Not Perfect(12)

“You are going,” Tabitha said, thinking ahead to what this would mean. Getting the car from the good spot on Pine Street (they used to park in a garage, paying almost $300 a month, but she stopped that weeks ago and got the city parking permit that cost less than $50 a year). She would lose the spot and spend many minutes, possibly an hour, looking for a spot at the exact moment everyone was coming home from work for the night. Levi would beg to be dropped off, she would eventually give in, and by the time she got back the kids would be starving. Shoot—dinner! She hadn’t even thought about dinner. And Fern. She couldn’t take Fern. She could, almost, she was so much better. In another lifetime she would bundle her up and they would go together. She would read to her, and they would stop at Square on Square on the way home for the best wonton soup, or Dim Sum Garden for the best dumplings—whatever Fern felt she was up to. But the world didn’t work that way anymore. At least their world didn’t.

She heard Levi close his bedroom door hard, not quite a slam, but a deliberate close. She looked at Fern on the couch. She was so happy, so much better, watching an old Disney Channel DVD. Making her go out right now was not the right thing. But really, she should have called this morning. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t even thought of it. She googled the number for the synagogue and called, but there was no answer. She had the rabbi’s cell phone for emergencies. Was this an emergency? She found the contact information on her phone and called.

“Hello?” the rabbi said in his warm voice. Maybe talking to him would be a good thing. Maybe she shouldn’t dread it so much.

“Rabbi Rosen, it’s Tabitha Brewer,” she said quickly. “We were set to come see you today, actually we are supposed to be there in about twenty minutes, but Fern just got sick, as we were walking out the door. And now I just don’t think we’re going to make it.”

She sensed Fern’s head turning in her direction. She should have gone into the kitchen to make this call. And, really, lying to a rabbi? She didn’t believe she’d be struck down exactly, but she knew it wasn’t the best practice, and certainly, at the very least, it was a bad example.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” the rabbi said kindly. “Please give Fern my best. I hope she feels much better soon. Will the same time next Monday work?”

“Yes,” Tabitha said, not even checking her calendar. “That would be great. Thank you.”

When she hung up, she wrote the appointment on five Post-it notes and placed them around the apartment, then she set a reminder on her phone for the morning of the appointment. There was no getting out of it now. It was the first big meeting with the rabbi to talk about Levi’s upcoming bar mitzvah—barely months away at this point. He had been meeting with the cantor, but now they were supposed to talk about his speech, what was that called? Haftorah? D’var Torah? They sounded the same to her. And they were also going to talk about his community service project. She was happy to have him do this, it was always their plan, but without Stuart here, she felt like a fraud. She wasn’t raised Jewish, even though her father was technically Jewish. Her mother was a Quaker and, despite the alleged gentleness of that religion, it definitely had the strongest arm and won out in her house growing up. Also, she hadn’t told the rabbi, or anyone for that matter, that Stuart was gone. The rabbi expected Stuart to be there. Please plan to have both parents attend, the letter said. Well, at least she had another week to come up with an explanation for his absence. Maybe she’d call ahead a few days before and let them know. She’d probably use the same he’s-away-on-a-business-trip excuse.

She avoided Fern’s questioning looks as she went to Levi’s room and knocked lightly.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” she called through the door, trying to sound as unmad as she could.

“I’m not going,” he said.

“Can I please come in?” she tried again.

No answer. She took that as a yes, and pushed the door open. Levi was sitting at his desk reading a book. She looked closer and saw it was Lord of the Flies. His room was neat. For some reason that made her feel bad for him. She took a deep breath.

“Hey, I called the rabbi and moved it to next week,” she said. “But we have to go then, okay? No more excuses.”

Levi didn’t say anything.

“Okay?”

“Will Dad be back by next week?” he asked.

“No,” Tabitha said, then, “I don’t think so. This time the business has been more intense than usual, you know that. I explained it to you. We’ll get started, and Dad should be back well before the big day.” At least I hope so, she thought, but didn’t add. She wasn’t even sure she did hope that. She wasn’t sure what she hoped.

“I don’t want to do it without Dad here,” Levi said, still looking at his book.

Tabitha felt so mad she didn’t know what to do. Not at Levi, at Stuart. When Levi pretended not to care, it was so much easier.

“Tell you what,” Tabitha said. “Let’s go meet with the rabbi next week, with or without Dad, and we’ll try to figure things out. We have to talk about your speech and your service project.”

“I already know what I want to do,” Levi said, perking up a little.

“You do?” Tabitha never had a bat mitzvah, and she wasn’t sure what the parameters were in choosing this sort of thing.