Ezra 5.
I seem to have moved into my office at Exodus Freight. It wasn’t intentional so much as self-preservation. If I went to the mishpocheh compound I would have been subjected to everyone’s knowing smirks and teasing. My skin has thickened over the years, in a family like ours, its sink or swim. Unless you’re Ruthie. Everyone else is fair game.
And if I spent too much time at my own home, my mind wandered, as well as my hand, and I was consumed with thoughts of short, dark, and beautiful impaled on my cock as we descended twenty some floors.
So, I stayed later and later at work over the last week or so and spent the last two nights sleeping on my office couch. What was more concerning is that Tovah was aware of all of this and yet, she remained unusually silent on the topic of my love life and current living arrangements. It’s always a tossup between my own mother and Tovah, who’s scarier.
Speak of the…mom. I sigh, staring at my mom’s smiling face on the screen of my phone. I’ve avoided her this long; I should have known the reprieve wouldn’t last much longer. Sitting back in my office chair, I accept the call and place it on speaker.
“Mom, how—”
“You will be at the compound this evening by 6 o’clock for mishpocheh dinner or I will tell everyone the real reason you couldn’t attend Moshe’s Bar Mitzvah.” My heart stops and my stomach drops at her threat.
“Mama…” I whisper hoarsely, “I…I…you know I had my appendix removed.”
“Something was removed but it wasn’t your appendix, nor was it in your stomach.” She sing-songs as if she isn’t threatening to implode my world. I cannot imagine what Tovah would do with this information. Billboards, sky writing, online ads, all bearing my greatest moment of shame and pubescent curiosity.
I swallow hard, close my eyes and admit defeat. “I will be there.”
“That’s a good boy. Love you.” I stare at the darkened screen of my cell phone for several long minutes after she’s hung up. I can’t believe she would do that to me. So, I haven’t been around lately, and I’ve dodged a call or six from her and my dad, and I missed a meeting with my Avinu…alright, I understand why she pulled out the big guns. Still, it hurts that my own mother would threaten to out me like that. She’s been in the Kosher Nostra too long.
I decide I better head home first, shower, refresh and fortify before seeing my family. Under the spray of my home shower, the hot water beating down my sore and tired muscles, I give in to the urge to remember Dottie. The way she sounded, her scent, how she felt wrapped around me…my hand fists my cock as I replay every thrust and moan and spasm and the sound of my name on her perfect lips until I cover the wall of my shower with my release.
It's empty. Hollow. The same as it has been since she walked out of the elevator without any way to contact her. It should have been enough. It shouldn’t be plaguing me a week later. I shouldn’t be thinking of her. And yet…I find little else of interest.
Fuck.
You know how irritating it is when someone thinks they know you better than you know yourself? Like you don’t know your own mind, or what you need? You know how it’s infinitely more irritating when they’re fucking right?
I pull through the gates of the mishpocheh compound and instantly feel the tension in my shoulders lessen. My family, as crazy and fucking frustrating as they can be, is exactly what I need. And mom knew it.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to forget she threatened her favorite son with public humiliation.
In the spacious foyer of the main living area, Devorah greets me with a broad smile and welcoming arms. I hug the older woman who’s worked for the family for decades and sigh internally when even more knotted muscles relax. “I know, dear boy. I know.” She pats my back, then cups my cheeks when she pulls back to meet my eyes. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” I nod dumbly as her thumbs ghost my cheekbones. “Your mom and dad missed you.”
“Of course they did.” I force some bravado into my voice, not wanting her to know how shaken I’ve been the last week. “I’m their favorite.”
I hear mom’s laughter before she rounds the corner from the sitting room where I assume everyone is gathered waiting to eat. “Rachel is our favorite.” I hug mama tight, rocking us back and forth with a chuckle at her familiar retort. Rachel is our sister, born after my parents arrived in America after fleeing Armenia in the early nineties. She passed before her first birthday, and yet Zeppo and I have always behaved as if she was right there with us. She isn’t spoken about in hushed whispers or tearful laments; she isn’t a secret. My parents have three children, always.
Mom smells like my childhood, and it’s more comforting than I’ll ever admit. For fuck’s sake. I haven’t been to war; I just fucked a woman I can’t seem to forget. Once.
“Yes, but I’m your favorite son.”
Mom hems and haws, leaning back to pat my face just like Devorah did moments ago. “Zeppo is engaged, and grandbabies are on the horizon…I’m afraid you have some competition.”
“Cut me some slack.” I say as I step to her side, looping my arm through hers and leading her across the iron tile and into the sitting room. “Zeppo’s woman was handed to him on a gelt platter. Some of us have to venture outside of our family compound to find our women.”
She grins up at me as we enter the room filled with our family. Everyone is here, including my brother and his fiancé. “Don’t hate the player.”
Tovah, Sophie, Seril, and her mom Suzie automatically respond, “Hate the game!”
“Ugh.” Tevye groans, looking tired as fuck. His son Arlo fidgets and whines in his arms. “You need new material. I’m fucking sick of hearing about the player and the game .”
His twin snaps her eyes to mine with a snarl, then slowly drifts to her brother. Tovah sits back on the couch, crossing one long leg over the other, “Typical male, wanting to improve and tinker with something that ain’t broke.”
“Lay off it, Tovahbub.” I tell her, taking a seat on the other side of the coffee table, next to my mom and Aunt Gertie, the harbinger of evil being mother to Tovah and Tevye.
“Tev, if you aren’t going to deal with Arlo, give him here. I’ll check his urine.” Aunt Gertie stands, reaching out for her grandson. Arlo stretches his arms out to his grandmother, but Tevye grips him tighter to his chest, and stands abruptly, causing the toddler to start crying in earnest.
