| Double Dance |

Double Dance: Chapter 16

By Bracha Rosman | January 15, 2020

"Tell her no! Be natural like you would be before Chaya came home"

ikki unwrapped her sandwich. “It was like a scene from Helen Keller. What a mess Chaya made.”

Ruchie laughed. “Maybe you’d better hire Anne Sullivan to teach her.”

“Ruchie Friedman! This is serious.”

“I’m sorry.” Ruchie covered her smile with her hand. “That was so mean of me, but I’m picturing yogurt dripping from the ceiling, and your poor mother’s ruined sheitel.”

“I know, but my mother is amazing. I don’t know how she has such patience. I was ready to scream. I think I even did.”

“I guess your mother has patience because she’s the mother.”

“Probably.”

The girls nibbled at their lunches, and Rikki veered the conversation away from the morning’s mishap. “Aaanyways, Matti wants to come over tonight. That would be, like, a total disaster. What am I supposed to tell her?”

Ruchie looked pensive. “Um… let me think a sec.” She tapped her lips with the tip of her index finger. “I know! Tell her you’re coming to my house.”

Rikki broke out in a smile. “Perfect… oh,” her forehead creased, “I’m not sure if I can. My mother may need my help. Things are super crazy now.”

“Ugh, I just remembered that I have a haircut appointment right after school, anyway,” Ruchie said. “I have to rush out the second the bell rings.”

Rikki pulled her ponytail to the front of her shoulder. “I also need a haircut, but I doubt my mother will be able to come with me.” She fixed a sugary smile on her face. “Sooo, how do I get out of having Matti over?”

“Maybe she won’t see Chaya.”

Rikki shook her head. “That’s going to be impossible. The nurse is there, and Chaya isn’t in bed. She’s not sick like that. She’s in her wheelchair and wheels herself around the house.”

“Really? She’s able to do that?”

“She moves slowly, but she gets where she wants to go, eventually. I mean, it’s really only downstairs. We don’t bring the wheelchair upstairs. My father carries her down in the morning, and upstairs at night… until we have a special chair-lift thing installed.”

“Everything seems so complicated.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Maybe you should tell the girls about her, Rikki Dee. It’s going to be hard to keep her a secret much longer.”

“I can’t.”

“I mean, it’s up to you. I’m just saying…”

“Please tell me what to tell Matti. That’s my main concern right now.”

“I don’t know. Tell her no! Be natural like you would be before Chaya came home. If you weren’t able to have her over, you would have just told her so. Why should she suspect anything now?”

“Because you told me the girls were asking you what’s wrong with me.”

“That’s because you were acting weird.”

“How about now?”

“Better, but still not totally normal. But definitely not as weird as before.”

“Hey!” Rikki said. “I just thought of something. I can tell her we’re having work done on the house and my mother doesn’t want anyone in the way.”

“Okay, but is it the truth?”

“Kind of. They’re putting a ramp in front of the house for Chaya’s wheelchair, so it’s not really a lie.”

Ruchie gaped at Rikki.

“What?” Rikki said cautiously.

“If they’re installing a ramp in front of your house, then you won’t have to tell anyone about Chaya.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone is going to know something is going on. People don’t just have ramps pop up in front of their house for no reason.”

Rikki stood motionless. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t think about that.”

Ruchie’s eyes pooled with sympathy. “Sorry, Rikki Dee.”

***

Miri ignored the girls at the table in the corner of the lunchroom. They weren’t doing anything outwardly bothersome, but she could feel their stares on her back.

She had caught Devory’s smirk as she slid onto the bench and had returned a smile hoping it would ease the ever-growing tension between them. Instead, Devory whispered something to the girls around her and the giggling began. Miri turned her back to them and opened her lunch bag. She picked at her sandwich, feeling like an outcast. It seemed as though everyone in the lunchroom had someone with whom to chat. Although the table where she sat was packed with girls, no one seemed to notice she was there.

She smiled at the girl who sat down on the bench across from her. Perhaps it would spark a conversation. The girl flashed a quick smile then pulled out a sandwich from a paper bag.

“I like your ring,” Miri said. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

Miri nodded, unsure how to continue. She waited for the girl to say something, but her attention was focused on the food before her.

Okaaay, Miri thought. Strike one. “You’re in 8C, right?” She tried again.

“Yep.”

Awkward gap of quiet.

Miri licked her lips. “I’m Miri.”

“I know.” The girl glanced quickly at the corner of the lunchroom, then nervously took a bite of her sandwich.

Tears pricked Miri’s eyes. So that was it! Her stomach tightened until it hurt. She wrapped the aluminum foil around her half-eaten sandwich and stuffed it back into her bag. The girl continued chewing without looking at her. Miri stood up and left the lunchroom. She walked to the secretary’s office without a backward glance.

The secretary looked up from the computer screen. “Hi. It’s Miri, right?”

Miri nodded. “C-can I use the ph-phone?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Miri shook her head. It was too risky to speak.

The secretary held out the phone.

Miri took it and dialed her mother’s cell.

***

Mrs. Weiss touched Miri’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm, but let’s get you home and into bed anyway.”

Miri leaned her head back against the seat. “Thanks for picking me up, Ma.”

“You’re welcome.” She started the ignition and stepped on the gas pedal.

Miri breathed in deeply, inhaling the good feeling of being alone with her mother for the first time in weeks.

Mrs. Weiss looked over at Miri. “Are you feeling very bad, or do you think I can make a quick stop?”

“I’m okay to stop somewhere.”

“Great. I just have to drop off… uh, some shirts at the cleaners. You can wait in the car.”

Miri knew whose shirts they were and was grateful for her mother’s choice of words.

“What’s hurting you, sweetie?”

“My stomach.”

“Oy, I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

“Ma, can stress make someone feel sick?”

“Stress can do a lot of crazy things. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“That’s not the kind of question a 13-year-old asks for no reason. What’s going on?”

“Nothing really.”

Her mother angled her head slightly. “Miri, did something happen in school?”

“I don’t know… maybe.”

“It was a yes or no question.”

Miri faltered. “I… guess so.”

“Is that why your stomach hurts?”

The prickling in her eyes that had stopped when she entered the car returned with a vengeance, and there was no way to hold back the torrent of tears.

To be continued

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 794)

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