6. 22 Years Ago
Chapter six
By the time I was nine, Matt and I were friends. Summer friends, but good friends nonetheless. I only realized exactly how good of a friend he was one Sunday when he got a glimpse of how things were for me back home.
Sunday mornings were important at Sound Hollow because of religious services.
After breakfast, the Jewish kids went to the Lodge on the girls’ side for services, the Protestant kids went to the Lodge on the boys’ side, and the Catholic kids got on a yellow school bus bound for some nearby church.
Kids who believed in any other God (or none at all) gathered on the rec field to play soccer or have relay races.
Campers and staff of all faiths would congregate together again at lunchtime before heading down to the beach for the rest of the afternoon—unless it was Visitors Sunday, which (to my great relief) only happened twice a summer.
The practices of Sound Hollow on Sunday mornings would’ve gotten the whole place canceled today but weren’t given a second thought back then, even though they caused some confusion for kids like me who came from families of mixed faith.
My mom was Jewish and my dad was Catholic, one of many attributes about them that were at odds.
I didn’t attend Hebrew school in preparation for a bat-mitzvah like the other Jewish girls I knew, and my family traded eight nights of Hanukkah for a fake Christmas tree in the living room of our apartment every December.
Still, my mother always said that in the Jewish faith children take on the religion of their mother.
It was with this idea in mind that my mom went ahead and signed me up for Jewish services at camp.
I didn’t mind, though. Jewish services were fun.
Sound Hollow brought in Rabbi Avraham, who told us to call him the “Rockin’ Rabbi.
” He played his acoustic guitar and clapped and whistled for the ever-expanding group of would-be Jews who knew that hanging out with the Rockin’ Rabbi was way cooler than going off camp to a stuffy church.
Songs like “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” and “Moishe Mouse” (a knock-off of the Mickey Mouse theme song that touted the benefits of being Kosher) created such a jovial environment that I genuinely looked forward to Sunday services.
Also, the Rockin’ Rabbi talked about Hashem, which meant God.
Even though I didn’t understand all of what he was saying, the essence was generally that God was watching me and God loved me.
Which was kind of nice.
Also, because the activity was co-ed, it offered an opportunity for me to hang out with Matt, who shared a similarly awkward religious upbringing with a Jewish mother and Lutheran dad.
One Sunday morning during Matt’s second summer at camp, we were sitting together singing “Sh’ma Yisrael, adonai eloheinu, adonai echad,” when our jovial camp director, Mr. Pat, popped in through the side door of the Lodge.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Rabbi, sir,” said Mr. Pat, his round, Irish cheeks blushing, “but I’m looking for Taylor Roberts.”
Matt looked at me quizzically. I shrugged, hoping I hadn’t done anything to get in trouble, and followed Mr. Pat out into the warmth of the late morning sun.
“Sorry to pull you out of there, kiddo,” Mr. Pat began. “But you have a phone call.” I walked alongside him toward the camp office.
“Is that allowed?” I wondered.
“Well, typically no. But your mom’s on the phone, and it seemed pretty important that she speak to you.” He winked at me. “So we’re making a special exception.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.
In the office, I was offered a rusty folding chair next to the secretary, who handed me the receiver of an old beige rotary phone.
“Hello?”
“Hiya, sweetie,” said the voice, familiar as the smell of hot sesame bagels wafting up through my bedroom window on a Sunday morning at home. It filled me with an unexpected longing.
“Hi, Mom.”
“How are you?”
“Good. I was just at Sunday services. How are you?”
“I’m okay, honey. It’s so nice to hear your voice.”
I chewed on a ragged cuticle. “Yours too. What’s up? Is everything all right?”
“Of course, love. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to call you to let you know there’s been a little change of plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how you were supposed to stay at camp for the rest of the summer?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but we’re going to have to bring you home next week.”
