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February: The reviews are in! Painter Shira Levinson’s long-awaited second show has received almost universal acclaim from Philadelphia critics. Don’t miss her show at the… FWD: Hey fam—here’s the newsletter my gallery sent around about my show! They’re obviously exaggerating for their own benefit (“long-awaited”? That’s one way of putting it, lol. And there are only like two actual art critics in Philadelphia, and nobody in NYC or LA cares what they think) but it’s exciting anyway. Who knows how many pieces I’ll actually sell, but fortunately I’m not that worried about it anymore…

August: Hello, Talia’s friends! For those of you who don’t know me (I assume that is zero, considering how open and sharing Talia is ), I’m Talia’s beloved older sister, Shira. I’m getting the ball rolling on her bachelorette party this fall. She insisted on doing something within driving distance that wasn’t too expensive, so I’m thinking a Jersey Shore beach house (off-season, so we save money! Our mother would be very proud) or a drive up to Maine. Please let me know what you think about these options, or if you have something else in mind, I’m all ears…

From Leo David’s email inbox:

April: Hey Leo! Great to hear from you, man, though I haven’t stopped missing you at the desk next door (your replacement smells like everything bagels, and while you may think that’s a good smell, imagine smelling it all day, every day). I took a look at your new game as you requested. I loved it, but it might be a little too arty for us—hard to imagine teenagers playing it in waiting rooms or twentysomethings bingeing it in a weekend, you know?…

October: Dear Leo, Thank you for letting us know about your decision not to renew your lease. While we will miss you in the building, I’m glad to hear you’re moving in with your girlfriend. She’s been lovely every time we’ve crossed paths, and I wish you two all the best…

Epilogue

Year Eight

Hanukkah miracle number one: Even though Leo arrived late to the bakery to pick up the doughnut order, he and Shira didn’t have to break in again. The owner was locking up the back door when Leo hopped out of his car, panting and apologizing, and was kind enough to open the place back up so he could get his order.

“You look familiar,” said the owner, squinting, as Leo checked to make sure everything was there. Everything was—not a miracle; the bakery was just good at their job—so Leo turned his attention to the owner. Sure enough, the owner looked familiar, too. Leo clapped his hands together.

“Theo Kanelos! How are you, man?”

It took Theo a second to remember Leo’s name, but it turned out he did remember the daring chalk graffiti they’d left on the middle school blacktop (mostly penises). They spent a few minutes chatting and catching up, and when Leo checked his watch and told him he had to go, Theo slapped him on the back and threw in an extra dozen doughnuts for free.

Hanukkah miracle number two: When Shira had moved last year, lots of stuff had gone missing or gotten lost in transit. That included the Mensch on a Bench, who, even though he hadn’t had to cross the entire country, had somehow gone into hiding; Shira assumed that someone had seen him sitting on one of her boxes and thought it was funny or that maybe her parents had taken advantage of the chaos of the move to toss the creepy old thing. She’d tried to find a similarly unnerving one online, but no luck. Apparently he had only been sold by a few dollar stores for a short period of time and whoever was “lucky” enough to pick him up didn’t want to part with him or couldn’t part with him, thanks to some kind of curse, who knew. So she’d resigned herself to her creepy uncle not attending the party.

And then, this morning, she’d opened Talia’s old closet in search of past years’ decorations, and there was the Mensch, at eye level, grinning horribly in her direction with all his teeth—had they always been so pointy?—on display. Shira jumped and clutched her chest, nearly falling over, before she remembered she’d stuck it there after last year’s Hanukkah party to scare whoever went in next.

“Serves you right,” Talia said a few minutes later. She was sitting very still in the kitchen so that nothing would jar her wet nails (she’d insisted on black, but Shira had convinced her to stud a few with tiny fake diamonds and pearls to look more elegant).

“Yeah,” Shira said, sighing. She hadn’t painted her own nails despite the occasion; she didn’t like the feeling of polish on her fingers, and so what if people would judge her in the photos? She didn’t care.

