“I hate both of you, I hate these stupid eye patches, I hate that I ever met you!”

“I met someone special today.”

There was a chuckle in his voice; Sylvia could hear it. She felt her tension melt, glad that Sol was home, in a good mood — not a small thing. She hoped that meant his excursion alone had gone well.

“Is that so?” She listened as Sol closed the door, shuffled over to the table where she was cutting vegetables for dinner. One hand gripped the cylinder of the cool carrot, the other held the squat peeler. With her thumb, she determined which portions were unpeeled, which still needed work.

Sol stood to her right, so she turned her body toward him so he could see her face.

“She’s a redhead.”

“Hmm...” Sylvia knew in theory what that color was, but could not imagine the potential allure. She stayed silent, listening to his monologue, even though every fiber was shouting to cut in, to confirm if he had been safe.

“She’s six years old, and a real handful, so full of life. She reminds me of you, actually.”

At this, Sylvia had to laugh. Sweet.

“So who’s this girl?”

“She’s actually my cousin Dave’s granddaughter. So that makes her — what, my first cousin twice removed? Yaffa’s daughter, you know, the one from the city. They’re here for the summer, I guess to get away a bit.”

“Nice for them.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how nice it is for Tammi — that’s the kid. Honestly, she seems pretty bored with both her parents working from home. Only child…”

Sylvia clucked her tongue in empathy; loneliness was an all-too familiar visitor. “Hasn’t made friends here just yet?”

“Doesn’t seem so. That’s actually how we met, through a shadchan you might say... or a team of them. The usual crew was picking on her today — you know how it goes — then stopped to shift gears as soon as they saw me approach.”

“Oh, Sol.” At this, she turned her head back down, shifting her full attention to the remaining carrots. She knew, she knew, it hadn’t been a good idea to let Sol go out alone. This was exactly the problem; she knew all too well which group he was referring to. It was the same one that always teased Sol mercilessly for his hunchback.

At least it wasn’t the rock-throwing of months past; the school had been wise enough to put an immediate stop to that.

But the taunts... Sylvia often knew when Sol would be entering the front door based on the names and cat-calls she heard from outside. Those continued mercilessly.

“Nu, nu.” Again, his characteristic chuckle. “Don’t go busting my fun, Sylvia. I don’t need a chaperone.”

Sol is joking, but he’s also not.

Sylvia knows she should let it go, but she also can’t.

They’ve had this conversation so many times before, Sylvia can hear the lines as if they're reading from a script.

Sylvia just sighs, picks up another carrot.

“So tell me more about Tammi.”