“There’s no problem, Dudi.” Gedalya claps him on the shoulder in the most brotherly way he can muster.
I was at the little shop that sells hosiery and accessories, waiting in line at the checkout counter with a basket full of tights and socks. Near the exit, two girls were arguing in loud whispers.
“We can’t. It’s so rude!”
“No, it’s not!”
I turned my head toward them and suddenly they were quiet, pretending to browse the headband rack.
My turn came. I paid. I could almost feel the burn as I handed over the cash. Tights are expensive, but we can’t go barefoot. I didn’t buy any extras. And how were Abba and Ima supposed to pay for my operation, if we could barely afford the everyday things?
“Would you like this all in one bag, or in two smaller bags?” the cashier asked me.
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