The house is echoing and silent,
somehow dim and foreboding even though it’s the middle of the day, and my mother and sisters are here, too. Which makes the eerie, deafening silence so… loud.
I’m itching to get back into Abba’s study, to see for myself whether the men have been here. What they’ve done, taken. Was there even anything left to take?
But Ima’s here, and even as I wonder if I’d be able to get the keys and get into the study without her noticing, she turns to me with a small smile that seems painfully stretched over her face, and says, “Well, Yair, do you want to go to yeshivah?”
Go to yeshivah. Now?
“No,” I say, without thinking. Seriously? Abba dies, shivah’s over, and that’s it? Slide back into ballgames and yeshivah hock and guys going crazy over farhers and stuff like that?
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