Then Zeyde Jordan hugged Paul and pounded him on the back. “You’re gonna beat this.”
“I know, Zeyde,” Paul said.
Zeyde wiped away tears and stuffed a twenty-dollar bill into Paul’s hand.
“Thanks, Zeyde.”
Bubbe Marcia held on to Paul extra long. “We love you, Paulie.”
“Love you too, Bubbe.”
“We’ll see you next week for Yom Kippur,” Bubbe said. “You tell us if we can do anything before then.”
“Will do,” Mama Dee said, her lips pressed together, like she was holding back a river of emotions.
After the grandparents left, Paul, Abby, Mom Rachel, and Mama Dee returned to the table, but no one touched their plates.
No one spoke.
Paul’s bad news hung in the air like a heavy rain cloud, about to burst open onto all of them.
Finally, Mom Rachel looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “We’re going to get through this like we get through everything.”
“With food?” Paul asked.
Mama Dee laughed and covered her mouth.
“Together,” Mom Rachel said. “We’ll get through this together.”
“Absolutely.” Mama Dee wiped her nose with a napkin. “All for one and one for… well, you know the rest.”
The four of them held hands around the table, squeezed tight, and closed their eyes.
If the power of those silent prayers around that table could have healed Paul, he would’ve walked away that evening cancer-free.
But Paul would need more than prayer to slay this particular beast.
* * *
After they cleaned up and everyone went to their rooms, Abby pulled out her journal and captured her thoughts in a poem.
A New Year
The Jewish New Year
Should be a time of celebration
Of starting over, of blessings.
It should be the beginning of a sweet new year.
It should not be a time of news so bad, so sad
That even three kinds of dessert can’t fix it.
This was the worst way
To begin a new year.
Shana tovah, my foot!
Abby put her journal away and turned out the light. “Happy New Year, Fudge.”
Her turtle, perched on a rock, did not respond.
How to Atone for Your Sins
Ever since she was eight, Abby had tried to fast on Yom Kippur, the Jewish High Holy Day—the day to atone for your sins from the past year. And every year Abby gave up by early afternoon when her stomach hurt and she thought she might faint.
This year, Abby decided, would be different.
She was determined to fast the entire time until sundown—even though she knew her stomach would hurt and she’d feel dizzy—because this year it was important that she atone for her sins, including not hanging that mezuzah to protect her family as soon as she got it. Deep inside, Abby knew the purpose of the mezuzah wasn’t to protect her family; it was meant as a reminder to create a Jewish household. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that not putting it up was a mistake, like her selfishness in hiding it under her bed somehow contributed to Paul’s illness. Her logical mind knew she was being silly, but her heart worried she had something to do with her brother getting sick. And if that were the case, maybe there was a way she could help him get better.
Since Abby never went to school on Yom Kippur and Jews weren’t supposed to do any work, she spent the day in her room, talking to God. Cat and her mom had always spent Yom Kippur at synagogue, but Abby and her family did their talking to God at home.
If I don’t eat a single thing during Yom Kippur or take even a sip of water, please make Paul well and take all the cancer away.
* * *
By midday it felt like acid was eating through the lining of Abby’s gut, but she refused to give in. She wouldn’t break her part of the deal with God, figuring it was the least she could do to help her brother.
Abby waited after everyone else started eating to make absolutely sure she’d allowed enough time, even though her mouth watered from the apple-pear-cranberry tart Mama Dee had made as the first course to break the fast.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Paul asked.
I’m trying to save you! Abby took a few sips of water and her first bite of tart after twenty-five hours with nothing to eat or drink.
Sweet and sour flavors exploded in her mouth.
Abby never appreciated food so much.
She hoped her small sacrifice of fasting had helped her brother, but she knew there was one more thing she needed to do.
* * *
Friday morning before school, Abby reached under her bed and took out the mezuzah Cat had sent her from Israel for her birthday. She ran three fingers over the smooth surface and kissed her fingertips.
