Ought To & Can (A San Francisco Fable)

Part II: Can--Chapter 15

One reason Sabrina wasn't eager to become an Orthodox wife is that she wasn't a great cook, and she wasn't in a hurry to improve, either. She was at one point in her girlhood excited to help her mom, but recipes just struck her as so much bobbemyseh: jumbles of measurements and ingredients. Sabrina would try, but she'd always get something wrong. Proportions or undercooking or overcooking. Eventually by mutual silent agreement, Sabrina's cooking was limited to putting bagels in the toaster or turning over latkes in the pan.

May wasn't an accomplished cook, but she could do it. She'd been working her way through Hip Kosher: 175 Easy-to-Prepare Recipes for Today's Kosher Cooks and was on Roasted Pistachio-Crusted Salmon with a side of green beans this nippy January night.

"Remember my cousin Joel you met a while back?" asked May.

"Yeah."

"We should invite him over for dinner. I saw some sparks between you and him"

"It didn't seem like to me he was into the idea of us as a couple."

"Oh, you know men. You have to force them figure out what's best for them." Then May smiled enthusiastically. "Wouldn't it be cool if you and him got married? We'd actually be family from then on. And I could find a man, and we could get married at the same time. Same day, if you wanted. Have babies at the same time. Tend the babies at the same time."

Sabrina had to think hard to choose her words. Why is May bringing up all this stuff?—

BUZZ-BUZZ

Who could be visiting them at this hour? Sabrina volunteered to answer the door.

Standing on the other side was Beth Himmelschein, holding a suitcase and a couple other bags.

"I know this is really short notice, but do you have anywhere I can sleep? Even a sofa." Beth seemed nervous, yet also relieved.

"We have a recliner in the living room."

"Perfect!"

"No," quickly backtracked Sabrina when she remembered who she was talking to. "I could take the recliner, you can have my bed, if it's just for tonight."

"It's gonna be for a while," said a regretful Beth.

###

As May poured coffee for all three women, Beth explained, "There was an argument. We were shouting, but that was the climax of the discussion. We weren't arguing the whole time. It got pretty heated, but by the end we cooled down and we both agreed that this was the end of the marriage, and I volunteered to leave. And your father said 'No, I can leave, you can stay here.' And I said 'Fred, you're the one who wanted this house. It's your house. I didn't want to live here, but I wanted you to be happy. Keep it.'"

"Why were you arguing? Is it Kendra?" asked a crestfallen Sabrina.

"Kendra's arrest relit the fire, but it's been smoldering for years."

"What do you mean?"

Beth let out a Pacific Ocean-sized sigh. "You're the first of the kids to hear about this. I'll have to tell everyone else later, but you should know first. Around when you were a senior at Sloat-Bushnell, your father and I both broke the commandment against adultery. We didn't do it to hurt each other. It just—happened. We made bad choices, then made more bad choices to cover up the first bad choices. You're married 31 years and maybe it's not most solid foundation for a marriage, you get restless. You start looking look at the probation officers."