“Where was he last?”

“Penina said she saw him playing with Danny and the twins near the back. The next time she looked, he was gone.”

Pulling her legs shakily up the stairs, Sheina followed Ari onto the deck. It was busy. A clamoring crowd was gathered round the captain. Her younger sister, Penina, was gesticulating wildly. Sheina couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she didn’t need to. On the bench near the railing, Malky was reading Tehillim, her husband Dov was explaining something to their girls.

With the sun spinning madly overhead, Sheina leaned against the boat’s railing and turned her face towards the sea.

“Doda Sheina!” It was Danny. Please. Please leave me be. I’m on a boat trip to disaster. But one look at the boy’s saucer-wide-eyes melted her heart.

“What, Danny?”

He took his hand out of his back trouser pocket and pointed into the distance. “That’s Shmuly’s baseball cap.”

Lifting her hand to her eyes, Sheina peered at the bobbing black blob. It could be anyone’s… Is that even a cap? But Danny was insistent. With the sea breeze rushing through her ears, time stopped.

Gulping at the air, she rushed towards Ari and mouthed in steely resolve. “There! Look there! Shmuly’s cap…” Taking in her unspoken words, Ari followed her hand to the water. His jaw fell. He yanked off his sweat jacket, kicked off his shoes, took three large steps back, sprinted and… jumped.

The waves made way for him and he vanished into their ominous embrace. Sheina watched Ari’s yarmulke float to the surface. She gripped the railing.

Ari’s head reappeared from the depths, and Sheina exhaled. Too late, she remembered his recent bout of flu. This could be the death of him. Please, Hashem! Let them both be safe!

The captain killed the engine and they all gravitated to her side of the deck. Silence. All they could hear was the squawking of seagulls, the rattling spit of a dying motor and the hiss of the angry waves.

“Ta RA RRRRRAM! GOTCHA!!!!”

What???!

“I knew you wouldn’t find me!!”

As one, they tore their gaze away from the struggling Ari, only to behold Shmuly’s freckled face, grinning. Usually, Sheina found the kid impishly cute, right now he seemed grotesque.

“SHMULY!! Where were you?!!!!!” Penina rushed towards him and dropped to the deck, circling his waist with outstretched arms and hugging. Hugging. Hugging. Everyone looked on, stupefied. Everyone except the captain. “Yaaa… Yeled meshuga…” He wiped the perspiration off his forehead with the hem of his shirt and returned to the wheel, to try to steer the boat closer to Ari.

“Where were you, Shmuly?” asked his father, Yoni, trying for a reproachful tone, but not quite succeeding.

“I was hiding all this time! And you couldn’t find me. I found the best place ever!”

“Oh, motek,” injected Penina. “We were so worried! Baruch Hashem, you’re okay! I have to give you another hug, a huge, huge hug.”

Sheina listened to this exchange while watching Ari gasp his way back through the waves. Bile surged inside her.

Helped by the captain and his burly mate, Ari clambered back on board. Rivulets streamed down every inch of his figure, his dripping face a blotchy pink. His chest heaved with exertion.

Sheina rushed to give him his dry sweat jacket, but it was no use, he was soaking. He shivered violently, his teeth chattered, and all the while the wind blew a steady chill in their direction. “Get me blankets, Yoram!” hollered the captain, pointing his chin at a blue wooden chest, secured to the stern. Yoram returned with a pile of thick blankets and began draping them over Ari.

Regaining his breath, Ari raised a quizzical eyebrow at Sheina, and ruffled the back of his head with his hand.

“Wow. You were amazing,” Sheina said.

“Shmuly’s baseball cap, huh?!”

Heat flushed through her face. Sheina looked away.

Do you really think I sent you in for the fun of it?

“How could I have known? It looked like he’d gone under.”

“Nah. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” Ari looked anything but.

The sun was casting its shadow over the Tiberias coastline when the ship’s engine roared back to life. As the boat chugged its way through the waves, Penina and Malky zipped up sweaters, collected sticky wrappers — tidied the scattered remains of their boat trip. The drama had left its mark. Kids were whiny; unsettled; a tad obnoxious. The only one who seemed oddly smug — elated, even — was Shmuly. It jarred on Sheina’s already frazzled nerves. That was not okay.

The coast loomed closer and the city lights grew brighter in the growing darkness. Seagulls squawked raucously, dipping and soaring over the waves, and Sheina watched as Danny sidled up to Tammy, who was flipping through her bas mitzvah album, savoring the personal greetings. “Rotzeh lirot! Let me see!” He pointed at a photo with a grubby finger. “That’s you!” Tammy pursed her lips. “Yeah… that’s me. You can look, but don’t touch, k?”

