Writing may help her. What might help me right now is to smash something. Break, crush, and demolish something so it can never be glued back together

SUNDAY

“I’m waving from where I stand, do you remember me now?”

The light is glaring between the slats in the blinds. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Rivky will have a field day going on and on about how lazy, undisciplined, and utterly useless I am at doing anything that requires brain cells. I can feel her anger already.

I need a double shot of coffee to combat her voice in my head.

Miri knocks on the door. “Ma, are you up yet?”

I grunt, roll over, reaching for my phone to glance at a text I missed earlier. It’s Shmuel. Saying he had to deal with an emergency at work and will be back later to pick up the kids. I grunt again.

“Yeah, I am.”

She comes in and flicks the light on.

“Miri, I’m sleeping.” I shade my eyes.

Miri laughs. “You said you weren’t. I’m going to bake now. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I can’t find where Babi keeps the oil or the cocoa.”

“You are not baking.”

“I already started. Do you want a half-concocted mess in her kitchen, or can I please make brownie fudge cupcakes, they are sooo good.”

I give up. “Okay. The cocoa is in the cabinet next to the fridge and the oil is under the sink. Just be quiet downstairs, people are there.”

“I can be quiet.”

“I wasn’t implying you can’t.”

“You were.” She huffs.

“Close the light when you leave.”

“Are you coming down?”

“Just close the light.”