“Good challah.”

“Thanks,” Zahava said. She passed the boys the dips. Markowitz was tall — taller than Levi, probably taller than Moishy too. Not that that meant anything.

“My parshah sheet first!” Suri screamed.

“You went first last week!”

Reuven shifted the baby on his lap so he could eat. “What does your father do?”

Markowitz swallowed an enormous bite. “Um, Fidelity Equity,” he said.

She’d known from first glance that they were wealthy. Not that that meant anything, either.

Reuven nodded. “In the city?”

“Yeah.” Markowitz shrugged. “We used to live there, but my mom hated it, my dad said he could get a driver and live with the commute, so…”

Zahava couldn’t resist. “Does your mother work?”

“Yeah, she’s an interior decorator.”

“That’s nice.”

“We could use one,” Levi piped up. “In the dorm. You should see…” He and Markowitz were laughing.

“I want the croutons!”

“I got them first!”

“You spilled it! Now you clean it up!”

Zahava glanced at Levi. Was he embarrassed? Maybe he hadn’t even noticed. He and Markowitz were laughing again.

The bar mitzvah portraits smirked down at her from their place on the wall. She remembered her sisters laughing. “Bar mitzvah boys are babies,” Chayala had said. “They’re little kids in Tatty hats. Look at him, I want to pinch his cheeks.” And it was true, Levi had looked adorable, his narrow shoulders and cute face topped by the sober black hat. In the pictures his eyes were alight, a childish grin shining on his face.

She stretched an arm toward the picture, longing to touch that Levi again, her happy son, from a simpler time. She remembered his excited chatter; now he was 14, spoke in one-syllable words, and had forgotten the pride in the black hat he had chosen so carefully.

Now there was Markowitz, who’d shown up this afternoon with his LeBron sneakers and his father’s chauffer and his hair that was just a little too long, like he needed a haircut, except that this was the haircut.

Markowitz saw her looking at him. “The soup is delicious,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said again. He definitely had manners. She was both disappointed and relieved.

She cleared the soup and served the main course, then cleared that and brought out dessert. The little kids alternately ate and fought, Reuven sang and talked, and the boys sat and consumed enormous portions of food. You think too much, she told herself.

***

Adina called at 1:45, just as she was getting ready to leave the house.

“How was your Shabbos?”

“Baruch Hashem, yours?”

“Great, the baby’s feeling better so I got to sleep. How’s Levi doing?”

“Fine. I mean, you know how much teenagers talk.” She didn’t say how much he talked to Markowitz. That was normal, right? Moishy was probably the same way.

“Yeah, totally. Did he tell you about that whole thing in yeshivah last week?”

Zahava put her keys down. “No. What?”

Adina hesitated. “Moishy said some kids got into a little trouble.”

Zahava closed her eyes. “Levi?”

“No!”

She started breathing again. “Oh, for a second I thought—”

“I mean, I don’t know. Moishy didn’t know. He said no one really knows who was involved, not even the hanhalah.”

Zahava looked at the clock: 1:48, she really had to leave. “Tell me quick, what happened?”

“You know there’s a Costco like a mile or two from the dorm?”

“Okay.”

“It seems like a few boys went there to watch the World Series.”

Zahava tried to process this. “They cut school and went to Costco?”

“I’m not sure, Moishy wasn’t sure. It sounds like they went during supper.”

Of course Moishy wasn’t involved, Zahava thought disjointedly. Moishy didn’t even know exactly what had happened. But Levi…?

“How do they even know it happened? If they don’t know who it was?”

“Oh.” Adina hesitated. “They do know one kid for sure. Moishy didn’t tell me his name. But apparently this kid is from a rich family, he got his father’s chauffer or something to drive them.”

Levi, Zahava thought, Please tell me you didn’t do this.

“What happened to him?”

“Who, the kid with the driver? I don’t know. Moishy thought he might get suspended. You know,” she said, trying to offer some indirect comfort for a mess they weren’t even sure had happened, “it’s not so bad, to go to Costco and watch a baseball game. I mean, in the scheme of things…”

“In the scheme of things, this is the kind of thing a yeshivah like this kicks kids out for.”

“They don’t know who the other boys are. I don’t think you have to worry about Le— about it.”

Zahava resisted the urge to laugh hysterically. I don’t think you have to worry about Levi!

“Levi’s a good kid,” Adina protested to the silence.

“Yeah,” Zahava said. “Listen, I have to go.”

***

The problem, Zahava thought savagely as she stabbed shirtsleeves over  wire hangers, was that so much depended on interpretation. And when all the little pieces finally added up, it was too late to go back and change anything.

Had Levi gone to Costco with Markowitz?

What else didn’t she know?

