Page 22 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“I’m talking about Golda, Ma. She’s not getting any younger. Sten has a job, and he’s a patient young man.”

Too late! I wasn’t fast enough.

Okay, time for damage control.

Diversion. Something that can’t lead back to me.

“How do you like living at Aunt Freida’s, Bubbe?”

“Your Aunt Freida is a lazy schmegegge. My Jacob’s too good for her.”

Bingo.

“Freida’s a good wife and mother, Ma. And she waits on you hand and foot. She simply has no taste in clothes and can’t cook to save a starving man’s life.”

Sten places the last dishes on the table and takes the seat next to me.

I lean in and whisper, “When my sister had the baby four months ago, Bubbe left to live with my uncle’s family. Rachel and her husband Eli were living here at the time. Two months ago, they moved to his parents’ place. They have the top floor at his parents’ house. Nice and private. When they lived here, they were on the same floor as my parents.”

“Will I meet your sister?”

“They’ll come by in a few days. Rachel won’t want to be away from Sadie too long.”

“What about you, Sten? Are you married?” Mom asks.

“Mom!”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s just a question.”

“I have not found my sholani yet, Mrs. Birnbaum.”

“Sholani sounds like a Hebrew name. Like Shoshana. Is she lost?”

“Sholani means heartmate. The one destined for me.”

I’m afraid to look at Sten, of what I might see in his face. This attraction I have toward him is probably one-sided.

A crisp wind chills the dining room as my dad stomps through the front door. He shakes the snow from his hat, looks at the four of us already sitting at the table, and shuts the door as if everything is normal. Part of me wonders if he avoided coming home on time so he wouldn’t have to deal with Bubbe’s reaction to Sten.

Extending his hand to Sten, my Dad says, “You must be Warrior Zelin. I’m David Birnbaum.”

Instead of taking my father’s hand, Sten nods. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Birnbaum. My commander said I would find it beneficial.”

“Call him Sten or Stenikov, David. And you’re late.”

Dad lowers his hand and returns Sten’s nod, accepting the alternate greeting. “The bus got in late from Philly. But the presentation went well. I think they’re going to green-light the project.”

Mom takes his coat from him, shaking the big wet flakes off before hanging it in the foyer closet. “Where did you find Stenikov, David?”

Her tone sends the hairs on the back of my neck straight up. Sten’s been here since yesterday, but that doesn’t mean Dad’s off the hook. Mom doesn’t like surprises or unilateral decisions.

“I’m paying back a favor. Charles said he needed to find a place for Stenikov to go during the holidays and he thought we’d be perfect.”

“Why did he think that?”

“I owed him a favor. Gertie, why are you making this so complicated?” Dad takes his place at the head of the dining room table.

“Because you’re a schmendrik,” Bubbe inserts herself into the quickly devolving conversation. My family’s loud, fights over the stupidest things, and I’m used to it, but I’m worried about Sten. He came to observe us. Tolearnfrom us.

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