“I’m telling you that I’m not — that nothing about me was real. That it was all a lie. And that’s… okay with you?”

“Look, Tatty, Mommy! Look! I’m flying!” Blimi has mastered the swing before Shira, who sulks as she watches her sister. Ezra pushes Shira back and forth while Blimi pumps her legs, gleeful and free, soaring over the playground.

Rivi steps back and lets Blimi go, then hesitates. Should she still be there, just in case Blimi falls? Had she done the same for Meir or Shimmy when they’d figured out how to swing?

This playground is neutral ground. It’s not the twins’ favored playground, across Lenape Falls, but it’s the one that’s closest to the house. Rivi has brought them here plenty of times on Shabbos afternoon, and her failures don’t loom quite as large here.

Two-and-a-half days ago, Gabe and Penina  nearly died. Despite Rivi’s promise to help, they’d all taken a break from Abba’s house since and have been careful about where they go and when. And Ezra has thawed, has been speaking to her as though their fight hadn’t happened, which was fine with Rivi right up until Ezra said last night, “Why don’t you work from home tomorrow and we’ll talk after yeshivah, before the boys get home?”

There are a lot of things that Ezra can look past. Maybe he can even put aside their argument. But she’s been fooling herself if she really thought that he might overlook a shooting.

Blimi slows, losing momentum, and Rivi gives her another push. Ezra waits. “That person in the burial plot was Avigdor Cohen,” she admits. “My father… we didn’t know who he was.”

Her phone buzzes, and she tucks it away. Ezra exhales. “Your father isn’t Avigdor Cohen. Gabe isn’t a Kohein. That’s why the rav okayed him going out with Penina.” He nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Rivi stares at him. “I’m telling you that I’m not — that nothing about me was real. That it was all a lie. And that’s… it’s okay with you?”