Read Online Carol of the Bellskis by Astrid Amara - Free Book Online
Authors: Astrid Amara
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suitcase contained an impressive amount of clothing. Lars was nothing if not a perfectionist in
his attire. As he struggled to pull a pair of jeans over his fading but still-noticeable erection, he
smirked at Seth and gestured to it.
Seth gave him the finger and left the room.
Carol of the Bellskis
45
Seth joined the guests in the dining room and chatted. All the while his phone vibrated
nearly constantly in his pocket. Lars served breakfast cheerily, although Seth knew him well
enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes.
Chaim, thrilled with his ugly bowl of teff grain, walked to shul. Seth reminded him to ask
about the Bellskis.
Seth changed into warm clothes and walked outside so he could finally answer his phone.
He didn't want the guests to see him breaking the Shabbat rules, but whoever was calling was not
giving up. Outside, the snow had stopped falling and the sun shone, but it was bitterly cold,
several degrees below freezing.
Seth walked down the road and listened to his messages. He had thirteen.
Dave Bellski, Carl's cousin. Rose Epstein, Judi's sister. Naomi Bellski, Carl's sister-in-law.
The entire East Coast Bellski clan had mobilized.
There was panic everywhere.
Seth retold the same story over and over, getting mixed results. Some of his relatives
yelled at him that the Bellskis were fine, that nothing could kill them, that they were
impenetrable forces of sheer will and strong bone. Others knew they were going to be killed out
there in the wild, with the bears and the rabid deer. Others said it was all up to God. Others said
it was all up to Seth Bellski.
“You go out there and find them!” was one sage piece of advice, from a Merl Greenburg,
some distant relation Seth couldn't even remember meeting.
“For God's sake, lock the door and don't go outside! There could be anti-Semites out
there!” was more astute wisdom, this time from Grandma Adler, his father's sister's mother-in-
law.
The sun beamed, the streets warmed, cars drove, people enjoyed the scenery, skiers slid
down mountains, and all the while, Seth talked on the phone. He talked until his phone battery
died. Then he slipped back into the B and B, stealthily plugged his phone in, and hid it under the
bed like a delinquent child.
Meanwhile, around the house, magic happened. Showers turned on for invisible audiences.
The toaster oven heated and cooled like an indecisive lover. The house answered the religious
call of the orthodox Saturday afternoon by requiring no one to lift a finger.
46
Astrid Amara
Lars went for a long run in the morning and spent lunch reading Aunt Judi's cookbooks.
But in the afternoon he found Seth and begged a chance to talk and go for a walk together.
Against his better judgment Seth agreed, and the two of them strolled through Whistler Village.
It was nice to get away from the B and B and the troubles, but every happy moment Seth spent
with Lars seemed like another knife between the ribs. This all had to end.
Lars's phone rang persistently as well, despite it being Saturday and despite Lars being on
vacation. He apologized every time, but he clearly still felt the need to take each call. Seth could
tell when Lars lowered his voice that he was talking to Adam Finch.
“I'll have to get back to you on that,” Lars said, eyeing Seth, giving him an apologetic
shrug. His inability to switch his phone to silent annoyed Seth.
Still, Lars was trying. He pulled out all the stops, charming Seth, flirting like he had when
he first seduced Seth over a year ago. Seth had been flattered by the attention back then, and
even now he could sense the affection radiating from Lars, his honest desire to make Seth laugh,
to please him, to wear down Seth's resolve.
Lars tsked as Seth clenched his hands in the cold. He grabbed Seth's arm and led him into
the North Face and tried to buy him an expensive pair of leather gloves.
“I don't need them,” Seth protested.
“I want you
suitcase contained an impressive amount of clothing. Lars was nothing if not a perfectionist in
his attire. As he struggled to pull a pair of jeans over his fading but still-noticeable erection, he
smirked at Seth and gestured to it.
Seth gave him the finger and left the room.
Carol of the Bellskis
45
Seth joined the guests in the dining room and chatted. All the while his phone vibrated
nearly constantly in his pocket. Lars served breakfast cheerily, although Seth knew him well
enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes.
Chaim, thrilled with his ugly bowl of teff grain, walked to shul. Seth reminded him to ask
about the Bellskis.
Seth changed into warm clothes and walked outside so he could finally answer his phone.
He didn't want the guests to see him breaking the Shabbat rules, but whoever was calling was not
giving up. Outside, the snow had stopped falling and the sun shone, but it was bitterly cold,
several degrees below freezing.
Seth walked down the road and listened to his messages. He had thirteen.
Dave Bellski, Carl's cousin. Rose Epstein, Judi's sister. Naomi Bellski, Carl's sister-in-law.
The entire East Coast Bellski clan had mobilized.
There was panic everywhere.
Seth retold the same story over and over, getting mixed results. Some of his relatives
yelled at him that the Bellskis were fine, that nothing could kill them, that they were
impenetrable forces of sheer will and strong bone. Others knew they were going to be killed out
there in the wild, with the bears and the rabid deer. Others said it was all up to God. Others said
it was all up to Seth Bellski.
“You go out there and find them!” was one sage piece of advice, from a Merl Greenburg,
some distant relation Seth couldn't even remember meeting.
“For God's sake, lock the door and don't go outside! There could be anti-Semites out
there!” was more astute wisdom, this time from Grandma Adler, his father's sister's mother-in-
law.
The sun beamed, the streets warmed, cars drove, people enjoyed the scenery, skiers slid
down mountains, and all the while, Seth talked on the phone. He talked until his phone battery
died. Then he slipped back into the B and B, stealthily plugged his phone in, and hid it under the
bed like a delinquent child.
Meanwhile, around the house, magic happened. Showers turned on for invisible audiences.
The toaster oven heated and cooled like an indecisive lover. The house answered the religious
call of the orthodox Saturday afternoon by requiring no one to lift a finger.
46
Astrid Amara
Lars went for a long run in the morning and spent lunch reading Aunt Judi's cookbooks.
But in the afternoon he found Seth and begged a chance to talk and go for a walk together.
Against his better judgment Seth agreed, and the two of them strolled through Whistler Village.
It was nice to get away from the B and B and the troubles, but every happy moment Seth spent
with Lars seemed like another knife between the ribs. This all had to end.
Lars's phone rang persistently as well, despite it being Saturday and despite Lars being on
vacation. He apologized every time, but he clearly still felt the need to take each call. Seth could
tell when Lars lowered his voice that he was talking to Adam Finch.
“I'll have to get back to you on that,” Lars said, eyeing Seth, giving him an apologetic
shrug. His inability to switch his phone to silent annoyed Seth.
Still, Lars was trying. He pulled out all the stops, charming Seth, flirting like he had when
he first seduced Seth over a year ago. Seth had been flattered by the attention back then, and
even now he could sense the affection radiating from Lars, his honest desire to make Seth laugh,
to please him, to wear down Seth's resolve.
Lars tsked as Seth clenched his hands in the cold. He grabbed Seth's arm and led him into
the North Face and tried to buy him an expensive pair of leather gloves.
“I don't need them,” Seth protested.
“I want you
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