Family Don't Break

CHAPTER 16

ALEX'S POV:

The house smells like candle wax and latkes, the fresh scent of bread flowing out of the oven. Candles are lit, the hearth hot and warming the room. It feels magical. My mother is standing in front of the oven, balanced on her crutches. A thick white cast covers her leg, causing her to lean to one side. She flips the latkes in the pan and the oil sizzles, some jumping into the air.

"Alex, can you open the window for me? I need to get some of these fumes out." I nod and walk over, pushing the window open a bit. Cold air flows through, making me shiver. "Alex!" I look down and see Jack waving from below. "Hold on, I'll come let you in!" I shout. I run out the door and down the stairs, startling a young woman holding a bucket of water.

I throw open the door and walk out. Jack is standing there in a nice white shirt, his vest clearly washed. "Hey," he says nervously. He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, messing up the careful part. "I hope I look okay, I borrowed a shirt from Davey and he said I should brush my hair and-"

"You look perfect." I give him a quick kiss and grab his hand, pulling him up the stairs. I hold the door open for him and he enters. I follow behind him. "Jack, my dear! So good to see you!" my mother coos, limping over. "How are you, Miss Rachel?"

"I'm wonderful. And please, call me Rachel." She smiles and takes a seat at the table. "David, can you serve the latkes please? And the challah is still in the oven, Alex can grab that." We do as she says, serving up the different dishes. I place the challah on the special china plate we have for it, decorated with flowers and words in yiddish. The latkes sit on a silver tray, still steaming. A plate of fish sits off to the side and the bowl next to it holds some soup.

Jack and I take our seats at the table and my mom immediately starts filling our plates. Jack tries some of the challah and sighs in delight. "This is delicious," he says. My mom thanks him, enjoying the praise.

My parents tell stories as the dinner continues. I've heard them all a million times, but I love them nevertheless. "When I was a girl, we lived in a shtetl. Everyone there was like family, we knew everyone's business. I remember the weddings, we would get together and have the most fantastic party. I still remember the energy and the dancing, the food and the singing."

Jack listens, his eyes wide. My parents paint a picture of what their homes looked like, tell tales of their escapades and adventures.They choose to leave out the bad. Now is a time for laughter and joy, not sadness and grief. That will come another time.

Once dinner is over, my father brings out the sufganiyot. The powdered sugar gets everywhere, a white dusting of sweet snow. The jelly is still warm inside the dough and the sugar sticks to my tongue. I love sufganiyot. It's one of my favorite treats.

Once the sun has finally set, it's time to light the menorah. We gather around the table and my father positions the candles. "Would you like to do the honors?" He hands the matches to Jack. Jack lights the leader candle, the flame dancing on the wick. Then I slowly light every other candle. Jack does his best to follow as we sing. Our voices are not on tune or together, but it is beautiful nonetheless. "aruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah."

The candles reflect in the window, a duplicate set of melting wax and flame. My parents hand me a small gift wrapped in brown butcher paper. I unwrap it neatly, taking care not to rip the fabric. Inside is a book. It's not new, but that makes it all the more beautiful. The fabric cover is worn, the white letters dirtied. The pages are dog eared and the spine is frayed. "Thank you. It's perfect." I hug it to my chest and inhale the scent of old paper.

I place it down and reach into my pocket, pulling out a little cardboard box. "I know you don't celebrate hanukkah, but I got you something anyway." I hand it to Jack and he opens it, pulling out the brand new set of charcoal pencils. "Thank you." his voice is breathless, his hands gently cupping them. "I thought you might need a new set, your others were worn down to nubs." I chuckle.

We sit around the table again, and Jack leans over to whisper to me. "If your parents weren't here, I would be kissing you silly." I blush, gently whacking his leg. "You can do that later." I whisper back.

In the floors below us, everything is normal. No candles, no menorah. But here, in this room, there is warmth and love and happiness. Things are just the way they should be. This memory will be one I will always remember fondly, no matter what may happen in the future. Moments like these are the moments we live for, the ones we think about in our darkest days. You feel the joy in your heart, and it's the best feeling in the world.