Yup, she was definitely my daughter. There was a lull. I stayed quiet for as long as I could handle the silence

"What are you doing here?” Leah asked. I couldn’t entirely read her voice — she sounded happy, just faking annoyance. Or was it the other way around?

“Just here for you.” I shrugged, then looked around the waiting room, which was thankfully pretty empty. Leah raised a brow.

“Glucose tests are boring, and you’re hungry. I’m here to distract you.”

“How’d you know it was today?”

“A little birdy told me.”

“Pinny?”

“I threatened to have Tatty faher him like when you were dating, so he caved.”

Leah laughed. “I told him to go to first seder.”

“I know. The only reason he listened was because he knew I was coming.” I gestured to a chair. “Can I sit?”

“It’s a free country.”

Not exactly an invitation, but I took it. I sat down across from Leah, a low coffee table piled with parenting magazines between us. I put my bags on the floor and unpacked them one item at a time, placing the contents on top of the newest Gerber baby gracing Mommy and Me.

“I brought Bananagrams and Rat-a-Tat-Cat. And chess, just so we look smart, but we’re not playing. I brought your old gameboy, I put in new batteries. I almost brought Bop It — I remembered how much you loved it — but then realized everyone in this waiting room would hate me.”

Leah chuckled. Yay! I reached down again.

“A good ole deck of cards, we can play Spit or War if we’re feeling brainless.”

I thrust my hand back in.

“Travel Othello — it has magnets. Brilliant, no?” I was too excited over the magnets, I knew that, but Leah smiled. It looked real.

“And books,” I reached for the next bag and poured out its contents dramatically. The books tumbled and fell across the table.

“Labels for Laibel?” Leah turned the book over in her hands.

“You always loved the pictures.”

“Still do,” she said, flipping through the pages absently, pausing on the page where Mother returned her solitary plate to the kitchen.

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, Worldmask. How did you even choose, Ma?”

“I went to the basement and just plucked any book I remembered you liking. I wasn’t sure about Huckleberry Finn, but I decided that you’re my daughter, of course you like it.”

Leah’s face darkened a moment. What did I say?