The Storytellers: Part 2

Margalit swatted at the tear trickling down her face. Why did her great-great-grandmother have to die? No one had understood her like Abuelita. No one. She rose from the grass where she’d been lying and went back into the house, where everyone was gathered to discuss the arrangements for the levayah and the shivah.

She didn’t expect anyone to notice her. And they didn’t. But seeing all the faces — her grandparents and aunts and uncles, her much-older siblings, made Margalit feel pretty overwhelmed. Their family was legitimately huge — and not everyone had even arrived yet.

And also, she thought, feeling guilty for even thinking about this at such a time, for even feeling sorry for herself on this day of all days, so many of these family members had criticized her personality and interests at some point in the past, sharing their unwanted opinions: You know what you need? You need more friends. Be like a normal girl your age, not such a dreamer, always with your head in the clouds. Why can’t you be like your classmates? Why are you always thinking? Why can’t you just relax and be a regular teenager? Just go out with the girls and have a good time. Join a club. Take it from me….

The words floated through her mind, picking up dust like a funnel cloud. It was all well-meaning, of course. But it left her feeling flattened. Only Abuelita had understood her….