Much as she’d want to insinuate herself into this life, it wasn’t hers to have. She calls a different woman “Mom”
“Don’t wanna eat my cholent.” Moishy pushes his plate away.
Aviva sits near him at the Shabbos table, in her familiar place, the same every time she comes. She knows this dining room in her dreams. But for all the years and all the times, she still sometimes feels like a guest when she’s here.
“Moishy, you need to eat something normal,” Kayla says.
The five-year-old pouts.
Kayla looks toward the head of the table for reinforcement.
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