Good on Paper by Rachel Cantor

Author:Rachel Cantor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Literary, Fiction, Contemporary Women, Family Life
ISBN: 9781612194714
Publisher: Melville House
Published: 2016-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

33

BALD DONUTS

I woke up feeling lousy, my brain an airless closet.

Ahmad was slumped at the dining room table, his coffee long gone cold.

I wouldn’t forgive him without an apology, but I’d give him every opportunity.

Morning, I said, aware that I was shuffling. Andi get off okay?

Ahmad grunted.

I feel like shit, I added, thinking this might cheer him up.

Coffee’s mud by now, he said, reflectively.

We lapsed back into silence. Maybe he was thinking about Mirabella, her crazy plan to export their sons to America. Maybe he was thinking about dew on a suburban lawn, the simple pleasures of Metro North.

Andi thinks you have a thing for Benny, he said almost grimly. Do you? I remember, vaguely, you thought he was cute?

No! I said too quickly. Can you see me with a rabbi?

What’s wrong with rabbis? Ahmad asked with a half smile.

Everything’s God-this and God-that! I said, and poured myself a double.

I’m at People of the Book a lot and I’ve never heard Benny talk about God.

If you’re a rabbi, you believe in things, you have certainties.

Like Dante, with bagels.

Exactly. Then there’s the ritual, keeping up with the Yiddishisms …

You keep up with the Joneses, why not the Yiddishisms?

We couldn’t have a life together. It’s obvious.

Ahmad shrugged.

Besides, he’s seeing someone.

Ah. There are donuts in the kitchen, but Andi and I ate the good ones.

I was ravenous, I realized. I brought the box to the table, though it contained only what Andi called bald donuts, barely worth the calories.

I looked for the Philosopher’s Tea the other day, I said, but couldn’t find it.

The box was empty; I threw it away.

Really? I asked, hoping Ahmad couldn’t sense how crestfallen I was.

A scanner arrived, by the way. I insisted to DHL that I was Shira Greene.

I laughed.

Hey, I said, I think I know why Romei is so interested in translating his work into English!

Oh? Ahmad had surrendered again to his hazy gloom.

His wife doesn’t speak Italian, can you imagine? Benny told me.

Again with the Benny, always with the Benny. How does he know?

Oops! I shouldn’t have said. He knows Romei, and Esther. Don’t say anything.

You’re confusing me, Shira. It’s too early. I heard you come in last night, by the way.

(I may have tripped on the umbrella stand; I may have reprimanded said umbrella stand.)

Be careful, he said. I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces.

There’s always another umbrella stand, I said, knowing that wasn’t what he meant at all.

Ho, ho, he said, but not in a jolly way.

I picked up a bald donut.

I haven’t heard from her, if that’s what you’re wondering.

Really? I asked.

Not since I agreed to cooperate.

You must be on email day and night, I said.

The time difference doesn’t help, he said.

I’m sorry, I said.

Ahmad shrugged.

No Connecticut if Hassan stays where he is, right? I wanted to ask, but didn’t.

I’ve made a cock-up of my life, Shira. Mistake after mistake. I look back, though, and don’t see how I could have done differently.

You’ve done good, Ahmad, I promise!

Maybe, he said, maybe not.

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