His mom craned her neck to the empty seat next to Gideon. Noah called them this morning and said he had to play in a tournament, but he would be at dinner tonight. Gideon knew that his mom was secretly hoping he would show up at services. He did, too. It was tradition. Not the Rosh Hashanah part, but the trying to make the other one laugh.
Friends of Gideon’s mom walked by the aisle and saw the empty seat. His mom told them that Noah was sick and couldn’t make it today. People nodded and wished him a speedy recovery, but it was doubtful if any of them believed her. She wasn’t as good at the lies as he. Their disapproving looks stung Gideon deep down every single time.
“I can’t believe your brother,” his mom whispered to him. She had developed the distinct ability of talking without turning her head. “He chose playing cards over this?”
“He’ll be at dinner tonight,” Gideon said.
“It’s because of her.” She shook her head. “Christina probably didn’t want him to come.”
“He’ll be here for Yom Kippur. He will.” Gideon wanted to believe it, too.
“But you won’t. I wanted our whole family here.”
Yom Kippur was the holiest day of the year in Judaism and occurred ten days after Rosh Hashanah. If the latter was about reflecting on the year that passed, then the former was us asking the big man above to forgive all the terrible things we did over those twelve months. Gideon couldn’t take off ten days from school, so he would be attending services at Browerton.
“He’ll be at dinner tonight.” Gideon patted his mom’s hand.
She tipped Gideon’s chin and gave him a smile that masked her hurt. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve always done the right thing.”
They returned to listening to the rabbi, who was still saying a prayer. Gideon didn’t know if it was the same one or a different one. His eyes landed a few rows in front, where a little kid stood on his chair. Gideon remembered being that bored in services. Now, he had to be an adult and tough it out, but he stood in solidarity with the kid. His parents ushered him down quickly, but not before Gideon caught a glimpse of his Big Bird yarmulke.
“What’s so funny?” His mom asked.
“Nothing.” He felt his cheeks bunch up by his eyes. He pictured Mac in the empty seat next to him, clamping his hand over his mouth to suppress his church giggles—or temple giggles in this case.
“It’s a shame Beth wasn’t able to make it,” his mom whispered. “I think she would’ve loved my matzo ball soup.”
Φ
Noah did make it to dinner. He came by himself. Gideon wondered if his mom had invited Christina. Maybe she was smart enough not to enter the lions’ den.
“I’m glad you could make it,” his mom said to Noah with a tablespoon of motherly guilt. “How was cards?”
“Good. Got next month’s rent wrapped up.”
Unlike Gideon, Noah had been smart and cut off his wily, Saperstein hair. He kept it close-cropped. He could be mistaken for a college student in his jeans and hoodie. It was not proper Rosh Hashanah attire, and his mom’s look reinforced the point.
“I hope it was worth missing one of the holiest days of the year.”
“Mom, this is how I make a living. I told you I’d be at Yom Kippur next week.”
“Sadie Lowenstein’s son is a partner at his Manhattan law firm, and he was able to take off for Rosh Hashanah and sit in temple.”
Noah tightened his jaw. Gideon focused on shoveling matzo ball soup into his mouth. That was the one bright side to this awkward dinner. He got to eat his mom’s delicious home cooking.
“Did she tell you not to come?” His mom pointed an accusatory serving spoon at her oldest son.
“She has a name. Christina. And she didn’t say anything.” Noah put chicken on his plate.
“Well, I’m sorry the second holiest day of the year has so inconvenienced you.”
“Mom,” Gideon said. “It’s okay. He’ll be there for Yom Kippur. It’s not the worst thing if he missed one holiday.”
“It is, Gideon. You wouldn’t miss a holiday.” She pointed at Gideon while looking at Noah. “Your brother wouldn’t miss a holiday.”
Unease churned in his stomach. Gideon hated getting involved. His dad had been the voice of reason in their family. But now that they were down to three, Gideon was perpetually stuck in the middle. His heart strained from the constant push and pull. Both his mom and brother were equally strong-willed. All he needed was the striped referee shirt and a whistle.
“Christina isn’t leaving the picture.”
