Page 151 of Legally Yours
“I think that has more to do with them being kids’ books than because of their robes,” I replied with a chuckle. “Besides, Harry gets around in the last few books. Didn’t he have, like, ten girlfriends?”
“True. A few were Asian too. So, for the wizard contingent, I guess these robes might say ‘come hither,’ eh?” Jane reached behind her ear and tipped her glasses up several times, imitating a Groucho Marx impersonator. “Ooh, Harry.”
We fell apart laughing, clutching at the edges of the countertops.
“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Jane said. “I can’t believe this is it. After today…we’re done.”
I grimaced. “Aw, Janey, you’re getting all mushy on me, aren’t you?”
She reached out and smacked me on the shoulder. “Don’t be a bitch, Sky. We’ve been roommates for three years, and now you’re one of my best friends. Where else am I going to find the perfect blend of harsh sarcasm and cold observation to chase every piece of tail away once I’m done with them?”
“Well, who’s going to force me to stop working and act my age? If it weren’t for you, I never would have gone to a single bar in Boston, made friends, fallen in love…”
We smiled ruefully at each other. Jane knew how difficult the last month and a half had been. She squeezed my hand, then released it gently to brush one last crumb off my collar.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Janey,” I said, pulling her in for a hug that I knew would surprise her more than anything. “I’ll miss you too when you go back to Chicago. I’ll visit, I promise.”
She returned my tight embrace with equal fervor. “Um, yeah, you will. And New York is full of hot guys, so you know I’m going to be coming there too. Tell your bubbe to make me an extra blintz. I’ll need the calories.”
We spoke lightly, but both of us knew it would be a while before we had anything close to resembling vacation time.
“All right, enough with the sob stories,” Jane said as she set me away from her. “Time to jam. The dean’s going to flip her shit if everyone isn’t in line to march exactly at seven fifteen.”
* * *
The double ceremonywent exactly as planned, with the typical march, speeches, and walk of the commencement on the carefully maintained lawn of Tercentenary Theater. The weather was the perfect blend of sun and clouds that would make sitting on the lawn for three hours in boiling black gowns halfway tolerable.
Afterward, each school dispersed and made their way to the separate sites for individual diploma ceremonies. By the time I had received my diploma and gone back outside to mingle with my classmates and locate my family, I was both starving and elated by the fact that the day—that the past three years—was finally over.
“Skylar!Bubbela!”
I made my way around the hordes of graduates to find my father and Bubbe at the edge of the lawn. Dad was no longer walking with a cane, and his hand only bore a light splint. His face was finally clear of bruises. At last he was starting to resemble his old self again.
“Hey, Dad. Hey, Bubbe.” I greeted them each with a tight hug and accepted the bouquet of roses that Dad had obviously purchased from the flower vendors temporarily flanking Harvard Square. “When did you get here?”
“Oh, about nine fifteen,” Dad replied. He grinned. “Dang, Pips. I can’t believe we’re here. I’m so proud of you, kid.”
“Come on, come on, come on!” Bubbe waved us together while she held up the camera she had been using since before I was born.
“Bubbe,” I called as I stepped under my dad’s arm. “You sure you don’t want a digital camera? Or just use Dad’s phone? You’ll save a bundle on film, you know.”
“Pips, I’ve been trying to convince her to do that for the last ten years. She ain’t gonna budge now,” said Dad.
“Smile!” Bubbe ordered. “And for God’s sake, Danny, try not to close your eyes.”
We accommodated her through at least four different shots before she beckoned my father to switch places with her.
“So, where is he,bubbela?” she asked as she tucked a small arm securely around my waist and patted her tight gray curls before smiling at my dad. “Take at least four, Danny, just in case!”
“Where’s who?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Skylar,” she chastised through her bright smile. “Your man, yourmensch. A smart girl like you should have figured out how to fix things by now.”
Inwardly I wilted, but outwardly I smiled while Dad fumbled with the camera.
“He’s not here, Bubbe,” I said. “I told you, things didn’t work out.”
I’d had some version of this conversation every week since that night in my bedroom. He’s amensch, she told me, over and over again. They don’t come around every day. I never told her about the bracelet or the letters. It would have only made her resolve to see us reunite that much stronger.