Then Abby went into the garage to find a tape measure, a hammer, and two nails.
She measured one third from the top of the doorframe at the entrance to their house and made a tiny mark with a pencil, then said the blessing over the mezuzah.
“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech ha-olam, asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu likboah mezuzah.
“Praise to You, Adonai our G-d, Sovereign of the universe, who hallows us with mitzvot, commanding us to affix the mezuzah.”
Abby checked the measurements three times to be sure it was in the right place, then tilted the mezuzah on the doorframe and started hammering.
She stood back and admired how nice it looked. “There. Should have done that the day I got it.”
Conrad came over while she was admiring her work. “Hey, Abs.”
Hearing his voice still sent small shivers along Abby’s spine. “Oh, hi.”
“What’s that?” He pointed to the mezuzah.
As they walked to school, Abby explained the significance of the mezuzah. She didn’t mention to Conrad that part of the reason she’d hung it was to ward off any more bad things from happening to her family because she knew that was ridiculous. She didn’t tell him she worried she might somehow be responsible for what was going on with Paul for the same reason. She didn’t mention what was happening with Paul at all.
She hadn’t told anyone other than Fudge and Cat.
Fudge, of course, ignored her, as was his way, but when Abby told Cat over video chat, she burst out crying, which proved to Abby that even 6,584.2 miles couldn’t keep Cat from being her best friend.
Feeling Your Feelings
A few days later, on Sunday, the night before Paul’s surgery—which was called an orchiectomy; Abby had looked it up—he’d planned a going-away party… for his testicle.
That morning, Abby video chatted with Cat. “Can you believe he’s planning a going-away party? For. His. Testicle?”
Cat burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious, Abs.”
Abby couldn’t believe Cat laughed. When she’d told her that Paul had cancer, Cat had cried. Big tears of deep understanding. Now Cat was laughing. “It’s not funny.”
Cat curled the bottom of her braid around her finger. “Actually, Abs, it kind of is if you think about it.”
Abby had thought about it. It was all she could think about. She didn’t understand why her moms were in on this party. It was the day before Paul’s surgery. Something could go wrong. Surgery was serious business. Her brother could even die.
When Cat said she had to go meet friends for pizza, Abby was glad to hang up. She was also a little envious that Cat already had new friends, but she didn’t. Unless you counted Conrad. He and Abby walked to and from school together, and she’d been to his house, so Abby decided he counted as a new friend. She wouldn’t mind having at least one more friend at school, though. It would be nice to have someone to walk to classes with and eat lunch with in the cafeteria, since Conrad had a different lunch period than she did. Abby didn’t require a big group to feel comfortable; just one or two good friends was all she needed.
She couldn’t think about her
lack of friends at the moment, though, because she was filled with worry about Paul’s surgery and irritation that they were throwing a party for it.
Abby turned to Fudge’s tank. “Why doesn’t anyone understand you don’t celebrate having cancer?”
Fudge opened his mouth, like he, too, was laughing.
“Et tu, Brute?” Abby collapsed facedown onto her bed, feeling the scratchy yarn from the afghan her bubbe had made for her.
It took every ounce of energy she had to drag herself off the bed and into the living room with her family.
Mom Rachel and Mama Dee were wearing pointy cardboard hats like the ones little kids put on at birthday parties. They even added a sparkly new collar to Miss Lucy with the words PARTY, PARTY, PARTY, so she could be a party girl, too.
Abby stood off to the side of the living room with her arms crossed.
When Mom Rachel approached and tried to put a party hat on Abby’s head, she knocked her mom’s hand away.
“Hey!” Mom Rachel warned. “Quit being bratty about this, Abigail.”
Abby’s nostrils flared.
“What is with you today?” Mama Dee searched Abby’s face, as though she were looking for answers.
Abby crossed her arms more tightly.
“What’s your problem?” Mom Rachel asked.
