LITMIR.BIZ

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abode. Crystal, Decker decided, must be symbolic of something. Frieda Levine, like Rina’s ex-mother-in-law, Sora Lazarus, seemed to be inordinately fond of the glistening glass. The dining area was lit with a mammoth-sized chandelier—a four-tiered job with scores of icy stalactites dangling from the frame. It completely overpowered the room.

      And as had been the case at Sora Lazarus’s, the adjoining living room–dining room had taken on the appearance of a mess hall. One long rectangular table and four folding card tables crammed every available inch of floor space. There were enough chairs to fill an auditorium.

      Rina took Decker’s hand and explained that Frieda had invited a few families—ones that hadn’t lived in the community for so long.

      “Nice that the woman is hospitable,” Decker said.

      “Peter …”

      “Okay, okay.”

      “How was your walk over here?” Rina asked.

      “You know, you might have walked with me,” Decker said. “Especially after all that happened.”

      “You’re not going to like this, Peter, but I felt Frieda Levine needed me more than you did.”

      Decker stared at her. “Feel the need to mother her, do you?”

      “I think that’s a rhetorical question,” Rina said. “I’m not going to answer it.”

      Decker jammed his hands in his pockets. “Did you happen to notice who I was walking with?”

      “Yes, I did,” Rina said. “So did Mrs. Levine.”

      “Did she say anything to you?”

      “No, but she did have this real … wistful look in her eyes.”

      “Wistful?”

      “Maybe that’s not the right word.”

      Decker bounced on his feet, unable to pace because they were in public and there was no room to pace even if he wanted to. He said, “Is there assigned seating at this shindig?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Do I have to sit separate from you?”

      “I don’t know that, either.”

      “Can I put my elbows on the table?”

      “Peter—”

      “Forget it.” Decker dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Anywhere I can get a light?”

      “You need to smoke?”

      “Very badly.”

      Rina sighed. “Give it to me. There’s probably a fire under one of the kitchen burners.”

      Decker handed her a cigarette. A moment later, she came back with his lighted smoke and suggested they take it outside. Decker said that was a wonderful idea. On the front lawn, they met Jonathan puffing away.

      He said, “Great minds think alike.”

      Rina took Decker’s arm and said, “Would you two like a formal introduction?”

      “Not necessary,” Jonathan said.

      “Jonathan grew up with Yitzchak,” Rina said.

      “He’s had his history lesson for the day,” Jonathan said.

      “Excuse me,” Rina said.

      Jonathan laughed. “Sorry. I’m in a bad mood. I hate these things. Every year I swear I’m going to beg off coming, and every year my mother pleads and I give in. Mama can be very persistent. It’s religion to her. The family’s got to be together on holidays!”

      Rina felt Decker’s arm tense.

      Jonathan said, “I’ve got to marry a woman who doesn’t get along with my family and use her as an excuse.” He said to Decker, “How ’bout yourself, pal? You look really excited.”

      “I’m thrilled.”

      “Can read it all over your face.”

      Decker laughed.

      Rina said, “I think her hospitality is nice.”

      “You’re nice.” Jonathan said to Decker, “Rina says I’m too sarcastic. Do you think I’m sarcastic?”

      “Don’t get me involved in your squabbles,” Decker said.

      “You’re way too sarcastic, Yonie,” Rina said. “That’s why you’re having trouble finding a nice woman.”

      “His sarcasm doesn’t put you off,” Jonathan said, pointing to Decker.

      “Akiva is not sarcastic,” Rina said.

      “I’m not?” Decker said.

      “No,” Rina said. “You’re cynical. There’s a big difference.”

      The men laughed. Decker crushed out his cigarette, feeling a bit more relaxed. Jonathan followed suit a moment later.

      “What the heck,” he said. “It’s a bad vice.”

      A woman stormed out of the house. She was short and thin and had she been in a better mood might have been considered attractive, but her expression was chiseled out of anger, her blue eyes flashing sparks like a hot wire in water. She was wearing a navy knit suit, the skirt falling three inches below her knee, and a pair of matching leather boots. Covering her hair was a blue headdress pinned with a rhinestone brooch. She marched down the walkway, tented her eyes with her hands, then scanned the sidewalk.

      “Lose something, Breina?” Jonathan said.

      The woman turned to him and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Have you seen Noam?”

      “Which one is he?” Jonathan said. “I get them all mixed up.”

      “That’s not funny, Yonasan,” Breina said.

      “No, I haven’t seen him,” Jonathan said.

      Breina took one more look down the block. Muttering to herself, she stomped back into the house.

      “Ezra’s wife,” Jonathan explained. “She adores me.”

      “I can tell,” Decker said.

      Jonathan said, “Noam’s the second of five. A weird kid. Always smiling but he never looks happy.”

      Rina said, “Jonathan …”

      “It’s true,” Jonathan said. “She blames it on me. Anything remotely bad is blamed on my secular influence. God, I wish I had the power they attribute to me.”

      He paused a moment.

      “I feel bad for Noam. He’s a lost soul.”

      “You’re projecting,” Rina said.

      Jonathan said, “I’m a lost soul. I admit it freely.”

      “Aren’t we all?” Decker said.

      “Yeah, but it takes on greater significance in this community,” Jonathan said. “The object in Boro Park is to conform.”

      “That’s not true,” Rina said.

      “It is true,” Jonathan said. “Noam’s an obnoxious kid, but I feel for him. You know, about six months ago, he came to me to mooch twenty bucks. I was a little put out, but I gave him the money anyway. Before he left, he started asking me some pretty soul-searching questions.”

      “What kind of questions?” Rina asked.

      “Why did I leave Boro Park? Why did I become a Conservative rabbi? Did that mean that I really didn’t believe in God?” Jonathan sighed. “According to the Orthodox, I really don’t believe in the same God as they do because I think oral law is not as holy as the written

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