Page 33 of Delayed Intention
“Did I say that?”
“Lily.”
“Does it matter now? After all this time?” I am rubbing my palms against the back pockets of my jeans furiously without relief from the itching.
Roselyn’s face tells me that we both know the answer to that question, but she is kind enough not to say anything. We start walking again, and I exhale when she stops short.
Roselyn narrows her eyes at me, with kindness, but shrewd enough for me to know the next word that will come out of her mouth.
“Mom.”
I looked down at my hands, red from the cold, and simply nodded once. I can feel her eyes on me.
“It’s times like this I wish I could hug you,” her voice choked out.
I raise my head and offer a poor excuse for a smile. “Thank you, but please don’t.”
With that, we walked on together and I told her what I could: what had happened and how our mother didn’t believe me and how I continued to work there.
“And when he died?”
“She said nothing,” a humorless laugh escapes my lips. “You’ve met her, right? She’s never wrong, so what could she say?”
My sister cannot contain herself anymore, and I can see what she needs. “Come on then. I can tolerate one more hug. Let’s get it over with.”
She rests her head on my shoulder without putting her arms around me, and it’s not terrible.
“I love you, Lily. Do you know that?”
“I do.” I cough. “Okay, that’s enough of that, let’s get back before we freeze to death out here.”
The snow has begun to fall in earnest, softly, erasing the trace of our footprints as we make our way back to our grandmother’s house. Almost like a fresh start, I think.
Hanukkah On Ice
Joshua, Lincoln, December 2024
The snow crunches under my tires as I pull over in front of the old ranch-style home. The sun is close to setting, hanging low and orange in the sky—I’m cutting it close to candle-lighting time. I stretch my back as best I can from behind the wheel, rolling my neck and shoulders, hoping to lose some of my tension. When it comes to driving long distances, I prefer my truck, as a rule, but once the snow starts, this old SUV is a safer bet. I left Ginger behind at the local kennel and, without her as a buffer, I suddenly felt exposed.
The last time I saw Lily, we’d left everything so open-ended. At the time, it felt right, like our friendship was rekindling. We’d shared so much about the past, and how we are now, that I acutely feel unsettled about what exactly is going on between us. I’m not sure how to act now that we’ll have our families to bear witness. Then the last letter I sent… I wanted to tell her I can’t date her without being presumptuous—and as soon as I sent it, I felt like shit. In the letter, I was talking around the subject rather than being direct, the way we had been in person. Now, here, everyone will see us together and know she and I are… What even are we?
I sit and contemplate the house that has been the Haddad home base for decades. It was built in the 1950s era rambler style on a corner lot with light tan brick, a burgundy trim, and actual aluminum awnings over the windows. It’s an odd layout with a front parlor-dining room and a long hallway past the kitchen with five bedrooms off to the left and a large living room to the right. It was built with a large family in mind rather than a pretense of anything fanciful. I have so many good memories here, thanks to Rose taking us in for all the holidays after my father left. I realize that I may have more memories here than Lily does since her branch of the family stopped coming here so long ago.
Deciding I can’t procrastinate my arrival any longer, I descend from my vehicle and make my way into the front door, kicking off my boots in the mudroom.
“Joshua, is that you?”
My mother appears with a woman who must be Roselyn by her side in the parlor with a younger version of Roselyn on the floor between them, sorting dreidels and gelt.
“Hi Mom,Hanukkah Sameach.” I bend down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy Hanukkah to you, Joshua.”
I turn to Roselyn, “It’s been a while. Hello Roselyn.” I don’t reach out my hand since I realize I don’t know how religiously observant she is. She’s in jeans, but with Sephardic families, observance is not always something they wear on the outside. To be safe, I just nod my head.
“Hello Josh, it’s great to see you.” She made no effort to shake hands and I’m relieved I’d made the right call.
“And you must be Emunah.” I look down and smile. She looks at her mother.
