Small Favors by Barry Rachin (little readers txt) 📖

Boston. The Melissa Sweet, one shoulder, silk Garza gown with ruched waist and clusters of beaded floral appliqués on the bodice had cost well over five thousand dollars. “Enough already with the Baruch Ha’Shems!” Miriam screeched. “I want the fucking air conditioning fixed, or I’ll have the maitre d’s testicle on a platter!” The rabbi sighed, shook his head and hurried away without further conciliatory remarks. Fifteen minutes later an emergency generator in the basement of the building got the air conditioner, which was on a separate circuit, running again. As the temperature in the ballroom gradually settled back into the low seventies, Miriam was transformed – in true Jekyll-and-Hyde fashion – from bride-from-hell to blissful newlywed.

Following the wedding, the couple honeymooned on an island off the coast of Greece. “What a firecracker!” Lenny's father chuckled the following morning at the bridal brunch. “The maitre d's testicles on a platter,” he repeated Miriam’s vulgar threat, and the guests howled, hooted, jeered and laughed hysterically. Even Elsie considered her new sister-an-law’s gauche antics priceless. But now that Joel had assaulted his wife and been thrown out of the house without even a year of marriage to show for the lavish wedding, Lenny didn't know what to think


"How are Joel and Miriam doing?" Lenny asked in the morning before leaving for classes.

"Good," his mother replied. Did he detect a slight tightening of the vocal cords, causing her tone to drift upwards in pitch? "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. He hasn't called in a while."

"Well he's busy with his medical practice and new wife," his mother replied.

What new wife? He beat her up. The police came and evicted him from the goddamn, luxury condo! "So he's coming for Passover?"

"They're coming," his mother corrected. "By the way, I spoke to Mrs. Callahan."

"Yes, I know."

"Such a sweet woman!" Mrs. Berman, who was repotting an aloe plant that had outgrown the decorative ceramic bowl, looked up. "A bit intellectually limited but a perfectly decent sort." She sprinkled water over the vermiculite. "Not all goyim are dreck."


"There are a few things you need to know before coming to Seder," Lenny cautioned. "Let's begin with the Botox smile." They were sitting in the living room of the Callahan house. Marcie had three older brothers and twin sisters so there were constant throngs of young people traipsing through the house at any given moment. Initially, the bedlam stood Lenny back on his heels, but over the years he had become inured; at a deeper level he may have actual begun to look forward to his regular visits.

Were the Callahans tacky? Yes. Were they loud and crass? Absolutely! Were they kind, boorish, fun loving, ignorant, gracious, ill-bred and welcoming? Well, yes again. Just the other day, one of Marcie's older brothers, who played defensive end on the varsity football team, tiptoed up behind him. The muscle-bound goofball cuffed him playfully on the side of the head with the flat of his hand. "There's pepperoni pizza in the kitchen, but you better hurry 'cause it's going fast." Lenny glanced warily at the husky teen. There was nothing mean-spirited in the physical act. It was just the way the Callahans were - direct to the point of raunchy inappropriateness.

"The Botox smile," Lenny repeated. "When you first arrive at Passover Seder, you will notice everyone smiling nonstop as though they just returned from the gates of heaven or a plastic surgeon."

"You're not even remotely funny," Marcie replied sourly.

"The reason for the euphoria," Lenny ignored the remark, "is they're all covering for my brother's marital problems. Nobody's supposed to know any of this so we 'pretend' everything's peachy keen."

"Will Joel's wife be there?"

"No, Miriam will not be coming for Passover and don't mention her name or draw attention to the fact that my brother is alone."

"And I thought my family was weird!" Marcie patted him sympathetically on the wrist. "What else?"

"My sister Elsie has a vindictive streak and will assault you with an endless barrage of catty remarks. It's what she lives for. Don't take it personal."

"Anything else?" Marcie was beginning to look frazzled.

"Yes, one last thing: Goyim, non-Jews, are grossly inferior. It's their manifest destiny to never quite measure up. Essentially pagans and idol worshippers, they drink to excess, cheat on their spouses and their morals are so badly flawed as to be virtually non-existent."

"What about your brother and his foulmouthed, estranged wife?"

At the opposite end of the claustrophobically small house, Mrs. Callahan was hollering for someone to fetch a fresh roll of toilet paper; out of the corner of his eye, Lenny caught sight of one of the twins bolting down the narrow hallway. "Oh no," he shot back flippantly, "that doesn't count. Joel and Miriam are the exception that makes the rule."

"Well then," Marcie replied, "I'll see you tomorrow night."


