Coffee

Forty minutes into cleaning my room– dresser open and bare, clothing haphazardly piled onto the floor – and I needed a coffee break.

The kitchen was blessedly quiet and, blessedly, unpesachdik. I sat down to enjoy my drink, two sugars and a big splash of whole milk, when Sim busted in.

I guess it wasn’t going to be the peaceful break I thought it would be.

She sauntered over to me, silver beaded earrings jangling.”Coffee?” she asked.

I stirred and glanced up, “Never seen you this excited over coffee, Sim.” Never really seen her excited about anything these past few years.

She followed me over to the table. “I’m adopting a puppy.”

I looked up slowly. Maybe I heard wrong. “You’re what?”

“A puppy,” she smiled, oblivious. “It was so sweet, and they said I could take it for free. Because it’s blind and stuff. One of the perks of volunteering at the shelter.” She looked down, the smile still playing on her lips, her long acrylic nails going tap-tap-tap on the table.

I didn’t expect that. What a perk! Breathe, I told myself, breathe. Don’t react in a way you’ll regret. We put up with a lot. Ha, but there was no way we were getting a puppy, even worse, a handicapped one. I cringed.

“What?” she asked.

I kept my gaze down. “Nothing,” I muttered.

“What’d you think we should name her?” Sim tried for oblivious, but the light in her eyes dimmed a little.

“Coffee,” I grunted.

“She actually is coffee colored,” she cooed. “I love that.” She took leave of the room as quickly as she floated in.

*  *  *

I flopped onto my bed, and I stared at the ceiling. Sim, just no. You can do whatever crazy things you want in your own life: sketchy friends, clothing that made me blush, but please, no dog. It’s my life we’re talking about now.

Tatty is an eighth-grade rebbe, for goodness sake; we’re not – not – dog family material. I was so angry I had to focus on slowing my breathing.

Mommy would let, of course. It wasn’t a question. “It’s good for her,” she’d whisper, and that ever-present crease in her forehead would get more pronounced. She’d probably even be happy. It was her idea for Sim to volunteer at the animal shelter in the first place. 

Well, I’d take it into my own hands. A spark of an idea came to me. I flipped open my phone and called Devorah. It rang for a while. Answer, Devorah, answer.

She picked up. “Hey, Devo? You like animals, right?” I blurted out.

“Hi, how are you? What on earth?” she asked. “Malka, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Can you do me a favor and adopt a dog for a few days? Like, literally, just two days or something. Probably less.” I’m rambling, unsure.

“Are you joking?” Devorah sounded lost.

“No, for real.” I know I sounded bizarre, but I forged on anyway. “It’s really complicated, but, basically, I know someone who wants to buy a certain dog,” I paused, “but it wouldn’t be good. For them.” I hastily added. “So I need someone to do me a favor and pretend to buy it and then drop it off at a different shelter, so the person can’t buy it. Actually, maybe you won’t need to take it home at all; you just need to come with me…” I trail off.

It’s silent for a few moments.

Devorah spoke up. “So you need me to come with you, pick up a dog from a shelter, and then bring it to a different place?”

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Uh huh.”

It got quiet again.

“Malka, should I be concerned?”

“Just don’t ask questions,” I muttered.

“Uh, okay, sure.” The line went quiet again. “Malka, you get me into the weirdest situations.”

We both laughed.

*  *  *

I picked Devorah up from her office job and drove to the shelter. We awkwardly made our way inside. A bell rang loudly announcing our presence as the stale scent of animals greeted us. As the door closed behind me, a wave of guilt hit me.

No, but I need to, I tried to reassure myself. This is for us. Enough with her and always her.

My head swiveled side to side, taking in the surroundings. Caged dogs lined the brightly painted walls and barked and yipped at us. She can do whatever crazy things she does and we don’t put up a fuss. But a dog affects all of us.

 “Here to adopt?” A bright voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up. A lady in a neon pink sweatshirt sat at the front desk. She swept her long hair in front of her shoulders and snapped her gum. “Something like that,” I mumbled. Then pushing away my hesitations, I tried to look eager. “I’ve always dreamed of having a small brown puppy.”

