A hand squeezed her shoulder, and Lilly looked up to see her son—the middle one that would have sworn like a sailor if she would have lit up a cigarette.

  “Mom, you looked beautiful that day,” he said, while pointing to the wedding picture that was surrounded by other framed photographs.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I ate.”

  Lilly didn’t like to lie to her children, but she wasn’t hungry.

  “Well, I better go and greet Vivian… ,” Lilly said to her son, as she put on a smile, and shoved the problem to the back corner of her mind, if that was at all possible, and it wasn’t because it kept creeping back up, where it met a knot of nervousness that twisted in her stomach. Damn those questions that popped in her head. Lilly tried to think about all what Vivian did for her for so many years. Where was the good? Think about that, Lil, Focus! She thought to herself.

  Lilly walked to the front door with clenched fists as she tried to breathe deeply to calm herself. No such luck there, as the pounding of her heart trumped any breathing technique that was recently learned at her late husband’s hospice.

  As she got closer, that familiar scent that brought her back to when they both worked at Sunderland’s when they greeted each other in the mornings reached her nose, when they shared that first cup of coffee before their shift began, along with all the dreams and aspirations they wanted, especially that one dream and moment that ruined everything.

  Even though Lilly learned to finally bring her shoulders back and hold her head high that presented the confidence that she had earned, without the help of any furs, that day was a challenge to follow through with that appearance, as her present sorrow kept her head down, which her slumped shoulders carried.

  And there they were—those patent-leather, high-heeled shoes that Vivian was famous for wearing, which never went out of style. Lilly thought that she would figure out how she would feel if she saw her in person, but to no avail, that didn’t happen, and she was conflicted as ever.

  Lilly’s eyes widened as she followed the shoes, up to the skirt, blouse, and famous strand of pearls. She held her smile and gathered her strength to greet her old friend in a cheerful way. She had to at least try.

  “Hi Vivian!” Lilly said with a bright smile.

  “Darling! You know how feel about you stretching your jaw like that!”

  Out of habit, Lilly closed her mouth quickly and tried to figure out when she had begun to avoid her friend.

  “Hello, my old friend!” Vivian cried while opening her arms. Lilly had no choice but to go in and hug back and the two ladies embraced and continued to hold each other as they began to speak.

  “Who are you calling old?” Lilly joked. Ah, she was able to crack a joke, have a little fun. This was good, Lilly thought, and Geraldine laughed.

  “Ah, the famous Vivian—your partner in crime where you guys told all those Jew-haters off!” Geraldine proudly stated. Lilly’s eyes bulged as she reacted to the sting of her grandchild’s question. She brought her hand to her mouth, as a flood of memories tested her tolerance. She had shared these stories with her family, knowing that they were important lessons, even though at the time, all that she had wanted was to dig a hole in the department store floor, crawl under it, and die. How she had gotten through those times, she had no idea. Yes, she did. Vivian was there. Coaching her. Reassuring her. Being there for her. This was the good that she was looking for, which brought her hope. It was just the very last incident that broke the bond between Lilly and Vivian that was still lingering to that day.

  Vivian looked at Lilly, smiled without showing her teeth and decided to share some quick advice with the young. “Anti-Semites, dear … you should use that term. A more formal, respected term.”

  Geraldine nodded, as Lilly reached out to hold her hand, which gave her some extra strength to keep going and to take one for the team. If she knew her friend, this would work beautifully. And it did.

  “Vivian—you look fabulous!”

  “Oh … stop!”

  “No, I won’t”

  “Ok, don’t,” Vivian giggled but suddenly felt awful about it as she knew that this was not the time and place to be so happy and to gush over superficial things, even though Lilly did say she looked fabulous. But maybe she shouldn’t have taken the compliment? This was a Shiva, for God Sakes. Time to switch gears and be there for the mourner. Be attentive and to listen. Let the mourner initiate the conversation. She heard that this was how you were supposed to behave at a Shiva visit. Or was she supposed to be happy? Sad? Offer a tissue? Vivian had no idea how to act.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss,” Vivian blurted out, as she knew that she had to say that line at some point.

  “Thank you. It’s a relief he is no longer suffering, but I feel like I lost my right arm.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Vivian sighed with relief that the conversation became very Shiva-like. All good now, and proper.

  “Twenty-five wonderful years … well, twenty-four …” Lilly said as they both walked toward the living room.

  “Oh, those peonies!” Vivian remarked. There you go again with the superficial shit, will you just shut up? Vivian thought to herself.

  “They are still fantastic!”

  “I told you!” Vivian said because it was true! Ah, where does it say that you can’t talk about pretty things while having a Shiva visit? At this point, Vivian decided to throw all the rules out the window and just relax. Lilly sat down on a Shiva chair while Vivian sat next to her on her mother’s couch, and their two heads immediately connected in conversation.

  Clusters of visitors continued to stand scattered around the house. One by one, Lilly’s children checked up on their mother to see if she was okay, especially her daughter, Corrine, the mother of Geraldine, who knew almost every detail of her time at Sunderland’s with Vivian. But so did Geraldine, as she picked up on everything like a sponge.

