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Solomon’s Child

As told to Leah Gebber

I smiled at Mom when I got home. It had been a good Shabbos, after all. “Your teeth are yellow,” my mother said. I ran my tongue over my teeth. They did feel a little sticky. Come to think of it, I had forgotten to brush them after Shabbos and Sunday morning. Now it was Sunday lunchtime. I watched Mom’s face harden.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

For a year and a half, from the age of ten to eleven and a half, I saw the two people I loved most in the world destroy each other. Oh, not that they would stoop to something so low as hating each other. No, no. They were simply battling for what was best for me. I came up in every pseudo conversation. “It would be better for Talya if…” “Talya needs…” “I’m concerned that Talya…” None of it was for me. They never asked me what I wanted. The rage and viciousness and the attacks and the underhand, crooked means that they both used to be awarded sole custody were just ways to express their own anger and hurt. It roiled just beneath the surface, and the pressure was so great that at any available opportunity it hissed and spit and smoked through a fissure that had appeared on the surface.

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