Penina’s little twins were playing tag round the deck. Rushing forward to join Danny, they ogled the album. “Wow. Zeh yafeh!” Tzvika tried to flip a page.

“No, no… Just look. No touching!” Tammy’s tone was stricter now. But the little kiddo wasn’t listening. He yanked the album out of Tammy’s hands and made off with it. “Hey!” She turned to Penina, who was chatting to her husband at the end of the deck. “Auntie Penina, can you get your kids to give me back my album, please? They’re gonna ruin it!”

Penina glanced up languidly, and yawned. “Hey, kids, be good, will you? Tammy wants her album back.” Exchanging a mischievous look, the twins started off towards the stairs. Sheina felt her fingers twitch. Penina…?! DO something! But her sister was back to chatting.

Tammy squealed and jumped after the two, meeting Sheina halfway. “Kiddos! Not Nice!” Sheina said firmly, bending over the two of them. Her tone said it all. “Give me that album!” The laughter died out of their faces and a chubby twin handed it over. “Thank you!” said Sheina, handing it to Tammy, who flashed her a smile.

Returning to Ari, Sheina listened to him coughing with growing concern. He looked pale and spent. “Are you warm enough, Ari?” He nodded. “I’m sorry I sent you in like that.” He nodded again, and answered weakly: “It’s fine. You did the right thing! It was an honest mistake.”

Does he really think that? Or is he just saying it?

Huddled in a woollen wrap, Sheina listened to the soft purr of the engines, and, closing her eyes, inhaled the scent of the wooden deck. Memories assailed her, as cold and dark as the kitchen closet that Abba had built for Ima all those years ago.

The cupboard was stuffy and still strewn with sawdust. It was large — large enough for all of Ima’s cans and jars, pastas and rice. Abba had promised that they could help her stack them neatly when the shelves were finally in.

Sitting inside, shoulder to shoulder and legs in a tangle, the cupboard seemed to have shrunk. Specks of sawdust tickled at her nostrils, and Sheina swiftly stifled a sneeze. Malky jammed an elbow into her ribcage. “Shhh!” she pantomimed, finger to lip; eyes damning, accusing. “I’m trying!” Sheina mouthed back at her, flashing eyebrows in return. Penina giggled. Malky glared at her, too. Then she stopped. Someone was entering the kitchen. A slim sliver of light was their only portal to the kitchen — coming through the space between the cupboard doors — but it was enough for them to make out Ima at the marble counter, ladling out two bowls of soup. A happy excitement rippled through Sheina. Ima didn’t know they knew — Ima never made a big deal out of her birthday. But they were going to!

Ima joined Abba at the table.

“Now!” Malky touched her nose (their pre-arranged signal…) and the three girls began humming in unison. Sheina grinned in the thick, dense darkness. Malky always has the best ideas.

Their song belted forth from behind the new pantry doors. Deep and nasal; slightly off-tune, but an undeniable celebration: Hayom yom huledet…!

Abba jumped. His spoon flew out of his hand. Thick orange soup splattered his shirt, dirtying the tiled floor. “What’s going on?” he roared.

Ima just blinked into space. An astonished grin stretched across her face. She hadn’t missed the point. Not like Abba.

His chair scraped across the floor. Sheina covered her ears. Still, the sound of Abba’s bark was inescapable as the pantry doors flew open and his irate face peered into the gloom.

“What are you thinking? This is crazy!! I told you not to touch the cupboard until the glue dries, didn’t I?! Whose silly idea was this anyway?” His eyes flashed fire, his lips twisted in dismay. Abba didn’t wait for an answer, he ordered them out, and bent down to check the damage. Then he shooed them off to bed for the night.

As they filed by, Ima sighed in resignation. Poor Ima.

Ari’s coughing worsened. By the time they were back in the hotel, he was running a fever. Malky — bless her competent soul — came up with Advil and a warm scarf, but Ari looked miserable.

Sheina felt miserable, too. Bye-bye beautiful getaway. What’s worse: He’s a hero. I’m a gullible fool. And Shmuly is… is… SO not a hero in my books — and all Penina did was give him a hug. I’ll have what to say to her in the morning.

But she wasn’t going to say it. She never did.

She and Ari nodded politely at each other all evening, two colleagues in a train heading for different destinations. Sheina plied Ari with tissues and more Advil as needed, but he didn’t have much energy for talking, and she couldn’t figure out what to say. As for his coughing, it grated on her nerves; every hoarse attack a blatant reminder of the newlywed who almost killed her husband through her stupidity.