The closet was crammed, no room for the shirts. Zahava hesitated. Did Levi still wear all this stuff? Maybe she could clear some of it out? This blue T-shirt had been Levi’s favorite, but she couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn it. These days he favored the orange shirt, with the Adidas sweatshirt over it.

She missed the blue shirt.

It’s laundry, she told herself firmly. Just laundry. Don’t invest it with meanings and memories. Just put it away.

The bed was unmade. At least that was normal. Zahava reached for the cover, then drew back. Is she teaching him the wrong thing if she cleans up for him? Maybe he should come back on Friday to find an unmade bed?

She pictured it: walking in the door, favorite foods cooking, he goes upstairs and his room is a mess. Would he feel like no one missed him or thought of him or anticipated his return?

She imagined him walking in to a bright, fresh room — clean clothes in the closet, an inviting bed, shades open so the sun pours in. That room says you’re wanted here, we missed you.

Gosh, she can’t even make a stupid bed anymore! Zahava yanked the covers toward her and shook them out. She’d make Levi’s bed, and if something went… wrong… he’ll still know that she loves him! She snapped the covers angrily.

Something sailed out from between the folds and landed on the floor with a thud.

Her breath vanished as she stared down, and the blanket writhed to the floor. The cellphone sat there, shiny and unfeeling, while the room tilted and Zahava sat down, hard, on the unmade bed.

***

There was so much going on in her head, even cooking a pot of macaroni was overwhelming.

“I can’t deal with this,” she snapped aloud.

Reuven appeared in the doorway. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” she retorted. “When I find out that my kid is hiding things from me?”

Reuven raised his eyebrows. “I thought we said we weren’t going to jump to conclusions.”

Zahava rolled her eyes. The phone rang. She grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Ma?”

For an instant her heart stopped. “Levi?”

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded like he always did.

“How are you?” she asked, struggling to stay coherent.

“Good. Ma?”

“Yes?”

“Did you find a phone?”

What?

“What?”

“Markowitz lost his phone. We thought maybe he left it by us.”

A whole sentence. “I didn’t know the yeshivah allows phones.”

“It’s not a smartphone,” Levi said.

“It’s allowed?”

“Did you find it?”

Zahava fell onto a chair. “Yes, I was straightening up your room, I found it on your bed.”

“She found it!” Zahava heard Levi crow, suddenly sounding again like the buoyant kid that had been missing for months. She could hear muffled exclamations through the line. “Thanks, Ma! Um, wait.” Zahava heard a hushed consultation with another boy, presumably Markowitz, then Levi came on the line again. “I guess he’ll come by to get it sometime, okay? Can you put it where the little kids won’t get it? Don’t let anyone into my room,” he reminded her.

“Okay,” Zahava said.

“Bye,” Levi said. He hung up.

“I love you,” Zahava said.

***

“Why do you have to suspect him?” Reuven challenged her. “Maybe he didn’t go?”

“It’s just…”

“You thought the phone was his and you were wrong.”

The phone. Zahava froze. Was there evidence in Markowitz’s phone? Pictures? For sure he took pictures.

As soon as she can escape, she goes upstairs and takes the phone out of the drawer.

Reuven would kill her.

Zahava tapped the desk, thinking. Reuven thought it wasn’t important to know, but Zahava thought it was. She needed to know who her son was and where he was holding.

Was it okay to look through a kid’s phone?

Zahava frowned and tilted her head, pushing the thought away. Whatever, she would think about that later. It might be locked anyway.

Disappointment washed over her. It probably was locked. She flipped the phone open.

The home screen glowed. Zahava pressed a random number. The dial screen appeared. It wasn’t locked. Shocked, she snapped the phone shut.

Then she opened it again. There was the little camera icon. One press of a button, then she would know.

Zahava reached for her own phone.

Adina answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a quick question.”

“Go for it.”

“Would you read your kid’s diary?”

“What?”

“Would you read your kid’s diary.”

“My kids don’t keep diaries.”

“If Moishy kept a diary would you read it?”

“Without permission?”

“Who gives their parents permission to read their diary?”

“Zahava?” Adina said tentatively. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Ummm… okay.” She obviously didn’t believe her, but she wasn’t going to push. “Um, I don’t think it’s okay to read your kid’s diary.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s private. That’s the whole point of a diary. And besides, they’re going to find out, and they’ll never trust you again.”

This derailed her. “They’ll find out?”

“Of course.”

“How?”

“You’re going to act on the information you find there, right?” Adina wasn’t stupid. “Even if they don’t figure out the details, they’re going to know they can’t trust you.”

Zahava was quiet. She thought Adina was probably right.

“Does Levi keep a diary?” Adina asked curiously.

“No,” Zahava said. “What about reading someone else’s diary, though. Would it be wrong to read another kid’s diary?”

