The Dreidel Do-Over by Amanda Usen

Author:Amanda Usen [Usen, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Balancing Act Press

Her words punched a hole in his heart, and all the feelings he’d walled up in there fought to get out.

Asher held her gaze, mute. His teeth clenched, jaw locked tight. His breath came short and shallow in his throat.

“Asher?” She took his hand again, threading her fingers with his. Comfort stole through him, easing the tightness in his chest and jaw. “Are you all right? I’m sorry for pushing if it’s too much. You don’t have to tell me.”

He hadn’t built this wall to keep people out. He’d made it to keep his feelings inside—and he wanted to share them with her. “I changed. My life changed. Everything changed.”

He took a breath. “One day I was waiting for my favorite uncle to arrive to light the candles on the first night of Hanukkah, looking forward to his kugel and his bag of knishes. The next night we were saying a blessing in memory of him. He had a heart attack in his apartment. We sat shiva for the rest of Hanukkah, and my parents got into a huge fight about whether I should go to school. My father stormed out to go to temple services, and when he got home my mother told him she wanted a divorce.” He gave her a weak smile. “Worst Hanukkah ever.”

“Oh Asher.” Her freckles popped against her pale face. “I’m so sorry. That’s horrible. You must have been devastated.”

He nodded. “She left him and took me with her. We moved to New York and have been here ever since. Her family is Jewish, but not very observant, even of the High Holidays. Considering my father is Conservative verging on Orthodox, I don’t know why—or how—they ever got married in the first place.”

She squeezed his hand. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

This was the hard part. “I—uh.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I went through the motions for a lot of months after that, but I don’t really remember it. When I think back, it just feels dark. Now I know I must have been depressed, but my mother was struggling so much herself that she wasn’t able to help me.”

Her lips pressed together, and her eyes shined. “Did someone help you?”

He nodded. “A teacher. She kept at me until I started talking. Then she got me to talk to the school psychologist, who called my mother. My mother and I both ended up in therapy, thank goodness.”

“You were a child.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “She was an adult. She should have been able to help you.” He loved her for the fierce protectiveness he heard in her voice.

“Yes,” he said simply. “She knows that. But she couldn’t.”

“Then your father should have helped you.”

She was squeezing his hand so hard, he squeezed back. “Yes, he should have. But he wasn’t there, and frankly, I don’t know how much help he would have been. Emotions aren’t really his thing.”

“Damn it, Asher.” Two tears ran down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you write back.

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