By morning, Ari’s fever had climbed.

“Should I get you a tray from the dining hall? Maybe we should get you to a doctor?” Ari groaned and pulled the duvet tighter around his shoulders.

Sheina bit her lip.

“I know. I’m going to get you fresh lemons, honey, and herbal tea, that always works wonders for a cough. Maybe freshly squeezed OJ, too?” Eyes still closed, Ari nodded feebly. Let’s hope that will do the trick.

Malky and Penina were already on dessert when Sheina finally made it down to the dining hall. Pools of sodden cornflakes and leftover eggs bore testimony to the kids’ hearty breakfast. “Where are they all?” Sheina asked, aware of a sinking sensation. She couldn’t stomach another prank.

“Juggling act… a magician. They’ve scrambled to catch good seats,” said Penina and winked: “Works fine for me. I’m solidly attached to this one.”

“Hmm. Something smells good.”

“This? It’s a kind of chocolate porridge. Try!” Penina waved a spoon at her.

It was good. Sheina filled herself a comforting bowl of dense chocolate pudding and joined her sisters. “Reminds me of that oatmeal stuff Ima used to make us in winter, remember?”

Malky smiled. “Sure. Daysa. Couldn’t stand the stuff — but, yeah, you Sheina, you used to lick your spoon.”

Penina wrinkled her nose. “Daysa? Why don’t I remember that?”

Malky shrugged. “Memories are funny things,” she said. “They’re different for everyone.”

“Interesting that you say that,” said Sheina, then stopped short, wondering whether to bring it up.

“Why?” said Malky, fishing for the unsaid.

“Well…, after Shmuly pulled that hiding shtick yesterday, I remembered how we hid in Ima’s new pantry and sang Hayom yom huledet.” Malky and Penina both fell silent. “Didn’t turn out so well, huh?”

“But…,” “Yeah..” they piped up together. They exchanged looks. Penina offered Malky the right of way. “Yeah, that was me being stupid. I should have realized Abba would be angry.”

“Stupid?” Penina turned to her sister, wide-eyed. “I recall that scene vaguely, but I don’t think you were stupid. You were little, and you just wanted to make Ima happy. I think you were spunky and sweet.” Sheina flipped Penina’s words over in her mind, allowing them to fall into so many empty craters marked by a string of question marks.

“Spunky…. for sure. Sweet… debatable,” conceded Malky. “But, I was wrong. Abba had warned us not to touch that cupboard and I ignored him. You were both younger, but I was old enough to understand.”

Sheina nodded. Malky had such a clear sense of right and wrong. She wished some of it would rub off on her. “Actually,” Sheina charged, before she’d lose her nerve, “talking about understanding n’ stuff… y’know, I was a bit shocked, Penina, that you didn’t say anything to Shmuly yesterday. My Ari could have drowned… and all you did was hug him!” Sheina stopped and breathed in. Did I really say all that?!

A glance passed between her sisters. Penina stared at the tablecloth, smoothed out a wayward thread, then raised her eyes to Sheina.

“I don’t like dishing it straight, Sheina, but I don’t know how else to say it… “

Sheina nodded. I’m listening.

“You’re still waiting to be a mother. If you’d have gotten married a few years ago, you could have been a mother of three by now. Fact is… you don’t yet know what it’s like. I thought we’d lost him yesterday. I thought he was fish fodder…” Arms folded, Penina pressed against the back of her chair. “How else was I supposed to greet him? Was I meant to, like, yell at him and send him to bed?!”

Sheina felt the nausea rise within her once again. And something else, too. A startling flame of smouldering anger. It prodded her to continue. “No. No. Sorry. My not having children, Penina; my marrying late — has nothing to do with what I’m saying. And if it does — then, you know what? I’m glad. If a kid does something foolish and wrong — dangerous even — he should be told. That doesn’t mean he has to be yelled at. But told.”

“Er… this might surprise you, Sheina, but I do understand Penina…” Malky said quietly. “I think we both go out of our way to give our kids a peaceful upbringing — and I imagine you’ll want that, too. Like you were just saying… growing up — it wasn’t exactly peaches and cream. If we sometimes overshoot to the other extreme — well, let’s just say, it’s to be expected.”

Filled with a whirling mixture of outrage, dismay, and sympathy, Sheina opened her mouth to reply.

“Wait a minute…” Malky stayed Sheina’s words with the palm of her hand.

