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Authors: Rochelle B. Weinstein
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her insides. GSDIa, Chloe’s form of GSD, is most prevalent among individuals of Ashkenazi Jewish descent. There is a test that parents can take to determine if they are carriers. Oddly, the genetic panel given to the Kellers did not include GSD. All the markers were in place (both Madeline and Craig were carriers) for the disease to take root in any one of their unborn children. That it infected one of them was the luck of the draw, and both Madeline and Craig had conflicting emotions about the way it played out. On one hand, Madeline was pleased that she was ignorant to their being carriers, as it may have barred them from having children at all. On the other hand, the absence of Chloe in their lives was unthinkable.
“It’s probably good for you to go,” Levon finally answers his sister, although he is wondering how his mother expects her to be ready to re-enter normal life.
“Are you going?” she asks.
He didn’t know. His mother hadn’t rendered her decision. He spent most of the afternoon avoiding her and making small talk with their friends and extended family, and he was sure she wouldn’t mind his absence during the day. Besides, he would do just about anything to escape this hellish purgatory.
“Maybe I will,” he answers, throwing his arm around his sister’s narrow shoulder and hugging her.
The dog next door begins to bark, and his raucous sounds prompt Chloe from the space beside him toward the open window. Over the last week of being homebound for shiva, Levon had become a little obsessed with watching the dog and his new neighbor, the beautiful girl with the tattoo. He was now able to set his watch to the girl’s dog walking schedule—6:30 a.m., 3:00 p.m., and 8:30 p.m.
“What is that ?” Chloe inquires, wide-eyed and peering into the night sky. She is so at ease in Levon’s space it’s as if she knew it was meant to be hers.
“That’s George.”
“ George?” she annunciates, “Who’s George?”
“Our new neighbor’s dog.”
“We have new neighbors and they have a dog?”
Should he go on to explain in detail how cute the animal is and how infatuated she will become with him? Should he tell her he is creamy gold with big, droopy eyes and a frenzied tail that could swat butterflies and bees right out of the sky? Chloe wanted to be a veterinarian, for God’s sake! A dog living next door was going to tantalize and torture her.
“How do you know his name is George? And George can be a girl, you know, short for Georgie.”
“This one’s a boy, Chloe, trust me.”
“Will you take me there tomorrow, Levon? Please, please, you have to take me!”
Her eyes are beseeching—insistent and full of longing. How could he say no?
The lights are out, and Chloe is asleep in her room. Levon is feigning sleep when his mother opens the door and pokes her head inside. Whether she decides to send him to school or not is of no importance. He has already made the decision to go. Besides, what good would he be to them at home, sulking around and getting in the way? Since shiva, his mother survived on delirium and histrionics before taking refuge in her darkened bedroom where she lay lethargic beneath a forest of olive sheets. Levon saw the prescriptions on the counter in their kitchen for the drugs that would sedate her and restrain her from throwing herself in front of a moving bus. He wasn’t sure how they mix with the bottles of wine she was consuming. His mother was unrecognizable—inconsolable—and school was a welcome distraction.
“Levon,” she whispers to deaf ears, “are you sleeping?”
Questions like this always give him a good chuckle.
He would have laughed in the past and replied, “Yes, Mom, I’m sleeping,” but their life no longer allowed for witty humor.
“Levon.”
He ignores her again and senses her coming close. It is dark in the room. Levon smells something so unfamiliar to him he has to hold in a
“It’s probably good for you to go,” Levon finally answers his sister, although he is wondering how his mother expects her to be ready to re-enter normal life.
“Are you going?” she asks.
He didn’t know. His mother hadn’t rendered her decision. He spent most of the afternoon avoiding her and making small talk with their friends and extended family, and he was sure she wouldn’t mind his absence during the day. Besides, he would do just about anything to escape this hellish purgatory.
“Maybe I will,” he answers, throwing his arm around his sister’s narrow shoulder and hugging her.
The dog next door begins to bark, and his raucous sounds prompt Chloe from the space beside him toward the open window. Over the last week of being homebound for shiva, Levon had become a little obsessed with watching the dog and his new neighbor, the beautiful girl with the tattoo. He was now able to set his watch to the girl’s dog walking schedule—6:30 a.m., 3:00 p.m., and 8:30 p.m.
“What is that ?” Chloe inquires, wide-eyed and peering into the night sky. She is so at ease in Levon’s space it’s as if she knew it was meant to be hers.
“That’s George.”
“ George?” she annunciates, “Who’s George?”
“Our new neighbor’s dog.”
“We have new neighbors and they have a dog?”
Should he go on to explain in detail how cute the animal is and how infatuated she will become with him? Should he tell her he is creamy gold with big, droopy eyes and a frenzied tail that could swat butterflies and bees right out of the sky? Chloe wanted to be a veterinarian, for God’s sake! A dog living next door was going to tantalize and torture her.
“How do you know his name is George? And George can be a girl, you know, short for Georgie.”
“This one’s a boy, Chloe, trust me.”
“Will you take me there tomorrow, Levon? Please, please, you have to take me!”
Her eyes are beseeching—insistent and full of longing. How could he say no?
The lights are out, and Chloe is asleep in her room. Levon is feigning sleep when his mother opens the door and pokes her head inside. Whether she decides to send him to school or not is of no importance. He has already made the decision to go. Besides, what good would he be to them at home, sulking around and getting in the way? Since shiva, his mother survived on delirium and histrionics before taking refuge in her darkened bedroom where she lay lethargic beneath a forest of olive sheets. Levon saw the prescriptions on the counter in their kitchen for the drugs that would sedate her and restrain her from throwing herself in front of a moving bus. He wasn’t sure how they mix with the bottles of wine she was consuming. His mother was unrecognizable—inconsolable—and school was a welcome distraction.
“Levon,” she whispers to deaf ears, “are you sleeping?”
Questions like this always give him a good chuckle.
He would have laughed in the past and replied, “Yes, Mom, I’m sleeping,” but their life no longer allowed for witty humor.
“Levon.”
He ignores her again and senses her coming close. It is dark in the room. Levon smells something so unfamiliar to him he has to hold in a
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