Chad Gadya

It's a Blintze . . . Or a Broxa

We ended up crashing underneath some bushes for the rest of the night and sleeping well past sunrise. When I woke up, I stretched and got up. My hair was once again tangled, but at least I had fresh clothes, though they made my skin itch.

       We finally got a break when we stumbled across another town. I was afraid it would end up being like Sodom, but my mother insisted we needed to rest a bit. "You two look exhausted," she said, her gaze anxious whenever she looked at Kuni or me. "This questing business is hard on you children; I'm sure it's a violation of child labor laws."

    Marzipan bleated. "And I know just how much you've been putting up with," my mother told her kindly.

    "Mother," I said. "You don't need to baby us. I'm a Jewish adult!"

    "Yeah," Marzipan agreed, "and I'm a prophetic goat."

    "You were just begging my mother for pity," I retorted.

    "Well, you can't hog all the sympathy," Marzipan shot back.

    "Girls," my mother said. "Come on."

     I rolled my eyes at Kuni, but remained quiet as we walked through the streets. Alexandros smiled and stopped suddenly. "What is it?" I asked.

    They pointed at a sign in Russian. "It's a restaurant."

     "But we don't have money," Kuni pointed out.

     "Never mind," Alexandros said. "Perhaps they'll exchange food for a story."

***

    To my surprise, they did. Alexandros looked immensely pleased as a waitress bustled around, bringing us a variety of Russian dishes. There was borscht, cheesy blintzes, and a sweet kugel to round it up. Looking at it made me feel like the adults when Yom Kippur was over.

    While we ate, Alexandros was speaking animatedly in Russian. I'm not sure what they were saying, but the waiters and customers alike hung onto their words. As they spoke, they flourished their hands. I leaned over to whisper in Kuni's ear. "I didn't know Alexandros was the next great orator."

     "He's like Cicero," Kuni said.

      "The guy who got stabbed in the senate?" I asked.

     "No," Kuni said, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "That's Caesar."

When Alexandros finished their story, the owner of the restaurant gave us so a bag of blintzes to eat later. Alexandros thanked them in Russian and we went on our way. "I think I'll study Russian in middle school," I decided.

     "A good decision," my mother commented.

      "Yeah, I wanna be able to order blintzes without Google Translate," I replied.

We had just left the town when Marzipan gave a high-pitched bleat and leaked into my arms. "What's wrong, girl?" I asked as I stroked her soft head.

Marzipan gave another high-pitched bleat and then buried her head in my chest. "What's wrong?" I repeated.

She said nothing, trembling in my grip. "Umm, Breina," Kuni said. "I think I know what's scaring Marzipan."

    I followed their gaze to look at a broxa standing ten feet away from us. "They live in Russia too?" I asked incredulously.

"They live anywhere where goats live," Marzipan said.

    "It will be alright," I said, trying to soothe my goat.

      "No it won't!" Marzipan said. "The broxa will catch me and drain me of blood and then I'll never enjoy the comforts of a hot bath again!"