Parents always say that they don’t have favorites, but Christina knows this is bullshit. Of Ruth, Moses, and Levi, it was Levi who had stolen her heart from the first time their eyes met. 

Meanwhile, it had been her older brother who was the clear favorite in her family. He was the golden child who could do no wrong and who grew into the golden adult who could do no wrong. Especially in her mother’s eyes. Christina had always taken the silver. Maybe she didn’t get top billing, but it was better than the award given to her youngest brother, Louis. He was never even a contender for the bronze. The quintessential ‘problem child’ since he came home as a squirmy blue bundle from the hospital, he was in military school by the age of 11 when there was nothing more that any of the therapists, doctors, teachers, tutors, specialists, or spiritual gurus (and there were a few) could conjure to save him from himself. 

This was compounded by the fact that her father had no room in his crowded life at that point for additional worry. Having divorced Christina’s mom when Louis was 9 (and Christina was 11), he didn’t waste any time adding two new stepchildren to his menagerie. While they never stole Christina’s silver, they quickly tied for the bronze that was denied Louis. At least, as far as her father was concerned. 

Christina had watched her parents struggle to reconcile their choices when it came to Louis. And then eventually, their marriage. Her mother’s overriding inclination for survival made her a fierce fighter. Meanwhile, her father’s gossamer vision of immortality rendered him an impractical dreamer much of the time. The third child who was supposed to make the family complete instead accentuated these differences and pulled them apart.

“He frightens me,” Christina heard her mother say in a low voice one night behind their bedroom door when Louis was getting ready to enter kindergarten. “He has this… distant look. Like he’s not all there.”

“He’ll grow out of it,” her father had said in way that even Christina knew was dismissive at the time. She’d had the same experience of feeling that disconnect from her younger brother – though she hadn’t been scared of him. Yet.

“I don’t think he will,” she said, desperation in her voice. “It’s like he’s fearless.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” her father laughed. “Would you rather he be a scared little mama’s boy who clings to you all day?”

“Of course not,” her mother sighed. “But you’re not listening to me,” she said, her voice a little louder. “He doesn’t understand consequences.”   

“He’ll grow out of it,” he said again slowly, annunciating each word this time as though her mother didn’t understand. But she did understand.  

So she gave up. Eventually, her father did too. 

And Louis did not grow out of it. It turned out that the fright her mother had felt early on would be tragically justified.

“You ready to go?” Christina hears her husband calling from the other room and she’s relieved to be drawn back into the present moment. She puts the finishing touches on her makeup and walks out to the living room. Her husband is sitting on the couch, Levi next to him.  

“Wow!” he smiles. “You look fantastic.”

She feels herself blush. “Stop,” she says, yet ever grateful that he still regards her as beautiful; even as each of them approaches their 60th year. They’ve been the best of friends for such a long time. As she glances at him and Levi on the couch, her heart feels as though it might break from all the love. She knows it’s cheesy. But she presses her hand over her heart trying to feel for the jagged edge of that broken heart beneath her flesh. 

“Ready?” he asks again.

She nods and takes a deep breath thinking about the night ahead; about the reward she’ll be receiving for the tireless work she’s done in their community; about how wonderful it feels to have the means and the inclination to help so many families become whole again. And to be a part of all of them. She then thinks about her mother and realizes how fortunate she’s been to have the luxury of time and self-study over the years that her mother never did. Of course, it was a conscious choice she made. And it’s a choice she’s never regretted – despite how often she was told the contrary. 

As her husband and Levi rise from the couch, he asks, “Did you feed the skittish Yiddish?” 

She smiles. “Of course I did.” The skittish Yiddish is her husband’s name for Ruth and Moses who stay hidden whenever Christina is not home. Levi, by contrast, must always be the center of attention. In a way, he’s a little like Louis was. But also, not at all. “Need I remind you that I’m one badass childless cat lady?”

Her husband smiles. “Never.”