Lawrence, MA 1970

"Vey'al kol Yisrael v'imeru. Amein." The rabbi closed his prayerbook, grabbed the shovel standing in the pile of dirt next to him and, with the curved blade facing down, picked up a small amount of dirt. He shook the shovel over the open grave and listened as the soil and stones hit the plain, pine box. He then turned and placed the shovel in the hands of the girl in black standing next to him, indicating she should do the same. With her mouth set in a hard line and tears leaking from her brown eyes, she repeated the motions.

"I am sorry for your loss, child," the man said, mechanically.

Inwardly Rebecca snorted. He hadn't even bothered to find out her name. A voice in the back of her head wondered if he even knew the name of the woman he had just said Kaddish for. No, she thought. Saying Kaddish means Gran is really gone. She took a deep breath. No.

She flinched as the rabbi grabbed her arm. "I asked if you had a way to get home," he said in a flat voice.

Rebecca took another breath. She wouldn't show weakness in front of this man. "I can walk," she said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. "Thank you for your concern."

"Where do you live?" he asked.

She paused before answering, then sighed knowing what his response would be once he heard the answer. "Essex Street."

"You can't walk that far from here. You won't get home until after dark, and it's not safe for a girl to be out after dark in that neighborhood." His jaw was set and his eyes stony.

"It's my neighborhood," she said, "and I'm not a girl. I'll be eighteen in a few months."

"Get in the car," he replied. "Seventeen is still a girl." As they drove closer to the city center, fire engines raced by, and they could see black smoke billowing from a storefront farther down the street. "Barbarians" the rabbi muttered, "burning down buildings for entertainment."

"You can drop me off here," Rebecca said. She couldn't stand to be in the car another minute. "I live over there." She waved her hand to the right in a vague direction. The rabbi stopped the car, and she got out. "Thank you for the ride."

Rebecca watched the Chevy Nova drive off before she started walking. She didn't want him to know exactly where she and her grandmother lived. No. Where I live. The rabbi hadn't been thrilled to perform the funeral service of someone who wasn't a member of his congregation, and the very small donation Rebecca had made to the synagogue seemed to offend him. She didn't want him to ask about sitting shiva.

Except for the fire engines, Essex Street was quiet. It was a Sunday afternoon, so no one was out shopping at the few stores left on the street. As she climbed the stairs to the two-room apartment she and her grandmother had lived in for so many years, a few tears started falling from her eyes. Damn it. I thought I was done with this for now. She opened the door, then turned and relocked it. Out of habit, she also turned the deadbolt and hitched the security chain in place. As she looked around the empty apartment, her breath started coming in huge gulps, and she could feel more tears threatening to fall.

Rebecca ran to the bathroom, gasping for breath. She wrenched the cold water faucet on, and started splashing her face in an attempt to regain control over her emotions. No. Damn it. No. Not now. Any other thoughts she might have had stopped when she heard the voice coming from the living room.

"Bat's breath!"

Rebecca froze, shock accomplishing the emotional control the water hadn't managed. I know I locked the door. I always lock the door. She heard the sound of broken wood in the living room. Then the voice came again, this time sounding different, almost scared. "Jeffrey? Jeffrey, where are you?" Rebecca looked around for something she could use as a weapon. Why couldn't I have been in the kitchen? She grabbed the plunger, held it over her head, and walked out of the bathroom. The coffee table was in pieces on the floor, and there was a pirate staring at her.

"Where's Jeffrey?" The pirate's blue eyes were glazed, and his face was flushed. He pushed past Rebecca into the bathroom. "Jeff?" He noticed the door at the other end of the main room. "What's in there?"

"Uh, bedroom," Rebecca stammered. Keeping her back to the wall, she slid her feet across the floor until she got to the door, lowered one arm to the knob, and turned it. She heard coughing from inside the room, and when she turned her head, saw a boy sprawled sideways on her bed.

The pirate pushed past her. "Jeffrey.' The relief in his voice was palpable. "Thank..." He paused, looking around in confusion. "What happened to the walls?" he asked. Then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the floor.

Rebecca dropped the plunger and sank to her knees. "What was that?" was all she could say.