“Why? There’s still three weeks of summer left.” The edge of my fingernail started to bleed. My mind swirled. They miss me. She needs me there because they want us to spend family time together.
“Honey, Daddy...”
Fear bubbled in my esophagus. “What happened? Is Daddy hurt?”
“Nothing like that. It’s kind of hard to explain.” She sighed.
“Can you please try?” My voice trembled, though I wasn’t sure why.
My mom inhaled deeply. “Daddy lost his job, honey.”
My stomach tied itself up like a garlic knot in the oven at Al Dente’s Pizzeria. “Oh.”
“We don’t have the money to pay for the rest of the summer.”
“Did they—um,” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “fire him?”
“It’s not important, honey.”
“They did, right?” I knew I was right, and I hated it.
Mom didn’t respond. The secretary looked away, shuffling papers.
“That’s the second time this year,” I said, trying not to raise my voice.
“Oh, baby. My sweet girl.” She paused for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s out at the pool hall. He needed a little time on his own.”
“Did he yell at you? Did you guys have a fight?”
I could hear my mother stifle a sob.
“You know it’s not your fault, Mom. It’ll be okay.”
“I know,” she replied, sniffling. “I’m sorry, Taylor. This wasn’t the plan.” Her voice trembled.
“Hey,” I said. “What if we borrow the money from Aunt Lucy? Like we did the last time?”
“Sweetheart, Aunt Lucy can’t afford to help us with bills and rent and pay for camp. It’s too much. And we don’t have anything extra in savings.”
A mix of emotions flooded my mind. He’s taking away my summer! I don’t want to go home! Why can’t he just be normal?
“It’s okay, Mom,” I finally replied. “We’ll figure it out.” I blinked back tears and looked up at the ceiling, willing them not to spill onto my cheeks.
It had been decided, Mom continued, that I would take the bus home from camp the following day.
“One day? That’s it? I thought you said next week,” I asked.
“Well, technically, tomorrow is the start of the next week of camp,” Mom explained.
Despite my objections, the arrangements had been made.
After the phone call, Mr. Pat quietly walked me back to the Lodge. His large hand gently rested on my shoulder. I returned to my seat on the bench next to Matt, a chorus of “One is Hashem” gleefully chanting around me.
Where is Hashem now? I wondered. Can’t he fix this?
Matt searched my face. The idea of leaving Sound Hollow, the one place where I could forget how unstable things always seemed to be at home, cut through my chest like an arrow hitting a bullseye in the archery pit. The tears rushed back to my eyes and fell silently into my lap.
“You okay?” he mouthed, angling his knees to face me.
I shook my head no.
“C’mon,” he stood up and took my hand. The Rockin’ Rabbi didn’t stop us as Matt led me to the back of the Lodge, away from the singing, in the area where the melamine dishes were stacked up on high shelves for mealtime.
“What happened?” he asked.
“My dad,” I responded, my lower lip trembling.
He waited for me to continue.
“I have to go home tomorrow.” I wiped an angry tear off my cheek.
“Why? You’re supposed to stay for the rest of the summer!”
“I know. He lost his job.”
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t have any money. They can’t afford to send me for the rest of the summer.”
“Oh,” Matt said, understanding settling in. His eyes brightened as an idea came to him. “Hey, maybe I could ask my mom and dad to pay for you.”
I shook my head. “My parents would kill me for even telling you.”
“Will you come back?” he asked. “Like, what if he gets another job quickly?”
“I don’t think so. Not this summer. It sounded like the decision was pretty permanent.”
Matt shook his head. His response made me feel suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“I’ll write to you. Maybe we can even see each other during the school year.”
I nodded, frowning. “Sure.”
“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Matt awkwardly wrapped his long arms around me and squeezed me into a hug. I sobbed into his shoulder, and when I was done, he pulled me back to look at me. “I swear I won’t say a word. Cross my heart.”
He kept his promise.
In hindsight, I think that may have been the moment I fell in love with him.