When we step into Nathan's condo, he turns to me. "Will you please change your shirt, it's got snot all over the sleeve. As your friend, I just want to be honest with you."
I look down at my snot-encrusted shirt. It is grotesque. "I'll be right back," I say, then trot over to my door.
I change my shirt and go back to the Keeners' place. When we're in Nathan's room, we hang out on his bed and dig into a tub of ice cream.
I look at Nathan. If you look past his geeky attire, you can see that he could possibly be cool. With a LOT of help.
"What are you looking at?" he asks, turning to me with his bright green eyes.
"I was just thinking that you don't have to dress different to appease your aunt and uncle. You should be yourself. If they kick you out for being you, well...I'm sure you could come live with me and my dad."
"We could be like brother and sister?"
"Yeah," I say, totally serious and meaning every single word. "Like brother and sister. And friends... great friends," I say, taking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.
Those green eyes are starting to water.
"Nathan, are you crying?"
One lone tear falls down his cheek. "Yeah." He looks down and swipes the tear from his face. "I haven't had a sibling in a long time, Amy."
I hug him. To be honest, I think it's the first sisterly hug he's had in years.
"Do you really play the guitar?" I ask him, eyeing the black leather case on the floor while I try and lighten the mood.
"Used to be in a band, but it's kind of tough being a member of a group when you move as often as I have."
Picking up the guitar, I hand it to him. "Play something for me."
"Like what."
"A song. For me."
"Do you want me to make it up?"
"If you can."
"Okay... let's see. I'll call it 'My Sister Barbie.'"
24
***
Tzedakah is the commitment a Jew makes to give charity.
Tzedakah doesn't have to be all about money. It can be doing mitzvahs (good deeds) for others less fortunate, too. My friend Nathan needs a little Tzedakah thrown his way.
***
I bring Nathan to my mom's house in Deerfield the next morning for moral support. Last night Nathan convinced me to be honest with her and Marc about questions I have concerning the new baby.
My mom rushes out of the house and hugs Nathan. I think her emotional hormones are in overdrive. "Avi, it's so nice to finally meet you," she says with a big smile. "Amy's told me so much about you."
"Mom--"
"How are you liking being in our big city?" she says, ignoring me. "Amy must be showing you a grand old time."
"Mom, this isn't Avi."
"It's not?"
"No. It's Nathan. Nathan, this is my mom," I say as I unleash Mutt and let him loose in my mom and Marc's house.
"Oh. I thought his name was Avi."
"No, his name is Nathan. Avi is another guy."
"Then where's this Avi?"
"I don't know."
"Oh. Well, Nathan, why don't you come in and have lunch with us."
While we're eating lunch in the kitchen, Nathan kicks me under the table. It's my cue to start bringing up issues I've been avoiding. "When the baby is born, where's it going to sleep?"
My mom looks to Marc. "In our room, at first."
"Well, we only have two bedrooms because the third is used as an office," Marc chimes in.
"What are you asking?"
"Well, I don't want to be sleeping on the couch when I stay here. I want to keep my room. I may not live here permanently, but I still want a room when I visit. It's important to me."
"Can't you share one with the baby?"
I raise my eyebrows and chuckle. "I'm a teenager. Like I really want to share a room with someone in diapers."
Marc puts his fork down while he thinks. "Maybe I can move the office into the basement."
"There's no windows down there and little ventilation, Marc," Mom coos. "What about your allergies?"
"Amy has a point about the room situation. I can take my allergy medicine before I go down there. Is that fair? You keep your bedroom and the baby will get the office."
I guess Marc isn't such a bad guy, after all. He just needs to get used to having a daughter like me around...and a dog like Mutt. Maybe I should suggest he take his allergy medicine every day.
My mom sits up straight, or as straight as she can with a protruding belly. "As long as we're making concessions, how about if I request one of my own?" she says.
I brace myself. "Shoot."
"After the baby's born, you babysit one weekend night a month. Changing diapers and all."
"Fine. But if it pukes all over my clothes you're paying for the dry cleaning."
"It's a deal."
After lunch, the four of us sit and play Scrabble.
"So...are you two an item?" my mom asks before one of her turns.
"We're just friends," Nathan blurts out.
"Yeah," I confirm. "Just great friends."
Marc wins Scrabble by a landslide with a triple word score with the word zareba. We all challenged him and he won. Zareba is a word, if you can believe it. Then Nathan and I take Mutt for a walk around the block before we head back to the city. It feels good to have Nathan as a friend, to give me the guy perspective on stuff.