Shavuos in Thailand with Bubby— what was behind that?

“M

ainstreaming Yoni Portowitz,” Reena says, parking her shoes near the coffee table and stretching luxuriously on the couch, “is really, really not an option.”

On the other end of the line, Etty lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know that and I know that, Reens. But his mother is insisting that he’s up for it. It’s our fault — we made such a big deal over his progress this year, she thinks he’s on par with a regular kid his age.”

“It’s not our fault. We give positive feedback to every parent, and we’ve never had one respond by taking their child out the special ed system.”

“Mmph.” Etty sounds out of breath. She’s probably flitting around her postage stamp-sized kitchen, trying to juggle her baby while cooking supper. Officially, they’re co-teachers, but this thing with Yoni — or anything else that doesn’t fit into the hours when Etty’s baby is at the babysitter — is Reena’s to deal with.

It’s been a long time since she had to rush home to prepare supper. Although sometimes it feels like it’s been no time at all.

There’s a wail in the background.

“I’ll let you go,” Reena says swiftly, and hangs up before Etty has to do it to her. Again.

Ma is sorting the mail, reading glasses slipping down her nose. “Sounds like you had a busy day.”

“It’s always busy.”

Reena sticks a Caramel Latte K-cup in the Keurig. She’s the only one who uses it; Ma prefers the kettle and Ta won’t touch caffeine. It’s hers, anyway: a sleek rose-gold color that she chose specifically to match the kitchen of their small rental.

Ma’s kitchen is blue and white, splintering wooden cabinets, circa 1970s. Oh, well.

“They’re lucky to have you.” Ma gives her a small smile. She places something back inside its envelope, tucks the flap inside. “But if you could take a couple minutes from your busy schedule tonight…”

Reena sucks in a sigh. “Not the résumé again.”

Ma jumps on the word. She seems relieved not to have had to say it first. “Yes! Exactly. An updated résumé… just in case.”

“In case what?” The Keurig dispenses a stream of steaming liquid. Reena inhales. “Ma?”

“Nothing. Just hishtadlus. If something comes up…”