“I didn’t say Penina was right. I said I could understand her reaction. But, I’ll be honest with you, Penina… Sheina has a point, too. Shmuly should be told, and, if you ask me… he should be made to pay a price for putting you through the wringer.”

She didn’t want to go straight up to Ari.

“Shmuly’s baseball cap, huh?!” For reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, Sheina was still smarting from that remark. Ari said he understood, but Sheina didn’t trust his equanimity.

The sea lay still this morning. Pristine, capped waves lapped up against each other in gurgling friendship. Hugging her knees on the seashore, Sheina drank in the tranquillity, mulling over Malky’s perceptions.

Is that how people raise their kids? Live their lives? Riding fearsome waves right through to infinity. What does it take to make a person weigh anchor? Stop and change course?

She pawed at the gravelly beach, cupping sand in her hand, watching mindlessly as the grains drifted through her fingers until her fist lay empty. There was a man somewhere, who captured grains of sand on film. Seen by the naked eye, they were all the same. Plain. Brown. Innocuous. But when magnified a million times over, each grain was a universe bursting with color, pulsating with purpose. Each grain meant the world.

Am I overblowing grains of sand? Seeing hurt when all he means is love?

An unformed thought kept gnawing at her, but she couldn’t pin it down. Ari says it’s fine. Why do I feel he’s upset at me? Here in my hand, sand is just sand.

The man at the desk had provided clear instructions to the grocery, but halfway down the promenade, a teeming street market beckoned. Shoving the crumpled instructions into her pocket, Sheina stepped into the busy crowd. Scented spices, tasselled scarves, and gaudy souvenirs competed for attention. Ignoring them, Sheina shouldered on until she found what she was looking for. The lemons were plump and bright. “A bag, please!” Oranges, too? Vitamin C?

Still deliberating, she took in a white-haired gentleman standing a few feet away. “Remind me again,” he said, talking to his elbow, “what is it I’m meant to be doing?”

The petite, coiffed lady at his side gave a patient smile. “Just check for bumps and warts, stuff like that. Pick the nice ones.”

“Aha.” Sagely nodding, he bent over and looked her in the eye. “Is that what you did when you picked me?” Her wrinkled face broke out into a grin.

She chuckled. “Oh, no,” she said. “I took you, warts and all.” He laughed and filled his bag with Granny Smiths.

Sheina’s fingers roamed over the cascading oranges, then clutched onto one. Her heart ached in a strange, no-idea-why sort of way. But she looked at the gentleman and his serenely smiling lady and she knew.

They look so sure of themselves. Of each other. Will we look like that when we’re 60, Ari and I? Or will I still be second-guessing our exchanges, forever fearful of the kitchen closet?

Their exchange resonated all the way back to the hotel, till she almost forgot the honey. The man at the desk came to her rescue once more. He popped into the hotel kitchen and brought out a little container just for Ari.

“Thanks!”

“My pleasure,” he said with a salute. And his merry twinkle reminded her again of the couple at the market stall.

Ari was awake, propped up by three plump pillows, reading. He acknowledged her as she came in, then coughed; his smile half-hearted, reserved. She returned his smile, and a glimmer of surprise showed in his eyes. “Look!” she raised her bag of goodies. “One lemon tea… Coming up!”

The kettle whistled. Sheina cheerfully concocted a cup full of goodness.

Ari looked baffled. “I don’t understand” he said, breaking the affable silence.

“What?”

“You looked so upset yesterday. Like I was the enemy, or something.”

Please, don’t! Don’t say it!

“… when all I did was to try to save your nephew, because you asked me to!”

He spread his hands in bewilderment, his bafflement besieging her like a barrage of barbs.

The happiness that had been propping her up all the way from the market deflated with a sorry sigh. Tentacles of prickly remorse squeezed her heart, wiping the smile off her face, shutting her down, leaving him out in the cold once again.

She turned her back and poured boiling water into the cup, letting it flow in a steady stream. She gave the tea a long, slow, upset stir. And another one. Sloshing around in the mug, the tea rippled outward, tiny peaks of golden lemon juice cresting in the middle; crashing outwards. Waves. Sand. Magnified grains of meaning and purpose. Again, the analogy gripped her. I have to stop this. Reacting to waves without stopping to think. Afraid of the ebb and flow. It’s time to take charge of my destiny. It’s time to change course.

Gripping the tea mug, she walked towards him, determined.

She swallowed.

“You’re right,” she said. She smiled at him. A bright, accepting smile.

“I was upset .But it wasn’t about you. It was all about me. You were amazing! Truly.” She smiled. “Can you please hurry up and get better now, so that we can finally go out and enjoy the beach?”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 576)