As we stood at Har Sinai, the experience flooded senses; we saw the thunder, heard the lightning. The lightning fades, but the sudden burst of clarity takes you forward. 6 women share a moment that illuminated their path

As told to Michal Abrahams

Ma is preparing my snacks, placing the fruit in the container just as I like it — four peach quarters, a peeled pear. The bags under her eyes look ready to capsize, rowboats in a storming ocean.

I watch her carefully as she closes the lid with a click, avoiding my gaze. A crowd of butterflies take wing in my stomach. Dad hasn’t done it again, has he?

I know it will hurt her, it will. But I can’t take the not knowing. “Is Dad okay?” I ask. She swivels round suspiciously, looks hunted.

“No.”

My back stiffens. “What did he do?” Ma turns around to prepare Chani’s snacks and starts cutting again. As the knife hits the board, she answers in a monotone, “Overdose.”

Not again.

My heart splinters, but it can’t break. I have school, have a life. We all have to get on with it. My mind moves to Dad, and I shake my head vigorously. As if that helps me forget.

The butterflies are hovering, but my brain furiously pushes them down. I’m fine, it’s fine, we’re always fine. It’s just another depressive “episode,” as the doctors say. He’ll be okay. I give Ma a hug and grab the fruit container. My insides are screaming it’s too much, too much. But I’m fine. I’m okay. All I have to do is go to school. Not a big deal, really. Just my life.

In school I act like everything is normal. Something niggles at the back of my brain, but I push it away and hiss at it to leave me alone until a more opportune time. It makes me squirm anyway. When lunchtime comes, I can’t touch the fruit.

Batting away the thoughts, I walk toward my locker. Bell is ringing. Time for class.

On my way to math class, I speed past the mechaneches’s door. I dream of knocking on it, telling someone about this act, this farce, this life. But I’m fine, it’s only Dad who has the problems. So I sit in my seat and force every fiber of my being to work out the x’s and y’s in Algebra I.

And I forget all about silly things, like fathers and mothers and containers of fruit and too many pills.