Zeidy, Aunt Chana, and Aunt Shevi all show up together, a few minutes later.

“Raizy! Is Bubby okay? What’s happening?”

Almost immediately, a doctor comes over to give an update. I want to be annoyed that we were kept waiting until the adults arrived, but I’m too busy trying to hear what he’s telling Zeidy and the aunts.

“Fracture… will be okay. It seems she fainted from shock, maybe a little dehydrated,” I hear him saying.

Whew. I sink back into the uncomfortable chair. Bubby’s okay.

They’re talking about discharge and rehab and practicalities and Zeidy says something like, “What about Ashira?”

That’s when Aunt Chana seems to remember our existence.

“Girls! You’re total heroes.” She hugs first Raizy, then me. It’s so nice to be acknowledged, to have the weight of the emergency lifted off our shoulders, that I forget I was so upset with her and just hug her back. “Baruch Hashem, Bubby’s okay. They’re keeping her tonight for observation, and then she’ll have to recover, but b’ezras Hashem everything will heal nicely.”

I’m so relieved that Bubby’s okay but I’m also sagging from exhaustion. I just want to get back home. How are we supposed to get home from here, anyway?

Aunt Chana pats my shoulder. “Okay, girls, get in the car, I’ll take you home, then I’m coming right back with soup and some supper for Bubby and all of us.”

She continues talking throughout the drive home, and I’m glad for the chance to sit quietly while Raizy answers the occasional question. They’re sitting in the front, and I’m alone in the back seat, so I lean back, look out the window, and try to figure out if any of the streets look familiar.

We pull up outside Bubby’s house just as I notice my first familiar landmark. Hmm, I guess I need to get to know the area a little better.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, hopping out.

“Get your stuff, we’ll wait,” Aunt Chana tells me.

Wait. What?

“You’re staying with us tonight, you can’t be home alone,” Aunt Chana says, like it’s obvious. “There’s plenty of space, you can share Raizy’s room.”

Oh, I bet Raizy is just overjoyed at this. But my cousin’s face looks neutral, and when I meet her eyes she gives a half-shrug, half-nod, as if to say, if we have to, we have to.

Or is it a yeah, we can make this work?

“Okay, sure,” I say slowly.

I grab a knapsack and try to figure out how much to bring. My stuff for tonight? Am I staying a few days, a week? Does anyone know what’s happening here?

Well, Aunt Chana certainly seems to think she does. If only she’d let me in on it a little earlier.

I do not enjoy having people run my life for me. But okay, I’ll admit she’s right: I wouldn’t want to be on my own tonight. I think of Bubby lying still and silent on the kitchen floor and I can’t suppress a little shudder. I know she’s okay, but I wish I could’ve seen her for myself before we left the hospital.

Pajamas, uniform for tomorrow, my notebooks… I want something else, something more.

My eye falls on the package from Ima — the new diary, with her letter tucked inside. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to write in it yet, but now… I feel different. Was it only a few hours ago that I had that conversation where she explained her story?

And then with Bubby falling, and that trip in the ambulance, the fear, the waiting….

Everything has happened so fast, I haven’t had the time to think about it, to process. And now that I’m suddenly, finally alone, it feels like the combined weight of so many things are crashing back down on me.

Leaving home.

New room, new home, new faces, new school.

Ima’s letter, her secret, that mortifying meeting with Mrs. Gerber.

And on top of all that, Bubby, Raizy, Aunt Chana, and yet another change.

Even if my move into Aunt Chana’s place is just temporary, it feels… overwhelming. I just want a piece of… something… to hold on to. Something that feels stable, permanent.

I pack the diary, and its gleaming green cover seems reassuring, comforting. Maybe I’ll start writing in it tonight.

Ten minutes later Aunt Chana drops us off and speeds off into the dark night to pick up her takeout order.

Inside, Raizy and I look at each other. Now that the emergency is over, now that we’re back on home ground again, the awkwardness is back.

Raizy coughs. “It’s late. I’m going to make your bed,” Raizy says. Not ungracious, but almost overly polite, like we’re strangers.

Which, I guess we kind of are.

Without looking back at me, she heads up the stairs.

Okaaaay. I can do this. I’ve moved across the world, met a gaggle of cousins I barely knew. I can handle Raizy’s mood swings.

I wave airily to Tzivi and Dini, who are peeking wide-eyed through the bannister, and march up the stairs behind Raizy.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 958)