The Middlesteins: A Novel(59)
“She was completely disrespectful to the cantor,” he said. He stood up straight. He was taller than Edie. He was her husband. He was allowed to make decisions.
“What did you do?” she said.
“I hit her,” he said. “A slap.”
Edie gave him a dark look—the pits of hell were in those eyes sometimes—and then burst out with her hands, her own lightning springing forth, slapping him on his shoulder, on his neck, on the side of his head, as far up as she could reach. “You don’t hit my child,” she said. Everywhere Richard covered himself, she struck somewhere else. “You are not allowed to hit her, do you understand me?” Her slaps stung him. Her lips shone with spit. “You don’t go near my child.” She hit him once more, in the face. “I have a deadline tomorrow and a terrified child tonight. It is like you don’t want this house to function, Richard.” She pushed a hand into his chest. “You are a ridiculous human being.”
She shook her head and then ran up the stairs to her daughter’s room, where, after a minute, the crying abruptly ceased.
Middlestein looked at Emily, smashed up against the window, dark, fearful eyes. She knew she had screwed up.
“If I were your father, I’d smack you so hard your head would spin,” he said.
Emily’s eyes widened, but she did not cry.
“But I’m not. I am your grandfather. So all I can tell you is that was just terrible, terrible behavior tonight. You, too, Josh. Just because you’re the lesser of two evils, that doesn’t mean you weren’t being bad.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Josh.
“It’s not your fault we didn’t want to come,” said Emily, remorseful at last. “I had a birthday party tonight. We both did. This kid at school.”
“It was at a laser park,” said Josh.
“I don’t even know what a laser park is,” said Middlestein.
“It’s pretty cool,” said Josh.
“I’m tired of going to the synagogue,” said Emily. “We have Hebrew school all the time this year.”
Middlestein let out an enormous sigh. “Emily, there are so many things we don’t want to do in this life of ours. You have zero concept of this. You will someday miss this moment when the worst thing about your day is contemplating God’s word for an hour or two.”
“Doubtful,” mumbled Emily, but he heard her, and his hand snapped out, and she jerked her neck back, and he nailed nothingness, just the air, the air between him and his granddaughter. He held his hand there for a second, and then patted her shoulder, as if that’s what he had intended to do all along.
“You’ll see,” he said. “You’ll see someday.”
It was a silent car ride home; the children wisely kept their phones in their pockets, so it was just the sound of their breathing, the car engine, a light-rock station playing barely above mute. In their driveway they got out of the car before he had even turned off the engine and darted inside. Why were these children always running away from him? Didn’t they know that he loved them with all his heart?
His son, Benny, walked outside, his arms tight across his chest, Rachelle only briefly poking her head out the door to wave hello, and then retreating inside, presumably to quiz the children on the night.
“How was it?” said Benny.
“The rabbi went on for way too long about Israel tonight,” said Middlestein. “It’s not that I don’t agree, but he’s like a broken record sometimes.”
“The kids were okay?” said Benny.
“The kids were fine,” said Richard. “I don’t think they wanted to be there, but they’re kids. They like hanging out with their friends.”
“They kicked up a storm,” said Benny. “There was this party—”
“I heard all about it,” said Middlestein. “A laser park. Whatever that is.”
“It’s where they play with lasers,” said Benny. He relaxed his arms. Middlestein had offered up just enough information to prove that he had bonded with the children. “There’s one over in Wheeling. It’s been around for a while.”
Middlestein shrugged. “Whatever makes them happy, right?”
“Right. Well, they didn’t get to go, so they weren’t that happy about it.”
“They’re good kids,” said Middlestein.
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