“What do you want from me?”

It’s hard to bend over with a broken arm. It’s hard to pick up things that someone has taken out of my bag. It’s hard to be suspected of theft. It’s hard to deny it without crying. It’s hard. “What do you want from me?”

“You’ve already been here close to ten times, geveret.”

The saleswoman does not soften her stance towards me. Not even in the face of the glaring difference in position. She stands tall. I am crouched on the floor, wretched as I have never been in my life.

“You’ve never bought anything. Not a pacifier, not a blanket, not a stroller. Nothing.”

She shoots arrows from her mouth, aiming them at me. One by one.

*

“Goodbye, little treasure.” The whisper burns in my ear.

“It’s only for a little while. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine in the meantime, maybe even better than…” Leah’s whisper is silent, dying.

Ashi squirms in my arms. His little mouth twists, preparing to cry. Don’t cry, child, I silently beg him. Look at your mother’s wounded conscience—don’t hurt it even more.

*

Borrowed Blessing
This is the story of Tammy, and of her husband Yisrael, of Leah, Libby, Ashi, Ruchama, and Yaakovi.

Each one of them will ask. • And will receive. • And will take.

Sometimes, they will remain without.