprise. A part of me had been anticipating this call for months. Dreading it, really.
Tamar began with some light chitchat. “How are the kids? What are your Yom Tov plans?” After a minute or two of polite conversation, she concluded with the standard, “I wanted to wish you a gemar chasimah tovah, and I hope that you’re mochel me in case I did anything wrong to you.”
In case she did anything wrong to me?
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