Started With a Bris, Ended With a Bang

When the day of The Event finally dawned, Sydney woke to the sight of her mother hauling cartons labeled Kosher Mart up to her deck and shouting directions to Sydney’s father as he followed her with even more cartons and bags. When Sydney came out to greet them, toothbrush in hand, wondering what time they had started, Goldie declared, “I was worried that you couldn’t get the good stuff here in God’s Country. So I bought a little extra, just in case. Ah good, I can use this tray? It’s fleishig?” Sydney nodded dumbly and watched Goldie upend a box of hot dogs onto the largest tray she owned.

Some hours later, sitting on her back porch, Sydney was high as a kite.  She hadn’t been this wasted since college. She stared at the pounds of potato, cole slaw, and macaroni salad, the mountain of hot dogs and hamburgers, the platters of corned beef and pastrami, the industrial sized jars of ketchup and mustard, the cartons of coke, diet and regular, and one lone six pack of beer cluttering the table on her screened-in deck.  She watched her Aunt Mildred pile yet another slice of beef on top of the salad monument she had just finished sculpting.  Mildred took three steps backward before lowering her ample backside directly into her seat without upsetting a single item on her plate. The move displayed her years of training. The heaping mess of mayonnaise, potato and beef had barely budged. Remarkable.  Sydney was about to award her a perfect 10 when Mildred ruined it all by calling out, “Zolly, oy, I forgot. Bring me a soda, would you tatela?  Be a good boy.”

Zolly.  It was his fault that the world around Sydney was slipping in and out of focus.

When he had arrived a few hours into Goldie’s manic preparations, Sydney jumped into his car to show him the spot by the lake where he could park. That was when he’d whipped out the joint, and after he and Nancy toked away they turned to offer it to Sydney.  Not wanting to be a buzzkill, but wondering, worrying really, about the effect on their still nameless, oddly unobtrusive toddler strapped into the carseat alongside her, Sydney took her first hit of pot in years. Suppressing her concern about the baby, she took another hit, and another.  Then she came back home to face her family barbecue.

Sydney grabbed another of Esti’s cookies.  She had the munchies. Even so, she wasn’t coming close to eating what the rest of her extended family was packing away.  She turned away from the cookies and caught whatshisname with his camera lining up another shot. Of her crotch. He’d been doing that all day.  Maybe she shouldn’t have worn a bathing suit? The point was for everyone to go to the lake, but so far nobody had ventured too far from the table.

At least Michael wasn’t here.  Sydney had told him about this party, and though she assured him that he was, of course, invited, she also warned him that unless he wanted to suffer the Jewish Inquisition, which would make the Spanish one seem like a weak opening act, he shouldn’t come. Just then a car pulled up.  Sydney counted heads, trying to figure out who hadn’t arrived yet. She looked down at the driveway and watched Michael emerge from his car.  Clearly, there was only one thing to do. Sydney grabbed a beer.

Goldie, flanked by Mildred and Sadie, collected at the top of the stairs to stare at Michael. They moved as one when roused to action. Unfortunately, besides blocking Michael from entering, they were also preventing Sydney from exiting.  She ran into the house and down the steps that led to the other entrance.  She stepped out onto the driveway and grabbed Michael’s arm.

“Are you nuts? You came?”

“I wasn’t gonna miss it.” Michael’s smile was lazy, and Sydney felt an unexpected rush between her legs.  She remembered that pot made her horny as well as hungry. She pulled him into the small downstairs entryway, threw her arms around his neck and pressed the entire length of her body against his.

“I can’t believe you’re here. They’re all crazy.  And I’m fucked up.”

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