Milk Fed - Melissa Broder Page 0,40

sadly, “Now Israel will only be this tiny strip.”

Miriam and her family made no mention of settlements, nothing political. They spoke only of Adiv, the Negev, the blessing of the nation’s existence. The way they spoke of this blessing, the land of milk and honey, you would not have known that people had been exiled from their homes. Their joy made me wish I could block that out too. Could you will the darkness away? Could you banish it and say, No, this does not exist for me? Was it okay to dissolve in the beauty of fantasy if you found yourself able?

I opened my mouth to ask them what they thought of the other side of things. But I heard my grandmother’s voice inside me say, Rachel, you actually know nothing.

Miriam was right. I had gotten drunk, too drunk to drive home. We sat at the table for a long time after dinner and ate figs, nuts, and the cinnamon ring I’d brought. I wanted to hold Miriam’s hand under the table. I wanted to thank her for bringing me here, the most comfortable family dinner I could ever remember. The word hospitality ran through my mind, and I saw now what it meant and what an art it was. I never liked having people in my space, but Miriam’s family made it seem effortless. It was their joy to welcome me. They refilled my glass with wine. They complimented my cinnamon ring, which was very sweet and dry.

I heard my grandmother’s voice again.

I can never resist a dry piece of cake, she said.

You’d be so glad I’m here, I thought, and took a last bite.

CHAPTER 36

At 10, Mr. Schwebel said, “Time for bed.” Noah had fallen asleep at the table, and Ezra was playing beneath it. Ayala had already been excused to go upstairs so she could get some sleep for synagogue in the morning. I wondered why she was going to go to synagogue while Miriam, Mrs. Schwebel, and I would be staying home. When everyone had gotten up from the table, I asked Miriam what the deal was with that.

“My mom and I are lazy.” Miriam laughed. “No, really, I don’t know why we do it like that. Sometimes I go. But I think Ayala likes going better than me because, well, she likes looking down off the balcony to the ground where the boys are praying to look for a future husband.”

“You don’t do that?”

“I’m not really that interested.”

I wanted to press her, but I didn’t. Why wasn’t she interested? Did she not like boys? Did she know why she didn’t like boys? Did she like girls? Was she going to have an arranged marriage? Did they still do arranged marriages? Had any of this been discussed with her family? I tried to imagine what it must be like, trying to come out to a family like this. Maybe it was no harder than coming out to my own mother. The Schwebels would have religious misgivings, but I had a feeling that they would still accept Miriam for who she was.

Only once, in college, had I ever told my mother anything about my being into girls. It was right after I started dating Cait. My mother called me to harass me about some guy on campus named Ben Buber who she wanted to set me up with, the son of a woman she’d met at a bat mitzvah. She hated when I was single. If I wasn’t in a relationship, she feared that I wasn’t doing enough to find someone, that I was lazing in a fool’s paradise, imagining a man would just fall from the clouds with the next Wisconsin snow. She believed it was up to her to bring me back to reality, to procure me a man via a sustained hunting-and-gathering effort at any social events she attended.

I told her I couldn’t go out with Ben Buber.

“It won’t kill you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“I think I at least deserve to know why.”

I was silent.

“Are you seeing someone else?” she asked.

“I am, actually,” I said. “And it’s a woman.”

I thought that my mother would be surprised at first. I imagined her reaction would be puzzled, maybe confused, but definitely not rageful or sad. She wasn’t exactly radical, but she voted Democrat, watched Rachel Maddow nightly. She gave money to Planned Parenthood. In spite of her obsession with me finding a mate, she had always been concerned with women’s rights. I was not prepared at