Lauren Takes Leave by Gerstenblatt, Julie (ebooks children's books free txt) 📕

don’t want to be anadministrator. That’s one of the things I realized this week. I wouldabsolutely hate to be Martha. I am terrible with scheduling andoverseeing a budget. I don’t want to have to discipline people. I just wantto…”

“To what?”

“Fold T-shirts at the Gap?” I joke.

“Lauren!” The way he says my name makes me feel like I’vejust been scolded by my father.

“Why is okay for Kat and not for me?”

“Um…let’s see.” He’s angry now, and the car jerks sidewaysas he takes one hand off the steering wheel to count reasons on his fingers. Iclutch the underside of my bucket seat and keep my wide eyes staring at theroad. “Number one: you have a Harvard education.”

“Smart people can work in retail.”

“Not you. Number two: Kat is in crisis. Her husband is adick and her marriage is falling apart.”

“Maybe I’m in crisis, too!”

He puts both hands back on the wheel and turns to me, hiseyes dark and unreadable. “Are you?”

I take a deep breath. “No,” I say, feeling stupid. “I justneeded a break. A mini vacation from my monotonous, tenured life. A small leaveof absence. But I’m back now.” I feel a wave of regret pass over me as I admitthis.

It’s really Sunday, after all.

“Kat also told off the principal. Right?”

“Yes,” I concede.

“And it wasn’t the first time?” Doug would make a goodprosecuting attorney.

“Like maybe just four other times?” I say in a smallvoice.

“So she’s in deep shit.”

“Deep Shit, Arkansas,” I agree, laughing to myself. Douglooks at me funny. “It’s a line from Thelma and Louise.” I wave my handdismissively. “Forget it. Inside joke.”

We arrive at the cemetery and park behind the other cars.Kat joins us, and we walk together toward the burial site. The grass is softand wet and the heels of my boots keep getting stuck. Doug holds a massiveumbrella over the three of us and we huddle underneath.

“I’m thinking bakery,” I whisper to her. “You need to workin a place that smells comforting. Kneading dough and puff pastry is a way toheal.”

“I’m thinking that Leslie’s going to stuff me into an ovenand fry me like in Hansel and Gretel.”

“She gave you the death stare, too?”

“No, on the way to our cars, she said, ‘I’m going to stuffyou in an oven and fry you, like in Hansel and Gretel.’”

“That’s pretty clear, then.”

“Yeah. I’m safe for the moment, though. I don’t think shefollowed us to the cemetery.”

Sonia’s plain pine box is already suspended over the deephole of earth. We say a few prayers—well, Doug and I say them and Kat gives ahearty “Amen” at the end of each—and then the coffin gets lowered slowly downon a mechanical platform. Which is weird to watch and somber all at the sametime.

Jodi is crying now, as is her mother and father, and herdaughters and even Lee. I didn’t know Sonia, but I know what it’s like to loseyour grandparents. I mourn for Jodi’s family and I mourn for Sonia. Her lifeseems like it was filled with love and rich with interesting opportunities, andI guess that’s all we can ever hope for. To live long, and to live well.

The sound of a cell phone ringing in close proximity to mejars me from my silent contemplation. Kat jumps and fumbles for the offendingphone in her coat pocket.

“Turn that off,” Doug whispers.

“I’m fucking trying,” Kat says through clenched teeth.

When she looks at the caller ID, however, her eyebrowsraise and she pushes a button on her screen. “Hello?” she whispers, steppingaway from the crowd and our protective umbrella. She moves quickly under a treea few feet away and continues talking on her cell as Doug and I and the entireMoncrieff-Goldberg family watch incredulously.

Rabbi Cantor clears his throat and regains the group’sattention. “Now we have reached the point in the service that represents thefamily’s final act of honoring their deceased loved one. “Al mekomah tavobeshalom,” he says, then hands a trowel to Jodi’s father, to spill some dirtonto the coffin.

This part of a Jewish funeral always gives me the creeps.I shudder inwardly and watch as the spade is passed to Jodi’s mother and thento Great-Aunt Elaine.

“She shaves her what?” Kat calls out from under thetree. “No fucking way!”

I continue to cringe and shudder, but not because of thesound of spilled earth on a plain pine box. Doug coughs and I take out sometissues and sniff into them, as we try and cover the sounds of Kat’s wickedcackle.

The service ends a minute later and people make their wayback to their cars. “Shivah will be held today at the Moncrieff home inElmwood, and then for the remainder of the week at the Goldbergs’ apartment inQueens,” the rabbi says.

Kat meets us on the hill as the crowd disperses. Sheshakes her damp curls out like a dog coming in from the rain and splatters mewith water as she ducks back under my umbrella. “Subtle,” I say. “Holy.”

“Holy shit.” Kat is grinning from ear to ear. “You haveno idea.”

Chapter 37

As much as I’d like to hear the details of Kat’stelephone conversation, my priority right now is to get out of the rain, whichhas crossed over from light drizzle to heavy downpour.

“Tell me later!” I shout over my shoulder as I break awayfrom Kat and the rest of the crowd and make my way behind Doug to our car.

“But…it’s important!” Kat calls back. “And really funny!”

“I can live with the suspense!” I say, shooing Kat back toher own car.

Doug’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket. A shadowcrosses his face as he looks at the screen. “Gotta take this,” he says. “Work.”He presses the phone to his ear and slides into the driver’s side, slamming thedoor shut.

I’m about to go around to the other side of the car when Irealize that I haven’t said good-bye to Jodi. There is a black limousine a fewcars ahead of ours, so I decide to knock on the window and wave a quickfarewell from under my umbrella.

The black tinted glass slides down a few inches. A handemerges, holding a fedora.

That’s not Jodi’s, I think.

“No way!” I