  Geraldine walked up to the two ladies, watching them converse. Her head moved from side to side like a tennis match.

  The ladies gabbed and gossiped like they were two teenagers. Topics ranged from the latest styles in pants:

  “Why are they coming back? Never looked good on anyone who ate more than a grape!”

  To politics:

  “Why is he in charge?”

  Travel experiences:

  “Someone should have explained ‘clothing optional’ to you.”

  Geraldine became bored of the conversation, and decided to go and find her mother, Corrine, who was in the kitchen.

  “I have decided that Vivian is a bitch.”

  “She’s not a bitch; she’s just direct.”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  “You know that Bubbe worked at Sunderland’s with Vivian for years. That’s where she met Popa. She said it was one of the best times of her life.”

  “Yeah, I know—but what’s the deal with them?” Geraldine questioned, wanting to learn more than what she already knew, if that was possible.

  “After Bubbe stopped working, I guess they kind of lost touch.” Like her mother, Corrine also didn’t like lying to her children, but in this case, she was. Several years ago, her mother confided in Corrine and told her all about the Travel Set, the burglars, the cat fight on the department store floor, and asked her daughter to keep the story to herself.

  “I don’t blame her; she’s a real bitch.”

  Corrine gave Geraldine a stern look and said, “Did you say something to annoy her?”

  “Maybe … you know, Bubbe isn’t the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s not Bubbe in there,” Geraldine said as she pointed toward the living room. “Something is different. She’s not herself.”

  “Aw, Bubbe is just sad. She just lost her husband.”

  “Yeah, but there’s something else” Geraldine said as she looked down to the kitchen floor.

  Corrine agreed with her daughter, as she didn’t know either. Mr. Sand called Corrine from his hospital bed, just before he passed and spoke about Lilly and Vivian’s time at Sunderland’s. How special their relationship was, and that it was spoiled for the wrong reasons. They had to get to the bottom of it. But when? How?

  “Look what I have!” Vivian reached into her purse to pull out a very familiar white paper bag.

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did!”

  “I’ll take one,” Lilly said as she reached into the bag to get herself a cookie, then held it up close to study it and sighed. “It’s amazing how this one little cookie can bring you back in time.” Lilly closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma that the cookie carried and took a small bite.

  “I know.”

  “Tell you a secret,” Vivian said, as Lilly’s eyes lit up. “These cookies—they have a secret ingredient—passionflower! It’s a natural alternative to valium.”

  “Well, I’ll be—that explains everything”.

  “It sure does.”

  “Ah, what the heck,” Lilly said as chewed the soft buttery goodness, that gave her that rush of euphoria once again, trying to take a deep breath to nurse the pang in her chest.

  “You betcha!” Vivian smiled and nodded, trying to do the same thing.

  Lilly’s Granddaughter Geraldine

  Embrace the unexpected that helps you see what you can’t.

  Geraldine didn’t even own a watch, but she knew what time it was. The same thing happened every morning at 10:30, and she wondered if anyone heard it. It was her stomach, and it was growling: she needed a snack. She stared at the clock on the wall. Finally, it rang, and Geraldine sprang out of her desk in search of the brown bag that had what she needed.

  Elated that she had her snack in hand, Geraldine went outside to the playground while she munched and enjoyed every bite of her Ritz Crackers. She felt the oily remnants of them on her fingers, which she planned to savor afterwards in the most discreet way. Licking your fingers, as she was told, was not the finest act of etiquette, but the devouring had to be done. The idea of washing away the minute crumbs that still carried such immense flavor down the school washroom sink was as wasteful as tossing out perfectly good leftovers that taste far better the next day.

  Geraldine looked around to make sure no one was watching and slowly turned to a wall in the playground and began to strategically lick the remains of the crackers from her fingers. She stopped a few times, walked to a different wall, and licked again. When all was done, a feeling of satisfaction and calm washed through her, and she thought about what to do next.

  Someone tapped her shoulder.

  “Want to play?” the Queen Leader (QL) asked, who was holding the coveted tool of the season—the Chinese Jump Rope. Such a racist name to call the toy, but that was what it was called at the time. With fierce green eyes, and a toothless grin, she stared at Geraldine as if she was her next meal.

  Geraldine’s caramel eyes glistened as she felt honored, excited, and wanted to go but was still nursing the scrape on her knee from her accident the other day. It was still red, slightly inflamed, and needed a Band-Aid, as a protective scab had not formed yet. Her fall was no one’s fault but hers. How was she to know that the rope was in her way as she walked back to the classroom?

  It crossed her mind that the rope could have been placed in her path on purpose, but she dismissed the thought because she so wanted to be QL’s friend, and the girls she hung out with.

  She wanted to be friends with them as they looked like they were having so much fun at recess. The latest games were played. Laughter that was so intense, some collapsed on the floor, while they held their stomachs. The boys chased them around. Gerladine witnessed from afar as it was more entertaining than what was on TV that night.

  The word on the street was that they had the best sleepovers with movie-style popcorn that was served in a special media room. Even though Geraldine had no idea what a media room was, she still wanted to go. She wondered if they served Ritz Crackers in that special media room and what would happen if she licked her fingers afterwards? She thought about it and decided that she would probably excuse herself and go to the washroom to continue her ritual.

