“I’m sorry,” Aviva said, noticing Tamar’s hesitation. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I was just wondering if you pay for it yourself. I do”

The train ride home was just as wild and bumpy as the way there had been, but Tamar didn’t notice. All she could think about was that she wished she could turn the train around and go back in the other direction. As she disembarked, she steeled herself for her return to the Weisses. They were nice people, Tamar reflected, but their home was just not hers. And it was so hard to be a guest for so long.

As Tamar emerged from the subway, she was hit by sheets of sleet and ice. The weather had definitely been more pleasant when she went into the subway. It was surreal how much changed when you were speeding under the city, how changed the world often was when you emerged. The frozen rain pecked at her face, stinging her as she walked back to the Weisses, and it was only this that propelled her inside — so reluctant was she to return to the reality of her life. But then she was inside, warmth enveloping her. The smells of ziti baking in the oven and warm vegetable soup bubbling on the stove wafted through the air, beckoning. Tamar glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. Perfect timing.

Taking the steps to the basement two at a time, Tamar deposited the bag with her drawing equipment on the desk in her room and returned to the kitchen just as Mr. Weiss walked in the front door. Shaindy and Mendy were already seated.

“Hey, Mendy,” Tamar said, sliding into the seat next to him, “mind if I sit next to you?”

Mendy took a break from separating the ziti and salad on his plate to look up at her. “You can sit near me,” he replied seriously.

“Dovid?” Mrs. Weiss called to her husband from in front of the stove. “Some soup?”

“Sure,” Mr. Weiss responded. “Just the thing for a day like today.”

“Tamar? Soup?”

“Um, it’s okay, you don’t have to serve me. I can serve myself,” Tamar answered, feeling self-conscious.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Tamar.” Mrs. Weiss passed a bowl of steaming soup down the table. Tamar took it. Mrs. Weiss sat down with her own bowl.

Tamar looked around the table. Devorah was probably still studying at her friend’s, but—

“Where’s Yanky?” Mr. Weiss voiced her question aloud.