“We get together for one night out, and you guys are like not even here. If you prefer to text all night, why did you even come?

"O kay people chicken steak” my sister Nechama announces. “Oh my gosh I have to text Yossi. He’ll totally crack up. Like hello please call pounded chicken on the bone steak.”

We all laugh and eagerly attack the food. This part of the Anshei Chesed dinner is great. If only we could disappear before the speeches begin. Sitting next to Nechama my eyes follow her fingers as they type. Enjoy the “steak” lol. Maybe smarter not to become fleishig and we’ll share that sinful mochaccino thingie again.

Under the table my thumb massages my own phone screen. The last time Mendy and I shared a mochaccino thingie was um… when?

“Hey ” Malkie says nudging me. She shovels her stir-fry onto my plate. I wink hand her my blueberry muffin in exchange and we high-five. Nothing beats sisters.

Nechama’s phone buzzes. I watch her face break into a grin and then she’s tapping away on her screen again her mouth hanging open in that stupid spacey shanah-rishonah smile.

Holding my phone in my lap I unlock it and go to my messages. Mendy. Can u pick up my shoes from shoe repair? Another one Running in to wedding to say mazel tov will be home a bit late. I continue scrolling through our chat history. A bunch of technical messages. Reminders questions quick favors. There isn’t one warm or funny message nothing bonding not a single sentence that invites a smile.

My sisters yak away about the hurricane the sale in Macy’s if fish sauce jelling powder is or isn’t made from fish bones. Sheva suddenly scrapes back her chair.

“Where are you going?” Malkie asks.

“To the mechitzah. Anshi texted me to meet him there.”

She returns a few minutes later bearing a dessert plate; Napoleon with a scoop of chocolate ice cream. “Just a dare ” she says chuckling. “Anshi swore he wouldn’t touch dessert — he’s on Tanya’s diet for three months now. So we made a deal that I’ll eat it for him.”

More laughter and then predictably the discussion shifts to diets. Nechama is glued to her phone again and when Sheva finishes eating she snaps a picture of her empty plate and types out a message. I can’t read her screen from across the table but I picture the message clearly. Had you in mind!!! And probably a bunch of heart and smiley emoji.

And Sheva is 14 years past shanah rishonah.

Something crackles in my chest. I squeeze my phone under the table breathe deeply sip water. Nothing helps. The fury rises hissing and suddenly fireworks explode in my throat. “This is ridiculous!” I thunder. “We get together for one night out and you guys are like not even here. If you prefer to text all night why did you even come?”

I know I should be looking down and blushing furiously but instead my eyes shoot sparks at Nechama then at Sheva.

“Whoa chill ” Nechama hoots.

“Yeah what got into you?” Malkie says. “Getting all frummie on us and stopping to text?”

“I’m not stopping to text!” I fume. “But when I go out with my sisters I thought it would be nice to spend time with them. Not with my phone.”

“Aren’t we spending time with each other?” Sheva asks blankly.

“With whomever you’re texting, maybe. Face facts, you’re not here. We came here to have a good time, and you’re all so spaced out, I may as well schmooze with the wait staff.”

My sisters open wide eyes and exchange looks. “Someone bit into a lemon,” I hear one murmur.

Malkie squints. “Am I dreaming? Weren’t you busy with your phone just a minute ago?”

“Dunno what your issue is,” Sheva says. “I’m having a great time.”

“Well,” I say tightly, “I’m not.”

Heart hammering, I push back my chair, grab my phone, and dash off.

This isn’t how I planned it, but turns out, I miss all the speeches.

I’m in such a sour mood when I come home, I don’t bother pinning my curls, just dump my sheitel onto the dresser, fully aware that I’ll rue this recklessness tomorrow. When Mendy walks in, I sit on the couch doing absolutely nothing and wait. He says hi and putters around a bit, then gets ready to turn in. I wait some more. How was the dinner? Did you like the “steak?” Did you cheat on dessert?

Telepathy fails. He asks nothing, says nothing, just does his own thing. What was I thinking? When was the last time Mendy cared if I did or didn’t cheat on my diet?

“It’s late, you should come to sleep,” I hear him call.

Mind your own! I want to scream. And no, I didn’t have dessert, and not thanks to any self-control.

His eyes are half-closed when I walk into our bedroom. I turn off the lamp, wait some more.

I’m in a huge fight with my sisters.

I don’t actually say it, because if he didn’t pick up on my bad mood, I don’t feel like sharing. Besides, there’s nobody to talk to. Mendy is fast asleep.