Milk Fed - Melissa Broder Page 0,52

or hardship. But as I watched her grow calmer with every bite, I realized it was not delight alone that compelled her to eat that way.

“So, boys and girls are not allowed to touch amongst the Orthodox, even modern Orthodox, is that right?” I asked her.

“That’s right,” she said.

“So kissing is definitely off-limits, but also hugging or holding hands.”

“Yeah, I definitely don’t hold hands with boys.”

“What about girls? Are girls allowed to hug?”

“Girls are allowed to hug.”

“And hold hands?”

“Of course, girl friends could hold hands if they want to.”

She narrowed her eyes, put down her chopsticks.

“I was just curious,” I said. “You don’t mind if I ask you these questions, do you?”

“No,” she said, looking me in the eye.

I wanted to know if girls could kiss each other. But I didn’t say anything. Instead, I took a bite of chicken. It felt tough in my mouth, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to swallow it. I chewed and chewed. I chewed it past the point where chewing it still seemed possible. Then I chewed it some more.

CHAPTER 45

“I might like Bette better than Audrey,” I whispered to Miriam in the glow of the theater.

We were about fifteen minutes into All About Eve. She was sucking on a Twizzler from the big bag we were sharing. We also had a bag of Peanut M&M’s and had parked them both in the cup holder between us.

“I’ve thought about this,” she whispered, Twizzler dangling from the side of her mouth. “Bette is tough on the inside and the outside, right? Which is fine. Great. Audrey seems a little fragile on the outside, but inside you know she’s tough. Like a Peanut M&M. She’s more special.”

“But isn’t a Peanut M&M supposed to melt in your mouth, not in your hand, or whatever?”

“Everyone knows that isn’t true.”

“Oh, right.”

We continued to snack and watch the movie. Then I whispered another question.

“What about holding hands in a movie theater?”

“What?” she whispered back.

“What about holding hands in a movie theater? Can girls hold hands in a movie theater?”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. I wondered if she was just going to ignore the question. Now I felt embarrassed for asking it—like I had crossed some kind of line. I was pretending to be innocent and naïve, not knowing what Orthodox girls could do. But people didn’t hold hands at the movies without romance. Everybody knew that.

Etz chayim hi lamachazikim ba, vetomecheha me’ushar, I thought to myself.

On-screen, a black-and-white Anne Baxter sat on a staircase with a black-and-white Marilyn Monroe and purred to a black-and-white Gary Merrill, “If there’s nothing else, there’s applause. I’ve listened backstage to people applaud. It’s like… like waves of love coming over the footlights and wrapping you up.”

Suddenly, Miriam turned to me. I felt her head move, her breath close to my ear.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Girls can hold hands in a movie theater.”

I stared straight ahead at the screen and did not dare stir. I tried to look at her out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed that maybe she was smiling in profile. I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t know what to do. Should I make a move like dudes had made moves on me—that whole arm-stretching thing? Should I pretend to be going for an M&M, then just drop my hand on hers?

Counting backward from ten, I edged my hand toward the M&M’s. But when I hit three, I botched my mission. Instead of circumventing the bag and rerouting to my true target, I panicked and ended up with my hand in the candy. I took a few and shoved them into my mouth. Then I returned my hand to base camp on my lap.

“Why?” whispered Miriam suddenly.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

I looked at her face in the glow of the movie screen, swaths of light and shadow flickering on and off her pale skin. She was like a moon cycling through all its phases in rapid-fire.

“Oh,” I said. “Because—I wanted to hold yours.”

And just like that I took her hand.

It was so exciting to hold her hand. With this simple gesture, I felt nearer to her than anyone. Her hand in my hand was a deeper intimacy than any sexual act, all my past performances of pleasure. I felt brave, princely, thrilled in my bones, electric in my toes. I was holding her hand and she was letting me. I felt lucky; also, protective of her in the darkness of the