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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Trip Number Five, Chapter Number One

While I was at The Conversation in Baltimore, I read the few existing chapters from the novel I hope to write. The feed back was very encouraging, so I’m planning on working on it while I’m in Israel. Yep, I’m going back. I have a few webinars and workshops to attend to while I’m in town, but a big part of the trip will be writing. It isn’t NaNoWriMo, because I’m not starting from scratch, but I do hope to add serious amounts of text to my draft.

Here’s chapter one of my as of yet unfinished novel.

The Matzah Holiday

“Why didn’t you tell me this was the matzah one?” I said to Aaron as we waited for the cab to come.

“I thought you knew.”

“How would I know? How would I know? You said we were going to a seder, you didn’t say we were going to big important matzah dinner!”

Aaron and I got into a cab outside of his parents house, drunk after four glasses of wine at his parents seder. I was nursing a bruised ego and hurt feelings from the things I overheard his mom and aunt say from the kitchen. Oh, and there was one little faux pas.

“You could have told me not to bring dinner rolls.”

“Sweetie, I really thought you knew. And if you’d met me at my house before, I could have stopped you.”

“For future reference when I say, ‘should i bring something?’ the appropriate response is more like ‘the food rules are insane, why I don’t I take care of it’ instead of, ‘sure, mom will appreciate that.'”

Aaron leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. He pulled me closer on the cab and whispered, “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was Passover and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you not to bring dinner rolls. You’re the first… well, you know, the first…”

“Shiksa.”

“I wasn’t going to say it that way.”

“Your mom didn’t have any problems saying it.”

“Trace, she’ll realize how great you are. I promise, she’ll see that it doesn’t matter.”

“What other rules should I know for surviving in your family?”

“I can’t think of anything else.” Aaron paused, “Other than don’t bring those bacon wrapped figs that you make, that wouldn’t fly.”

The cab got to my house and I asked Aaron if he was sure he didn’t want to stay over. “Thanks, but I need to go help my mom tomorrow and go to the second night seder at my synagogue…. you know, just stuff going on.”

He hugged me again, kissed me good night and got back into the cab to head from my less-than-fashionable Ravenswood apartment to his slightly more fashionable address in Lincoln Square.

Aaron and I had only been together a couple months and we’re already my longest relationship. Aaron was more of a serial monogamist. He was with Rachel for close to three years, but things came tumbling down when she and his mom ganged up on him about getting married. He’s not just my longest relationship, but my first Jewish boyfriend, which until tonight wasn’t an issue. I got inside and dropped everything on the couch, including myself. That wine hit me harder than I expected. 


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