“I’ve got him.” He stomps out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. Mom wraps an arm around Aunt Gertie’s trembling shoulders, guiding her back down to her seat on the couch.
“I don’t know what to do for him. For either of them.”
Aunt Esther snaps her fingers from the other side of the room and approaches quickly while typing on her phone. “I forgot to send it to you earlier, there is a support group at Atrium Health for parents and caregivers of children with chronic illness. I’m texting it to you now. Check it out yourself, then I thought you could give the info to Tevye. Maybe speaking to others in similar situations might help him. Let him see he’s not alone.”
The two women hug, doing that female thing where they rock back and forth crying and mumbling.
“It can’t fucking hurt. He’s gonna get a foot up his ass if he doesn’t settle the fuck down.”
“Your compassion and capacity for love knows no bounds, Tovah.” Zeppo deadpans from behind Ruthie, his arms around her middle as she leans into him, a Mona Lisa smile on her rosy cheeked face. They probably did the sex before arriving for family dinner.
Speaking of…
“Ruth. What are those marks around your ankles?” Tovah grins maliciously as she drops both heeled feet to the floor and kneels closer to inspect Ruthie’s bare legs. Ruthie gasps, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of red, and bends nearly in half to see what Tovah has brought to everyone’s attention. “Are those…handprints?”
“I-bu-we-he-ugh.” Incomprehensible noises spill from the poor girl’s mouth as Zeppo smirks, looking proud of himself.
“Kinky.” Tovah winks at Ruthie, her expression hardening when her gaze shifts to Zeppo. “Use some Arnica cream, you fucking amateur. Bruise my girl again and I’ll show you what it’s like to bear the marks of a good time.”
Ruthie’s shyness disappears in an instant and she steps up to Tovah. “You will do no such thing. I like the physical reminder that I’m his.”
“I don’t want to know this!” Moshe and his dad whine together.
Zilv just shrugs and leans to the side to see into the hall. “Is dinner ready yet?”
“Yeah. I’m starving!” Seril seconds him, raising her hand in the air for a high-five. Zilv slaps her palm with gusto, earning a glare from Moshe.
“How can you be hungry? You’re fucking enormous. There shouldn’t be any room for food until you shit out that kid.”
“TOVAH!” The entire room choruses.
Devorah calls us for dinner a few minutes later. Walking into the dining room, Yak stops me with a hand to my chest. “War room after dinner.” Shit. That can’t be good.
“What’s happened? Blowback from—” He cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“No. It’s about your latest conquest.” I growl at his words, not liking him referring to Dottie that way. His lips twitch, but he flattens them before a real smile can emerge. “I’ve already notified Avinu and the others.” I nod in understanding. What could he have found about the woman from the elevator that requires the entire Kosher Nostra?
I sit down with my family, but I pay no mind to the conversations around me, nor the food I robotically place in my mouth. Who is Dottie? What is she involved in that would worry Yak?
“Back off, Moshe!” Our Sarai Ima growls at her husband. Seril smacks her hand on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. “I can cut my own meat. And I’ll cut yours if you don’t stop smothering me!”
“I’m smothering you?” Moshe asks quietly and I’d feel bad about eavesdropping on what should be a private conversation between husband and wife, but I’m as nibby as the rest of them and I know for a fact this is not the first time Seril’s told Moshe to cool it.
Seril lays her fork and knife on the table with a heavy sigh. Her chin drops to her lap for a moment, before her shoulders rise and fall, and she lifts her head to meet Moshe’s boyish crestfallen expression. With a hand on his, she explains in a calm, patient voice. “I love you, Moshe.”
“I love you too. Both of you. So much.”
“I know. And I’m a lucky woman to call you mine. But…you are driving me fucking nuts!” She shakes her head, taking a deep breath.
“Moshe.” Ruthie’s soft voice calls to him from the other end of the table. “I love you.” Moshe’s face lights up and I can’t even make fun of him for it. Because it’s sweet. Zeppo and I share a brief look over the table, and I know we are both thinking of our sister Rachel. “You’re overcompensating. Do you trust your wife?”
“With my fucking life.”
“Then let her tell you when she needs help with the life you two created.”
Loud sobs have every face turning back to Seril, who has tears streaming down her face, her body moving side to side like a turtle on its back. “I can’t…get up…to hug you…but thank you…Ruthie…love you…he’s an ass…but my ass…and it’s just too much…” Moshe tips his chair back, lifts his blubbering wife into his arms and strides confidently out of the room.
“I am never having kids! What the fuck was that?” Tovah looks at her brother, who rejoined us when we sat down to eat, and points to a much calmer Arlo in his highchair, “Be thankful you didn’t have to carry that semen-demon.”
Seril’s mother snorts loudly, then she leans in to whisper to her boyfriend Hank, who is also Seril’s driver, “I say outrageous and offensive shit all the time, I have a TBI,” she lifts her chin in Tovah’s direction, “What’s her excuse?”
“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who went to that séance when you were pregnant with them. You invited the devil into your womb.” Uncle Steven points a finger at Aunt Gertie, who is gaping like a fish at her husband’s accusation.
Mom starts laughing followed by Aunt Sarah and Aunt Esther. “I forgot about that! You did!”
“You made us stop at that steakhouse because you were craving a rare steak!”
“I had low iron!”
“Because you were carrying blood sucking demons!”
“Hey!” Tevye yells, obviously taking exception with being called a demon. The rest of us are laughing our asses off at the spectacle dinner has become. He stares at his twin and throws his hands up in exasperation.
“What?” Tovah says, spearing a potato with her fork and bringing it to her mouth. “I’ve been called worse and far less accurate.”