Page 68 of The Dreidl Disaster

But it wasn’t a big deal.

Not at all.

“Oh really,” Liv said, desperately trying to keep the tone casual. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. Worried because there’s been a lot of conversation in town about you being with someone.”

“In town?” she asked, for clarification purposes. Because it could be her cousins or some random sisterhood informant.

“A little bit here and there,” her mother replied. “Enough where it’s cause for concern…in that she’s worried about you.”

“Okay,” she said, having organized her mental ducks in the rows they required. “She’s worried about what? My reputation? My life? My…”

“I don’t quite care what she’s worried about,” her mother said. “Debbie has her own reasons, but you’re my daughter. And I am worried about you.”

“I don’t understand,” she managed, desperately trying to follow the lines of the conversation as they shifted and moved away from her.

“You keep yourself locked away because you think you need to meet some impossible standard of behavior since that awful McManus boy acted like a political campaign was the best place to air grudges he’d had since nursery school. Not to mention your father and I are aware of the double standard women face, as well as the influence of the patriarchy whether it’s on our own Jewish culture or on Western Christian civilization.”

And there her mother went, tying the conversation to her (and her father’s) field of Jewish cultural study. “Yes, Mom,” she said. “My life isn’t my own; I love what I’m doing, don’t get me wrong, but every single thing I do matters.”

“So as your mother,” her mother continued, “my concern was the toll all of these hoops were taking on you in ways that was unhealthy. It’s not right or…safe to have to do that to yourself, even though I do understand why.” Her mother smiled back. “But now, now there is someone who makes you want to take chances, to be visible.”

She nodded. That was true, no matter what angle it was coming from.

“Why is he different? Why are you willing to spend…quality time with him, and open your emotional boundaries? Why are you risking this?”

Why are you risking this, indeed?

Her mother’s question got to the heart of her thoughts. But there was one and only one answer she could give her mother. “He gets it. He gets me.”

There was a second as her mother nodded once again. “So when is he coming to Shabbas dinner?”

“I have to ask him,” she said. “I don’t know what his schedule is like…”

“If he gets you,” her mother said, “he’ll get that this is important to both you and your family.”

And when she ended the call, it was clear Liv had another call to make.

*

Artur was filledwith happiness; he’d practically bounced into Abe’s place on Tuesday night. Granted, Liv had been in the middle of her digitization project, so he hadn’t felt so bad about leaving her behind.

But at the same time, he knew his mood was too good to last; his haze of a bubble floated too close to the sun that night, and when he’d settled into his seat, having dropped off both the wine and the dessert, Abe turned toward him.

“Nu,” his best friend said. “What is this I’m hearing about you and Liv making an appearance at Jacob’s for that poker night meeting I couldn’t make? Especially considering I’ve heard neither hide nor hair of you except for breakfast and bedtime, and even that’s a rare specialty.”

Yep. The hazy bubble had broken, the air had been let out and it was now time to deal with the earthly consequences of his actions. He was well aware that he’d been living on gossip/inquiry-related borrowed time for weeks at this point, and he knew he was lucky. Yet at the same time, he was going to lose his mind.

Batya raised an eyebrow; she could thankfully be counted upon to defuse a situation if necessary. “It’s pretty obvious what’s happening, Abe,” she said. “Whatever you did or put in the brisket at the party did its job.”

Artur, for his part, tried not to spit out his very good, very well cooked, dinner. “Um,” he managed. “I…”

“Of course that’s what happened,” Leo said with a snicker. “Dude’s got it clear on his face.”

He blinked. He needed to get this train back on the tracks and not circling him with conversations he wasn’t in the mood to have or gossip that wasn’t in any way helpful.

“Can we not consider ways to talk that won’t besmirch…”

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