Expecting me to come cheer her on as she dances my solo… Well, that seems a bit above the human pay grade
I never did hear what happened in that kitchen between Ma, Daddy, Naftoli, and Baruch. But long after the shalach manos has been dismantled, and everyone is back in school, Naftoli is still home. Still, there’s something happier about him, something calmer. And it’s nice to see.
I contemplate this as I slice carrots and cucumbers for a midnight snack. I don’t think I ever appreciated how hard it is to stick to a healthy diet. I’d listened as my classmates and family members moaned and groaned about calorie counting and skipping desserts and just shrugged as I smugly wolfed down seconds of everything. But now that I actually need to be careful if I want to stay healthy, I see that it’s not as easy as I’d thought. And besides, carrot sticks can in no way compete with Franczoz doughnuts. I’m sorry, they just can’t.
My phone buzzes. I give it a sideways glance as I spritz lemon juice over my plate. Atara. Hmmm, at this late hour? Balancing the plate and a glass of icy Diet Coke, I tuck the phone under my ear as I ascend the stairs to my room.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey.”
She sounds tired.
“You okay?”
“I guess.”
“Mhmmm…” I raise my eyebrows even though she can’t see me.
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