“I don’t have a problem!” Abby exploded. “Maybe I don’t think we should be celebrating what’s happening to Paul.”
Mama Dee stood in front of Abby and put her hands on Abby’s shoulders. “We’re not celebrating what’s happening to your brother. This is what your brother wants. He asked for this, Abs. And it’s something we can do for him, so we’re doing it.”
Abby turned her back to Mama Dee, breaking her mom’s grip on her shoulders. “Well, it’s stupid. That’s all.”
Mom Rachel said, “She’ll get over herself, Dee. Don’t worry.”
Abby was about to whirl around and tell Mom Rachel not to talk about her like she wasn’t standing right there, but the doorbell rang.
Paul jogged into the living room, wearing socks, shorts, and a T-shirt with a picture of a squirrel carrying an armload of acorns. The T-shirt read, I’M GOING TO KICK TESTICULAR CANCER IN THE NUTS.
Ethan strutted in, carrying a gift.
“Where’s Jake?” Paul asked. “Thought he was coming with you.”
“Said he’d be here soon,” Ethan said.
Ethan dropped his gift on the couch, grabbed Paul into a hug, and pounded him on the back.
Abby was probably the only one who noticed Paul wince from the pounding. Everyone else was too busy getting into party mode.
“Hey there, Miss Abby.” Ethan grabbed her into a hug and lifted her off her feet.
Normally, this would make Abby happy, but today she wasn’t in the mood.
Abby went to her room, preferring the company of Fudge. He wouldn’t be wearing a stupid party hat. He wouldn’t be celebrating Paul’s upcoming surgery. He would be old, reliable, boring Fudge. And that’s exactly what Abby needed.
She dove onto her bed and put her pillow over the back of her head, expecting one of the moms to come in and try to convince her to come out and “celebrate” Paul losing his testicle. Abby imagined they’d tell her this wasn’t about her and she should be a good sport.
When Abby heard a knock on her bedroom door, she pulled the pillow tighter and didn’t answer. As far as she was concerned, the moms could wait out there all night.
The door creaked open. “Six-Pack?”
Abby sat up, turned toward her brother, and clutched the pillow to her chest. “What?” she said in her most annoyed voice, even though she didn’t want to be mean to Paul.
“Can I come in?”
“You already are in.” She couldn’t seem to lose the attitude.
Paul plopped next to Abby on the bed.
“I don’t like your shirt,” she said. “It’s dumb.”
“Okay.”
“And this party is dumb too. Really dumb!”
Paul put his hand on his sister’s knee. “Abs?”
She bit her bottom lip, afraid she’d cry. Abby didn’t want to be sad. It was easier to be angry. “What?!”
“Abby,” Paul said in his softest voice. “There are two choices here. We can be sad and miserable and tomorrow morning, I’m going to get my nut cut off.”
She didn’t like Paul talking about it like that.
“Or…”
He tipped Abby’s chin up so she had to look at him.
She pressed her lips together, determined to stay angry.
“Or… we can laugh our butts off tonight, have a great time, and tomorrow morning, I’m going to get my nut cut off.”
Abby let out a shaky breath. She hadn’t thought about it like that. The bad thing was going to happen to Paul tomorrow morning, whether they laughed or cried tonight. It wouldn’t change tomorrow, but everyone might feel a little better tonight. Maybe, Abby thought, that’s why Cat laughed. Maybe she understood that it was okay to laugh. Abby pushed the pillow out of the way and looked at her lap. “I didn’t think you could, you know, laugh about cancer. It’s really serious.”
“It is,” Paul admitted. “But you can laugh about almost anything. Just depends on how you approach it.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“It totally does, Six-Pack.”
“Did Jake ever show up?”
Paul shook his head.
“Why not?” Abby realized she hadn’t seen Jake since they’d found out about Paul’s cancer. “Is he sick or something?”
Paul shrugged. “Who knows. But will you please come out and join the party? I don’t like you hiding in here when we’re out there having fun.”
