Holiday Blues
Nomi crouched on her bedroom floor attempting to close her suitcase. Her room was in chaos. The cupboard was open and bare, its contents scattered in a tangle of clothing and hangers. Piles of books and CDs lay strewn over the bed. A hi-fi balanced precariously on the edge of her dressing table.
The door handle jiggled up and down. Nomi tutted. Why did no one ever give her privacy? She bent over her suitcase again. There was a quick knocking at the door and then the sound of someone leaning heavily against it. Nomi pushed her suitcase, wedging it more firmly in the doorway.
Another series of knocks. Her mother's voice came impatiently from the other side. "Nomi - please - open the door."
Nomi bit her lip. "It's not locked. The suitcase is against it."
"Well, move it then."
Nomi took hold of the handle of the suitcase. She pulled. "I can't, Mummy. I'm sorry, but it won't budge. It's stuck in the doorway."
"Oh, Nomi, really. How can you - when I'm so busy?"
"Sorry, Mummy, it's not you. It's everyone else, they keep barging in."
She heard her mother sigh loudly on the other side. "Nomi, get hold of it with both hands."
Nomi took hold of the handle again, closed her eyes, and, gritting her teeth, pulled hard. She felt a lightening of her load.
"Is it coming?"
"I think so." She opened her eyes. In her hands she held the handle, detached from the suitcase. "Oh, Mummy, it's come off. The handle, I mean."
"Nomi!" Her mother's voice sounded angry. "Today of all days. Don't you want to go on holiday?"
Nomi stood up. Her room was hot, and there was only one small window that would open.
"No, I don't," she wanted to say, but she did not think that now was the best time to say it.
Not their kind of holiday. Cows and trees and long walks in the hot French sun. People practicing their French and telling her how useful it would be for her schoolwork.
She went over to the window. Outside in the back garden Rivky was mixing clumps of mud and grass in an old bucket and talking to herself. It was all right for Rivky. She was never lonely or bored. She could entertain herself anywhere.
Her brothers were also in the garden, helping her father carry things out of the shed for the holiday. There was a lot of arguing about the roof rack - the best way to get it out. The argument happened every year, because the roof rack was too big for the shed and was squeezed in between the bikes and the gardening tools. They were all shouting at each other, but at least they were doing something together and were useful and important. She had nothing special to do, except wash up and play with Rivky and the baby.
"Nomi!" came her mother's voice. "Did you hear what I was saying?"
"Oh, sorry, Mummy."
"Nomi, listen to me carefully. I want you to unpack your case completely, and then you'll be able to move it away from the door."
Nomi waited.
"Nomi? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Mummy."
"Well, are you going to do it?"
Nomi sighed. Of course, she was. She had to. She couldn't really block the doorway forever with her suitcase. But it had been so nice that no one could get in, and she could have the place to herself for just a little while. She began to unpack slowly, placing the carefully folded piles of dresses and jackets in neat piles around the room.
"Call me when you're ready!" said her mother. "I want to see what you're taking before you close the case."
"Okay, Mummy," said Nomi.
"And not more than one Shabbos outfit and two skirts. I'm coming in five minutes to have a look."
* * *
She sat on the edge of her bed, thinking. She had packed three Shabbos outfits and three pairs of shoes as well as her old outdoor clothing and running shoes. Then there was her jewelry box. Did she really need her silver necklace and her three pairs of earrings on holiday? And the hairdryer! She sighed. Of course she didn't need them; she was only bringing them so that she could pretend. The others didn't know this, but she was really a detective girl going on holiday. She needed lots of clothes in order to feel the part. Detective girls walked about solving mysteries in fancy running shoes and trendy jackets. And her mother had said one Shabbos outfit and two skirts! She couldn't be expected to solve mysteries in those!
Her mother opened the door. "You ready, Nomi?"
Nomi shrugged and stuck out her chin. Her mother bent to inspect the suitcase. "One, two, three pairs of shoes. Nomi, what's this? I said only one -"
"You didn't say one pair of shoes."
"What do you need three pairs for? Nomi, we haven't got room. And this jacket - why are you bringing it? It's far too good. It'll get ruined."
Straightening her back and narrowing her eyes, Nomi assumed her most steely expression. She would not show that she was upset. She watched as her mother unpacked her case once more, tutting and sighing at each unsuitable article of clothing, then closed the case, satisfied. "There, that's better," she said. She looked at Nomi.
"Nomi! What's the matter? You're not crying, are you?"
Nomi's face crumpled. The tears came fast and furiously. She couldn't stop them. "You're so mean!" she screamed. "You're so mean, you don't let me take anything. You've squashed all my things!"
"But, Nomi," said her mother, bewildered, "there just isn't room. And all your good stuff will get spoiled."
"You don't like me, I know you don't," said Nomi, flinging herself on the bed.
"Oh, but Nomi, that isn't true, you know it isn't. I love you, I really do." Mrs. Levy went over to the bed, where Nomi lay sobbing, and stroked her hair. "It isn't that I don't love you, we all do. It's just that there really isn't room.... Oh no, what now?"
There was a commotion outside in the landing. Mrs. Levy stood up and opened the door. Aryeh was coming up the stairs, a screaming baby under one arm, Rivky held tightly by the hand. Rivky had been feeding mud to the baby.
"Aryeh - wash Rivky," ordered Mrs. Levy. She took the baby from him.
But Rivky had slipped from Aryeh's grasp and escaped to the staircase. Aryeh chased after her with a wet flannel, and as the cacophony rose Nomi, quietly getting off her bed, locked her door and began to stuff the forbidden shoes and skirts into the corners of the suitcase.
Buy Saving Soraya at a special online price at www.targum.com