The following day at Brandenberg High School, Lenny cornered Marcie in the school cafeteria as they were sitting down for lunch. "My brother's bringing Miriam to Seder."

"But I thought -"

"Apparently they reconciled and are trying to salvage their shitty marriage so try to act normal."

"I don't get it."

"Nobody's supposed to know my brother beat his wife up or that they were living apart."

"I thought Jewish men didn't hit their wives."

"Just try to act normal, that's all."

"That's the second time you told me," Marcie observed soberly.

"Told you what?"

"To act normal."


Marcie arrived for the Passover Seder dressed in a blue frock and low, patent leather heels. Before the ceremony began, Mrs. Berman explained the symbolism of the various delicacies spread across the dining room table. "This mixture of apples, nuts, wine and spices," she pointed to a small bowl, "is called charoset . It reminds us of the mortar the Jewish slaves made in their building for the Egyptians." Next to the charoset was a dish of parsley to be dipped into salt water, representing the tears of the Jews exiled from their ancestral homeland. "When we dipped the greens in the water," Mrs. Berman explained, "we share in the bitterness and suffering of that Biblical time.

Baruch atah Adonai,
Ailochenu melech ha'olem…

Once Lenny's mother had finished explaining the symbolism, Mr. Berman recited the blessing for the wine. Twenty minutes later after reading the Four Questions, the ritual Passover meal was served. As appetizer, a glistening heap of gefilte fish was passed around along with a separate dish of horse radish. Mrs. Berman and her daughter-in-law shuttled the steaming platters of baked brisket, steamed beans, potato and lokshen kugels from the kitchen.

"This is absolutely heavenly!" Marcie waved her fork over the tsimis. "What are the flavorings?"

"Sweet potatoes," Mrs. Berman replied, "carrots, a dozen or so pitted prunes, raisins, brown sugar and cinnamon. The concoction is simmered in a cup of orange juice for the citrusy tartness. Some people substitute diced pears and apricots along with a large sweet onion."

Lenny surveyed the room. Mr. Berman, who drained several glasses of Manischewitz wine before the ceremony got under way was feeling no pain whatsoever. Joel looked constipated. Sitting to his left, Miriam exuded a glacial, haughtiness. Whatever joy she might have felt lost traction, degenerating in diffuse indifference. She was clearly attending the family gathering under protest. Acting like she was hopped up on amphetamines, Mrs. Berman was talking nonstop, and Elsie was just plain old Elsie.


Around eight-thirty, Lenny approached his mother sorting leftovers in the kitchen. "I'm walking Marcie home."

"Such a lovely girl! I'm so glad she came." Mrs. Berman seemed overwrought, almost manic with relief that there had been no unpleasantness. Nobody mentioned the maitre d's testicles, Joel's fisticuffs or Miriam's predilection for obscenity-laced temper tantrums. It was like the Jewish version of the Emperor's New Clothes except none of the Bermans got to prance about au naturel.

"Are Joel and Miriam getting divorced?"

"Bite your tongue!" Mrs. Berman hissed. "Why would you suggest such absurdity?"

Lenny was dead tired. He felt like a bit player in an off-Broadway theater production after the final curtain had descended and the actors rushed off to their respective dressing rooms to shed costumes and makeup. "I'm gonna walk Marcie home," he repeated, ignoring the question.

"If there was some misunderstanding between your brother and his new wife," his mother spoke a bit too quickly, running all the words together in a frenetic heap, "it's all in the past now and everything's back to normal."

Elsie lugged the last of the dirty dishes into the kitchen, setting them on the counter before drifting back into the dining room. "No it isn't," Lenny blurted. Mrs. Berman eyed her son nervously. "It's getting late. I gotta take Marcie home."


When they were two blocks from the house, Lenny pulled up short. "I'm sorry about the Passover Seder."

"It's not your fault," Marcie noted. "Not everyone can have a perfect family like mine." She grabbed his face in both hands and kissed his mouth. "We're probably going to spend the rest of our lives together."

"Yes, that's fairly obvious," Lenny held her close. Somehow the endemic heartache he associated with his own cracked-egg-of-a-family, merged; it comingled and morphed into a sublime presentiment. "But we will need to create a new world order, a community of like-minded individuals."

Marcie paused a moment, considering the task at hand. "Something midway between Scout, Jem and Atticus Finch."

"With a smattering of Boo Radley thrown in for good measure." Lenny nuzzled her cheek with his lips.

"Yes, I totally forgot about Boo." Her arms snaked up behind Lenny's shoulders, holding on for dear life.
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Publication Date: 01-20-2011

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