Shoshie stood there for a few seconds, hoping her mother would say more, but her mother was focused on the pages. Could a person be jealous of a book?

"Can I speak to Miri?” Shoshie said into the phone.

“I think she’s sleeping. Should I give her a message?”

“Is this Benny?”

“Yes, is this Shoshie?”

“Yes. Can you tell Miri I called to say refuah sheleimah?”

“If I remember.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Shoshie hung up the phone then dragged herself off the bed to open her door a crack. The house was dark and silent. “Hello,” she said. “Anybody there?”

“Shosh?”

Shoshie swung the door open. “Yochevs?”

“Nope,” her mother called back. “It’s me. I think Yocheved went to a friend’s wedding. Can you come here a minute?”

Shoshie joined her mother in the living room. An opened bag of pretzels and a book were on her lap. “Want some?” Her mother shook the pretzel bag.

“No, thanks.” Shoshie tried to see the title of the book her mother was reading but couldn’t. “What are you reading? Is it good?”

“It’s okay.” Her mother closed the book, placing her finger between the pages. “Do you know which friend?”

Shoshie’s face was blank. “Which friend what?”

“The chasunah Yocheved went to. Who’s getting married?”

“Oh.” A tiny part of Shoshie wanted to tell her mother the truth, that Yocheved didn’t know either side. She had gone to eat, but she didn’t want to hurt her mother. “No clue.”

“You okay? You sound upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Great.” Her mother opened the book and continued where she left off.

Shoshie stood there for a few seconds, hoping her mother would say more, but her mother was focused on the pages. Could a person be jealous of a book?