Hanukkah miracle number three: Despite the eruption of a minor volcano somewhere in Southern Europe, Leo’s mom’s flight was not canceled, only delayed, which meant that she arrived at the airport the afternoon of the party. Leo met her in the arrivals lounge, sweaty and frazzled, with the doughnuts in the car, and laughed a little to see his mother sail out all polished and breezy after ten hours in the air. “I’m so glad you made it in time,” he exclaimed, kissing her on both cheeks in the way she’d come to expect.

She lowered her designer sunglasses and raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “It’s just a Hanukkah party, darling. We could celebrate another night.”

Leo exhaled a big breath of relief. “It’s the eighth night tonight. There are no other nights.”

“Still,” his mother proclaimed, slipping her sunglasses back on and patting her lipsticked mouth as she yawned (elegantly, of course). “Hanukkah isn’t an important holiday, you know.”

“I know,” Leo said and took another deep breath, kind of wishing she’d left her sunglasses down so he could see the look in her eyes. “But, actually…”

Hanukkah miracle number four: Despite all the latke and latke-topping taste testing Shira had done over the past few weeks, her dress still fit. She didn’t even have to suck in her stomach while Talia zipped up the back. She smoothed the shimmery ice-blue skirt and ran a hand over her long side braid. “You’re sure I don’t look too much like Elsa from Frozen?”

“You do look like a winter queen,” Talia said, brushing an imaginary piece of dust off Shira’s shoulder. Shira had found the dress at a vintage shop and fallen immediately in love with the gentle shimmer of the fabric, the lace sleeves, the low neckline that left room for a dramatic necklace. “But no, Elsa is extremely skinny and blond, with a tiny button nose and enormous anime eyes. You look beautiful, but you look nothing like Elsa.”

Impulsive hug time. Talia didn’t even bother grumbling about it.

Hanukkah miracle number five: Everybody was actually on time! That included Aunt Ellen, who was escorting Leo’s grandparents. It took them about twenty minutes to get out of the car and inch, very slowly, his grandpa with his cane and his grandma with her walker, up the shoveled front walk of Shira’s parents’ house. “I know it wasn’t an easy trip for you,” Leo said, leaning in to kiss all of them on the cheek. “Especially you,” he muttered to Aunt Ellen so only she could hear. She widened her eyes like she was flashing a siren. She had been a firm no on the trip until Leo spilled the real purpose of this party, and then she grudgingly assented, though she grumbled the whole time.

You’d never know it from the smile on her face, though. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick, brusque hug. He could feel the love in it, the sadness that she was the one here instead of his dad. And sure enough, Leo’s heart squeezed with pain. He wished his dad were here, and it wasn’t fair that he wasn’t, and he would probably never stop feeling that way.

But if there was one thing his relationship with his dad had taught him, it was that life was short, and it was precious, and you couldn’t count on it to be there forever, so you had to make things right with the people you loved when you still could.

And sometimes making things right didn’t mean making up. It meant—

“What does this mean, ‘Welcome to the wedding of Shira Levinson and Leo David’?” one of his former neighbors read in a quavery old-person voice. Shira’s parents had set up the engraved placards by the door so that guests wouldn’t be bewildered upon entering the living room and finding it filled with white plastic folding chairs, separated by an aisle leading to the sliding glass door. “I thought this was the Hanukkah party?”

Leo’s face was threatening to split in two. The wedding of Shira Levinson and Leo David. He felt like he’d waited his entire life to hear that phrase. And what was that saying? When you knew what you wanted for the rest of your life, you wanted the rest of your life to start as soon as possible? Something like that. That was what they’d told Shira’s parents and his mom, anyway, who were shocked given they’d been dating for less than a year. Leo wished again that his dad were there—he would’ve been so smug and full of I told you sos. “It’ll be a full year by the date of the wedding,” Shira had told them confidently, as if those extra few days made all the difference. “And we’ve been living together for months, and we’ve known each other our whole lives. We know what we’re doing.”

He hadn’t been able to help it: He’d scooped her up and twirled her around and kissed her, right there in front of her family. They’d all applauded, which was good. And then her mom had asked, a little doubtfully, “And that’s what you want? You want to get married at our house, during the Hanukkah party?”