Abby nodded.
“Good. We’re about to play Pin the Nut on the Squirrel.”
“Oh my gosh!” Abby covered her face, then got out of bed. She followed her brother to the living room, where Paul donned one of the pointy party hats.
Abby was the only person not wearing one.
Mom Rachel held one out to her.
Abby grabbed it and broke into a huge grin before putting it on.
“Attagirl!” Paul pumped his fist.
Mom Rachel made everyone fancy limeade spritzers with mint leaves, then Paul opened his presents.
Ethan gave him a cap with a picture of a squirrel holding two acorns.
“For when you lose your hair,” he said.
Paul ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
Ethan punched Paul in the shoulder.
Paul punched him back, then began unwrapping a gift from the moms. “What is it?”
Mama Dee shrugged.
“You should know,” Paul said. “You got it.”
“No I didn’t,” Mama Dee replied. “I’ll be as surprised as you are. You know Mom Rachel takes care of presents.”
We laughed.
Inside the box were a couple dozen acorns.
“Ha ha,” Paul said. “Everybody’s a comedian.” Then he looked a little sad.
“Come on, kid.” Mama Dee tapped his shoulder. “Time for a game!”
Abby thought she should have gotten her brother a present, even if she didn’t like the idea of a party. She could have bought him a new book of banjo music or a funny cap like Ethan did, or… something to show she loved him.
“Game time!” Ethan shouted.
They were in the middle of Pin the Nut on the Squirrel when the doorbell rang.
Paul looked at Ethan. “Jake?”
Ethan shrugged, then looked down.
“I’ll get it,” Abby said.
When she opened the door, Conrad stood there, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. “Hey, Abs, I texted you but…” He peeked around her.
Abby wondered what Conrad thought about the things he was seeing—people in pointy party hats, a giant poster of a squirrel on the wall with little acorns stuck all over it, and, Abby realized, Paul and Ethan trying t
o do handstand push-ups against the wall… and failing miserably.
Abby yanked off her pointy hat, snapping her chin with the rubber band in the process. It reminded her of the first time she’d met Conrad and was wearing that silly birthday tiara. “You were? Texting me? Sorry. My phone’s in my room.”
“I wanted to see if you felt like walking into town. I’m kind of bored.”
“Let’s go outside.” Abby grabbed Conrad by the elbow and led him out into the humid night air because she realized it had gotten quiet behind her, which meant everyone was probably staring at them.
Outside on the porch, Abby swatted away a mosquito as Conrad whispered, “Um, what was going on in there?”
“It was… well…” Abby didn’t know how to explain, especially because she hadn’t told Conrad what was going on with Paul. She looked at him, opened her mouth, closed it, then burst out crying.
I’m definitely too sensitive!
“Oh wow. Abby, are you…?” Conrad opened his arms, then dropped them at his sides. “Can I…?”
Abby sniffed and nodded.
Conrad moved a step closer, wrapped his arms awkwardly around her, and gently patted Abby’s back. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Abby pulled away and stepped back, shaking her head. “It isn’t.”
Conrad’s soft brown eyes held nothing but compassion, so Abby blurted, “My brother has cancer.”
His mouth opened.
Abby wished she hadn’t said anything. Being quiet felt safer than sharing hard things.
Conrad moved a step closer. And another step.
He didn’t say anything, which left room for Abby to talk.
“It’s testicular cancer. He’s getting surgery…” She sniffed hard. “Tomorrow morning. Really early.”
Conrad still didn’t say anything, so Abby told him the truest thing. “I’m scared.”
“Abby, I’m sorry.”
She hiccuped and wiped her leaking eyes. “I’m most scared that Paul might… that he could… die.” She hadn’t shared that fear with anyone. Abby knew some people did die during surgery. Some people died from testicular cancer. Abby wished desperately that she could go back in time, back before she knew about Paul’s cancer, when she thought the worst thing in the world was Cat moving away.
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