The Big Nap Read Free

her right hand.
    “Bootiful,” Ruby said, reaching out a finger to touch it. “My mama only has a stinky old plain ring.” My daughter, Paloma Picasso Wyeth.
    “That’s my wedding ring, Rubes. It’s supposed to be plain,” I said.
    “Her wedding ring has sparkling gems,” Ruby answered, derisively.
    “Oh, that’s not my wedding ring,” the girl said with asmile. “I’m not married. My daddy gave me this for my sixteenth birthday.”
    “It’s lovely,” I said.
    “Is this your little brother?” she asked Ruby.
    “His name is Isaac,” Ruby said. “He’s a very bad baby. He cries all night long.”
    “Oh no. How can you sleep? Do you have to cover your ears?”
    “No. He sleeps in Mama’s room so he doesn’t wake me up.”
    Suddenly, we were interrupted by a loud voice.
    “Darling, what’s wrong?”
    I turned around to see the shop owner leaning over her counter. She was a middle-aged
baleboosteh
with round cheeks, deep-set eyes that were about half an inch too close together, and a bright blond wig perched on the top of her head. She motioned me over.
    “Come here, darling. Wipe your eyes.” She held out a box of tissues. I walked over to the counter, took one, and blew my nose loudly.
    “I’m so sorry. This is so ridiculous. Bursting into tears like this.”
    “Don’t be silly. Why do you think I keep a box of Kleenex on the counter? What’s wrong, darling? Did something happen to you?”
    “No, nothing happened. I have no idea why I’m so emotional. It’s just that I’m so tired. Isaac, that’s the baby, he never sleeps. He’s up all night and all day. I haven’t slept more than an hour straight in four months.”
    “Exactly like my brother Baruch! My brother Baruch didn’t sleep until he was three years old,” she said, with a snort.
    “Oh, my G—Oh no,” I said. “Please tell me this won’t last three years.”
    “Darling, it was awful, I can tell you. And my mother,
aleha ha-shalom
, wasn’t like you, she didn’t have just one other little one. She had four older. And then she had two more before Baruch shut his eyes.”
    “Did she survive?”
    “I’m telling you, none of us thought she would. I remember she said to my father,
alav ha-shalom
, ‘One more day of this and Baruch and I, we go over a bridge together. Over a bridge.’ She wasn’t kidding, I’m telling you.”
    I felt my voice begin to quiver again. “I don’t think I can stand three years.”
    Things had been a lot easier at home when Ruby was a baby. There were two of us to deal with her back then. When I’d gone back to work, Peter had even been Ruby’s primary caretaker. This time, it was different. When Ruby was a baby, Peter had been writing movie scripts and had at least some control over his schedule. A few weeks after Isaac was born, Peter sold an idea for a television series to one of the networks and was currently involved in shooting the pilot. As soon as that happened, it was as though he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. He showed up just in time to go to sleep and then slept like one of the corpses in his series (better, actually), until the next morning when he woke up and rushed off. I knew I should be supportive—after all, he was supporting
us
, financially at least—but it was hard not to be ticked off. I had, for all intents and purposes, become a single mother, and I resented every second of it. I’d been happier when he was working hand to mouth.
    “Darling, it sounds to me like you need some helparound the house,” the shopkeeper said, handing me another tissue. “Does your mother live nearby?”
    “No. In New Jersey.”
    “Ach. So far. What about your mother-in-law?”
    “Up near San Francisco.”
    “Sisters? Sisters-in-law?”
    “No. Nobody lives here. We’re all alone.” That set me off again and I buried my face in the tissue.
    “Okay, okay,
mamaleh.
Enough with the crying. You need to hire a babysitter.”
    “I can’t do that. I don’t work.