  Full of hope, Geraldine nodded “yes” and followed QL and her posse as they walked with pride to a secluded area of the playground like a pack. Geraldine felt proud because she was there with THEM. Maybe they were testing her, she thought. Maybe they had suddenly realized that she was a smart kid and was fun to be with, and they would be kind. QL reached out to hold Geraldine’s hand when she asked her to come and play their game, which was such a comforting gesture, Geraldine thought.

  They picked a spot on the playground to set up. Everyone was in position.

  Two girls held the rope between both of their legs, and a generous space was created to play. The spectators were standing by, and Geraldine waited to begin, as she courageously volunteered to go first.

  Chinese jump rope was played by either jumping in, out, or on a stationary rope that completed a jumping pattern. A circular elastic rope was placed around two sets of legs that were spread apart where there was plenty of room for the player to perform a jump pattern. The challenges arose when the player progressed to the next level as the rope got placed above the knees and they had to jump higher. When it was placed around the ankles, which was the first level, anyone—well most anyone—can do it. If the player touched the rope with a body part or missed a step, they were considered “out”.

  Geraldine had confidence that she could do this, as she had done it many times before with Ellie and Michelle, her friends at school since day one. Quiet like her. Reserved like her. But she wanted to be with THEM, and this was why Geraldine was there with QL and her gang.

  Geraldine took a deep breath and jumped inside the rope with ease and then followed the rest of the pattern—out, side, side, on.

  “Out!” they all yelled in unison.

  She knew that was going to happen, as it always did. Every time Geraldine played with them.

  “But I didn’t make a mistake!” Geraldine pleaded, looking confused but knowing very well she was talking to a wall, as these girls knew what they were doing. She hoped maybe this time would be different.

  “Yes, you did! We all saw,” QL said, grinning, this time showing her teeth.

  Geraldine bowed her head down in defeat. She knew that she was right but couldn’t say how, as she didn’t know how to say it. Geraldine bit her lower lip until she tasted metal while she took the bait and stood by the side and watched the rest progress to more difficult jumping techniques and levels. She studied their faces. Each player was focused and took deep breaths before they began their turn. Some made a deep inhaling sound as they jumped, and others filled their cheeks with air and blew it out with force. Long hair was either swept up in a ponytail or hung loose while being tucked behind the ears. You could see their strands of hair bounce all over the place. Even yards away. How Geraldine wanted to show them she could do that all that, too.

  All who were around the game watched each player’s moves carefully, but there was always one or two girls who looked around the playground and saw what else was going on.

  Geraldine watched everybody all the time and was dreading when her turn would come up again. Why was she still there, taking the bait? The hope of acceptance into their group was a given, but also, she wanted to prove that they were wrong. That she was not out and never was. And she also wanted them to know that she was a nice person and fun to be with. Why couldn’t they see that?

  “Your turn.”

  After shaking her head to wake up to stimulate her focus, she gathered her strength and gave a response that was hard to do but needed to be done.

  “I’ll pass.”

  “It’s your turn!”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “You keep saying I’m out, but I know I’m not.”

  “Ok, ok—this time, we’ll really watch carefully!” said QL, who grabbed a chunk of her long red hair and slung it to her back.

  Geraldine narrowed her eyes as she recognized that QL slung her hair like that every time she got nervous, especially before the French exams, where she would also cry as well. Geraldine twitched her mouth while she wondered why she was suddenly nervous.

  QL glanced at her sidekick, who nodded with approval. Sidekick (SK) followed her every move. She had kinky, curly black hair, wore mostly black, and made sure everyone knew that she was in possession of eighty-nine pairs, and counting, of the hippest, coolest running shoes. She never wore the same pair twice. “You have THE BEST shoes!” someone would say, and SK would beam and respond, “I know.”

  Determined to hold onto a gleam of hope that they wanted to play with Geraldine and be her friend, she agreed to continue to play. Even though a suspicion was felt as something was going on that did not feel right.

  QL and SK stood across from each other with the thick elastic band wrapped around their ankles, while they waited for Geraldine to begin. She walked slowly up to the court and stood on one side, then took a deep breath to focus on her move, as she thought about where the best place to aim her first jump would be and where she should land. When Geraldine looked up to QL and SK, she saw QL smiling at the crowd around them and SK who looked straight ahead at the court, as she tapped her fingers on her thigh.

  Geraldine gathered all her strength and took a big breath before she jumped as high as she could in the air, while she maneuvered her legs exactly to land smack in the middle of the rope and softly on her feet. The rope did not budge. Not a single elastic hair was out of place. The rope looked frozen, as if it was left outside in the Arctic overnight. Geraldine stood proudly in the middle of the rope, waiting for the verdict. This time, two spoke at once.

  She should have known better.

  “Out!” they all sang together.

  Beauty’s 2.0

  On the Sunday morning, two weeks after the Shiva visit, where the conversation flowed like a steady stream with a huge tree branch stuck in the current, Vivian and Lilly made a date to have breakfast at Beauty’s—their favorite old hangout.