I quickly pull the shower curtain back over my body. Keeping one hand on the curtain, I point to the sink again. "Wash, Matan, or I swear I'm telling your mom you don't clean your hands after peeing." Yes, I'm aware he doesn't know what my threat means, but it makes me feel better saying it.
Doda Yucky knocks on the door. "Amy, is Matan in there?"
"Yep. He sure is."
She opens the door, apologizes, and helps him quickly wash his hands before shooing him out. "I'm so sorry. I'll make sure he doesn't do that again."
Matan points in the general direction of my boob area hiding behind the curtain and says to his mother, "L'Amy yesh tzee-tzeem g'dokemf
DodaYndsy looks embarrassed as she says, "He doesn't mean anything by that."
"Uh huh." I'll just file that into the folder of embarrassing/humiliating moments in my life.
After my shower, I change into PJs and feel like a new person. At least a new person with scratched-up arms and a chin with racer marks on it.
"Is Avi back yet?" I ask Osnat. She's sitting on our safia's bed, looking at a photo album.
"No." Osnat, who's my age and will be in the Israeli army in a year, looks vulnerable and lost. "Safta always looked forward to your Saturday calls, you know."
"She never seemed tired of hearing about what was going on in my life." There aren't many people who like to hear the sound of your voice and are happy to listen to you, no matter what you're saying. Sofia is one of those people. Some kids hate talking to their elderly grandparents on the phone, but I can't wait until I wake up Saturday morning and can call my family in Israel.
"Here's a picture of us when we went to the Kotel, the Western Wall," she tells me. I move closer and look at the picture. It shows my aunt, my uncle, Sofia, and my two cousins pushing tiny pieces of paper into the cracks in the Wall.
I've read about the Wall, the only standing structure from the ancient Jewish Temple. It's also called the Wailing Wall because Jews mourn the destruction of the Temple and grieve while praying there. "What are you doing in this picture?" I ask her.
"Putting prayers into the cracks. It's customary to do that. People think God is closer there than other places, and will answer your prayers."
Oh, great. Why hadn't I known this sooner? I definitely think a trip to the Western Wall is in order. The only problem is that it's in Jerusalem, a few hours from the mosbav. In another picture, Matan is kissing the Wall while standing next to Sofia.
I sit on the edge of Sofia's bed, thinking how lucky Osnat is. Our grandma has lived with her since she was born. I know some teens would hate sharing their home with their grandparent, but I would have loved it. Especially my grandma, because she's sweet and kind and has definitely given me good advice when I asked for it (unlike my mother, who's a master at giving me unsolicited opinions, suggestions, and critiques).
"What is Safia really like?"
Osnat looks up and smiles. "Seriously, with Safia what you see is it. When I was younger we used to go out in the middle of the night when we both couldn't sleep and we'd sit on the edge of the mountain and talk... about nothing and everything."
"That's so cool."
"It was. And there's this area about a mile away where eagles fly over a ravine. We'd sit there for hours, talking about Israel and freedom and history." She wipes tears away. "I guess you kinda missed out by living in America. I always think you have it so easy, and I guess I get jealous of your material stuff." Osnat closes the album and sits up. "What's with you and Avi?"
"What's with you and O'dead?" I ask her, quickly changing the subject to her boyfriend. Israelis are not overly gushy or lovey-dovey types, and I'm afraid she'll make fun of me if I open up and really tell her how I feel about Avi. "Are you guys still dating?"
"O'dead and I broke up. He's dating Ofra."
"Wait. Isn't Ofra dating Doo-Doo?"
"She dumped him."
Wait a minute. "Your best friend stole your boyfriend?"
"Kind of. But I mover it."
I guess when Jessica started dating Mitch, Mitch and I were still technically a couple even though I'd already met Avi.
Teenage dating is definitely complicated. Before Avi and I met, my friends and I used to joke that marrying your high school sweetheart was an urban myth. No teen relationships I know of have lasted.
"You never answered about you and Avi."
"We had some issues. But everything's great now."
"Really?"
I think about Avi, and how I can't imagine him out of my life. I'm glad I decided to give us another chance, because I don't want to be an urban myth. I want us to be real. And being real means dealing with real issues (and drama, because my name is Amy Nelson-Barak and I can't avoid it).
I stand by the doorway to see if Avi is in the hallway. Nobody on the moshav locks their doors. Everyone is like family, so they just walk into each other's houses as if they live there. I can't imagine me just prancing into Mr. Ober-meyer's condo in our building without knocking. If he owned a gun, he'd shoot first and ask questions later.
"Shaloml Earth to Amy." I look over at my cousin, who's waving her hand at me. "Are you daydreaming about Avi again? Listen, since I'm not dating anyone, maybe next summer before my military service I'll come visit you in America to meet American boys. I'm sick of Israeli guys."