The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah Read Free Page A

had to sing in Hebrew, I was so glad it wasn’t me. At the same time, I kind of felt like maybe it should be me.
    Or at least, it could be.
    Nana, how could you be too Jewish when I am barely Jewish at all?

4
    I Would Have Been Nicer
    Had I known my last visit with my grandmother was going to be my last, I think I would have been different. I would have tried to remember everything, set it in my brain, and held on to it.
    I would have remembered to thank my grandmother for the terrific lunch at Gold’s Deli because, for one thing, a chocolate egg cream is the most delicious drink in the whole wide world. It is sweet and milky and has the bite of soda all in one. The top is frothy and the bottom is thick with the unstirred syrup. And it comes in a big, tall glass, so full they bring it to you with a little plate underneath.
    I would have asked her about her family. I would have listened better to her stories. I would have asked her about her mother. About her father, about where he was from. What did he do for a job? And what about all her brothers and sisters?
    Maybe I would have asked her about Poppy.
    When did they meet? How did they fall in love? Did she know about his family? How they disapproved? Did she know my new aunt Gert?
    And after our lunch, after Poppy and Sam went back to the apartment and I went with Nana to her doctor’s appointment, I wouldn’t have done what I did. I never would have done what I did if I had known how sick she was.
    Even though she told me later she wasn’t mad at me.
    I would never have hurt her feelings the way I did.
    Â 
    The appointment had taken a long time. It was hot in the waiting room and they had boring magazines. It was good to be in the fresh air, even if it was New York City. It was only a few blocks’ walk back to my grandparents’ apartment. My nana said it would do her good. She wanted to take my hand, but I didn’t feel like it. I was a little jumpy. I looked up at the tall buildings, and at the sidewalk and all the people I didn’t know.
    And suddenly, I just wanted to try it out.
    I wanted to walk without my grandmother in the streets of New York, on Lexington Avenue, so people would think I was by myself. I wanted to look like I was old enough to be alone. I wanted to see what it felt like to be a grown-up, just for a little bit, in a little way. So I stopped walking, quietly, before my nana could notice, and before I knew it she was almost a half a block ahead of me. For a second I got scared. She was too far away. What if she turned the corner and I couldn’t see which way she went?
    â€œWhy are you back there, Caroline?” My nana turned and looked at me.
    But I didn’t even answer her.
    I couldn’t respond to a perfect stranger, could I?
    â€œCaroline?” she called out again, and then, I guess, she gave up. I followed behind her, far enough to look like we weren’t together at all.
    Here I was, just walking by myself down the block. People passed me in both directions, couples and single woman, and a man walking his dog. Two teenagers smoking cigarettes.
    And me, Caroline Weeks, whoever that was.

5
    Half and Half
    In my house, we are both, I like to say. I’m half-Jewish, half-Christian, whenever someone asks. I guess to be honest it was a little more half and half when I was younger, when I first started nursery school and first met Rachel. We both went to the Jewish Community Center. Not because my mother wanted to introduce more religion into our lives. She didn’t. My mother is not a big believer in things she cannot see or hear or prescribe medicine for.
    My going to the JCC had more to do with how close it was to our house.
    But we still had Christmas every year. My dad bought a tree and we hung stockings on the mantel by the fireplace. We had eggnog, which my mother said was too fattening but Sam and I loved. We left cookies for Santa, and we could barely sleep Christmas Eve.
    But we also