Peep Show by Joshua Braff

Author:Joshua Braff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2010-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

Atlantic City

I WAS SEVEN THE LAST time I stood on this boardwalk. I remember my mother in a man’s shirt and a green ribbon that hung from her beach hat. I remember the taste of Fresca. But that’s about it. The beach is long, about a hundred feet until the water, and there are swimmers and rafters on this hazy, sticky-hot day. On the sand are lifeguard stands and various patches of water from when the tide was higher. The amount of sky and space is what I notice most. And the waves that crash so far off the shore.

My father is very quiet and doesn’t look well. The girls go in and out of giddiness, knowing, perhaps, how this awful crime will unfold. In my mind I’m unconnected from the decision to steal them from their yeshiva. I told him fifteen times we should bring Sarah back. “They’ll figure it out,” he said, and just kept going.

I watch the girls lean over the boardwalk railing in their matching dark dresses. He can be a savior, is my thought. A Robin Hood instead. He plucked them from God’s arms and brought them to the beach, where the salty air fills their lungs with life. My eye goes to the symmetry of their bodies and the contrast of black clothes on blue sky. By the time I get my camera out, Sarah is removing her shoes and now her tights. In court I’ll swear this was never my idea. I’ll apologize to my mother, to Becca Danowitz, to Peter Rabbi, to the grand rabbi and to every sect in every Hasidic community. In Yiddish. I lift my Graflex and try to capture the size of it all.

“Gorgeous, right?” my father says. “Look at the water.”

“Is this the hotel?” Debra asks.

“Yes, right here. The Swan. But we have time before checking in. You girls are free to run around. Take some layers off if you want. I’ll go look for Brandi and see if she’s got some suits for you.”

“Out by the water,” Sarah says. “Let’s walk out there.”

Debra pulls her black sleeves up past her elbows. “I think I’ll stay here,” she says.

“I’ll hold your shoes,” I tell her. “Go. Go on out there.”

“Come on, Dena,” Sarah says, and is off, down the stairs and out on the sand where she stares down at her feet in quiet amazement. Camera to my face, I hear my own breathing as I watch her kick the sand. Click. My sister appears slowly in the bottom right of my lens. Shoes on. Sarah is running now and I have them both in my view. Click.

“David.”

My father is hunched over and his cheeks are a greenish gray.

“Again?” I say.

He clears his throat and coughs like he’s never going to stop. “I don’t see Arlene. I need to go lie down. If you see her, don’t tell her I’m sick. And she definitely doesn’t need to know about—”

“Doesn’t need to know about what?” she says, right behind us.

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