Read Online The Best Place on Earth by Ayelet Tsabari - Free Book Online

it was Reuma’s fault, she had done everything for her boys. “Poor Ofra,” one had said. “Can you imagine?” It was true: Reuma had been harder on Ofra, but she’d done it for her own good. She had thought she was preparing Ofra for marriage, the same way her own mother had done for her.
    A streetcar rumbled outside, and then stopped across the street, letting passengers off onto the slushy road. The same year that Ofra had accused Reuma of favouring her sons, she had invited her aunt Miri, Shaul’s younger sister, to Mother’s Day in junior high—a school on the other side of town, where kids from an affluent neighbourhood, most of them Ashkenazi, were integrated with Yemeni kids from Sha’ariya. The teacher had called to inquire about Reuma’s health because Ofra had said that she was ill. Soon after that, Ofra stopped eating Reuma’s food—Reuma found the sandwiches she had prepared for her in the garbage. “It smells funny,” Ofra said. “Kids make fun of me.” It wasn’t just Reuma she had rejected: she despised anything Yemeni, even her curls, which she began straightening every morning. She even changed the way she spoke; as a little kid she spoke like her parents, with guttural hets and ayins. Reuma lost her daughter over and over again: first she became Ashkenazi, then Canadian; it was in her melody of speaking, the polite words she’d started peppering her sentences with, the way she smiled at passersby on the street. Reuma had heard her speaking on the phone to her friends, and then to Matthew, in English, laughing in English. A stranger. And now she was no longer Jewish.
    Ofra burst into the café, her cheeks flushed. “My God, Ima, you scared me half to death. Let’s go home.”
    “No.” Reuma crossed her arms against her chest, not looking at her daughter.
    “We planned a special dinner for you,” Ofra pleaded. “And I need you here. Please.”
    Reuma stared out the window.
    “Let’s at least talk about it,” Ofra said.
    Reuma watched a woman decorating a Christmas tree at a store across the street, hanging sparkly ornaments on its branches. She looked around the café, the young people hunched over their blue laptop screens, the steam rising from the coffee machine behind the bar. She got up and put her coat on.
    They walked the two blocks silently, the wind whistling between them, their faces buried in their scarves. Everyone they passed was bundled up, faceless, anonymous figures. What a lonely place to live, Reuma thought.
    The warmth of the house enveloped them. Matthew peeked out from the kitchen and smiled. Reuma hurried in, scowling in his direction, and climbed up the stairs to her room.
    Ofra followed her. “Don’t be mad at Matthew. We made this decision together.”
    Reuma scoffed. “He’s not even Jewish.”
    “Who? Yonatan? Of course he is.”
    Reuma jerked her chin toward Matthew in the kitchen. “What’s half-Jewish? You and I both know there’s no such thing.”
    Ofra gave her a hard look. “He was raised Jewish. He feels Jewish.”
    “Doesn’t matter. According to the Halacha he’s not Jewish.”
    “Since when did you become a rabbi?”
    “Is that why you married in city hall? Like the goyim?” Reuma felt as if she couldn’t stop. “You’d never think not to do brit on your own.”
    “That’s not true,” Ofra said. “I’ve been thinking about it for years. I’ve done a lot of research. You know, I prayed for a daughter just so I wouldn’t have to deal with this.”
    “It’s not right.” Reuma sat on the bed, inconsolable. “Your father would have never accepted it.”
    Ofra looked down. “I know.”
    “He would have been furious at you.”
    “Ima, you’re acting like it’s the end of the world. If you just took some time …”
    “It is.” Reuma shook her head. “It is.”
    “But we’re happy, I’m happy. I have a son, a family, a home. How can you not see that?”
    “What am I going to say to people?” Reuma started crying