This time Adina didn’t hesitate. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“There’s never any justification for it? What if you thought they were in real trouble?”

“Is there a kid you know who keeps a diary and you think they’re in real trouble and no one will ever know about it unless you read their diary?”

“No,” said Zahava.

“You know,” Adina said hesitantly, “Kids make mistakes… it’s normal… they don’t think.”

“Yeah,” said Zahava. She wished she were a kid again.

***

The lighting was dim, with a purple glow. They paid so much for the food, Zahava thought, and then kept it so dim that you couldn’t even see what you were eating.

“My boys had an off-Shabbos this week,” a woman next to her sighed. Zahava recognized her — Devorah-something, a cousin of the chassan’s, she thought “It’s going to take me weeks to recover.”

Fraida Cohen was sitting near her. “I know what you mean. You cook for a month, and the food disappears as soon as they walk in the door.”

“At least you have a daughter to help you,” Devorah said.

“One daughter,” said Fraida. “Four bochurim. We don’t stand a chance.”

“And then you barely get to talk to them,” a woman across the table griped, “because they sleep the entire Shabbos. And when they’re not sleeping, they’re learning. And you feel like you can’t interrupt that.”

Did she really sound smug, Zahava wondered, or was it her own mood?

“They grow up so fast,” said another woman.

“In some yeshivos…” says Devorah knowingly.

Zahava noticed Tziporah from down the block. She was sitting with her arms tightly folded and her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t ask my teens questions,” declared a woman Zahava didn’t know. “I don’t want to know.”

Zahava stared at her.

“The ones who would answer you aren’t the ones you have to worry about,” another woman said. “And the ones who won’t answer — how are you going to find out?”

Zahava bit her lip.

“It’s not like you can do anything,” she continued.

“There’s always something to do,” another woman said.

“All you can do is be a good role model,” the woman beside her sing-songed.

Zahava flushed.

“I would want to know,” Fraida announced. “Even if I couldn’t do anything.”

“Easy for you to say,” a woman said.

“You gotta give them space,” said Devorah sagely. “Trust them, they’ll live up to it.”

Did she really believe that with blind optimism she could somehow force the universe into doing what she wanted? She glanced at Tziporah again, who rolled her eyes but still said nothing.

“Maybe we should ask Rabbi Fried about Levi,” she told Reuven when they were back in the car.

“What exactly are you going to ask him?”

Zahava was silent. “Did he go with Markowitz to Costco?” she said finally.

Reuven turned to look at her. “If he did,” he said, “what could you do about it?”

***

“Zahava? Where are— oh, what are you doing in here?”

Zahava whirled around. “Reuven! You scared me.”

He looked at her oddly, then looked around Levi’s room. “I needed your signature for the tax return… What are you doing in here?”

She groped for an answer. His eye fell on the phone on the dresser. He raised his eyebrows. Then he handed her a pen. “Can you sign this quickly?” He glanced around and put the documents on the night table.

Acutely aware that she had given no reason for being there, Zahava reached over and signed.

“Thanks,” Reuven said. He straightened the papers and turned to leave.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Zahava blurted out.

“Say anything about what?”

“You know.” She tilted her head to the phone. Why was he pretending?

He grinned at her. “Nah,” he said. “I trust you.”

Then he walked out.

***

The doorbell rang. Zahava put down the laundry basket. When she opened the door, the bright sunlight made her squint, so she didn’t immediately recognize the boy standing there.

“Uh, hi,” he said.

It was Markowitz. “Hello,” Zahava said, as warmly as she could.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said politely. There was a black BMW purring idly at the curb. Zahava could make out the form of the driver at the wheel, bent forward over a blue glow. “Um,” Markowitz said. Zahava looked back at him. “Levi said I could come get my phone?”

“Of course,” Zahava said quickly. “One minute. Come inside.” She turned and began climbing the stairs, first heavily, then gaining speed. She pushed open the door to Levi’s room. It was now or never. She picked up the phone, feeling the weight in her hand. Now. She had to do it now.

There was only one thing she could do.

She was hardly aware of moving, the carpet sliding soundlessly below her feet, and suddenly she found herself at the door, blinking again in the light.

“Here,” she said to Markowitz, a little breathlessly.

He took the phone. “Thanks,” he said, turning.

“Wait!” Zahava said. She ran back into the kitchen, wrapped the brownies she’d just taken out of the oven in foil, and slid them into a Ziploc bag. She grabbed a Post-It and scribbled — a smiley, a heart, Love, Ma. She stuck the Post-It onto the bag. It was still hot. Her fingers burned.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the package to Markowitz. “Can you give this to Levi?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Tell him I said he should share.” She winked at Markowitz and shut the door.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 742)