“You’re in luck,” she stood up, “we actually have an adorable light brown Yorkshire Terrier. Is that what you’re looking for?”

“Um, maybe, I don’t know. Can I see it?”

“Of course,” she said, motioning for us to follow her to the back.

She turned to us conversationally. “We just got in a new puppy, so sweet. Here, this way,” she motioned. “But it’s blind…”

“That’s the one I want,” I interrupted, my acting game done.

The front desk lady looked at me strangely, “The blind one?” She arched her eyebrows. “We actually gave that one away to one of our volunteers.”

“I really want that one,” I repeated dumbly. “I like blind dogs.”

“Let me ask the girl if she would allow you to buy it,” she paused, “she really had a soft spot for it though, so don’t get your hopes up.” She disappeared into the back room.

I froze. No, no, no. Why are you always so impulsive, Malka? At least you could have worked this one detail out.

“Sim,” I heard her say.

“Yeah?” Sim came out of one of the doors.

Our eyes met. My confidence evaporated. Leave it to me to forget the most important detail.

“This sweet girl,” the lady placed her hand on my shoulder. I smelled her flowery perfume. “…is interested in buying Coffee.”

I looked down.

“No, I want it,” Sim said stone-faced.

“Sorry,” the lady turned to me, “should I show you the terrier?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Devorah looked at me, questioning and confused. “Whatever,” I mumbled. “Can you wait in the car for me?”

*  *  *

I ran outside. Sim followed me. A breeze blew a piece of her garishly dyed hair in front of her face, and it rested in a loop on her forehead. She turned to me, anger and pain etched across her features. “What were you planning to do with Coffee?” She drew in a breath, “Kill her?”

“No,” I said horrified. “I would never kill anything. I just wanted…to see her.”

She didn’t look convinced. Under her thick eyeliner, her eyes were wet. “I won’t keep Coffee.” The trees rustled overhead. She rubbed her boot in the dirt. “I’m sorry I embarrass you so much,” she whispered. I stared down, noticing her spiked boots contrasting with my conservative loafers.

The spring breeze picked up, and I shivered in my thin sweater. I dared to meet her eyes. They were so wide it almost hurt to look. They were eyes that matched my own perfectly, almond-shaped and light brown, but it was hard to see the resemblance these days. She was chained by her own demons.

We used to be best buddies, little girls in matching bows, then matching knapsacks, matching linen – until things happened. Who knows what or who was at fault, but everything changed, and we stood opposite each other, looking as different from each other as two strangers at a subway station. Her eyes shook me. I could hate and hate and be mad, be just plain embarrassed, of the girl standing before me – of my sister – but where did that get me?

It was Pesach in a few short weeks. A celebration of freedom from our oppressors. Maybe Sim couldn’t break free of her own demons right now; she would celebrate a Pesach still caught in the claws of pain. But I could break free…love her, accept her.  

I looked at her. “We’re proud of you, Sim.” It was the first time I’d told her that in a long time.

She looked surprised. She wrapped her arms around herself to protect herself from the chill. Guilt stabbed me. I want to say I’m sorry again and again. Instead, I say, “Can you show me the puppy?”

She looked up. “Coffee?” Her voice was still thick.

We got to the cage. A teeny, tiny, brown puppy was curled up inside. Sim opened the cage hesitantly and took her out. The puppy was the size of her palm. It nuzzled her shirt and closed its eyes.

“It’s just a baby,” I said.

Sim nodded.

“When do you get to take her home?” I asked.

She looked at me measuredly. Met my eyes hard. “She just got her shots today,” said Sim, rubbing Coffee’s little arched back, “so whenever.”

“When do you finish your shift here?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“So how about,” I swallowed hard. “How about I drop Devorah off, then come back to bring you and Coffee home?”

Her face softened. “Okay.”

*  *  *

I was at the wheel, Sim beside me, puppy curled in her lap. She stroked Coffee’s ear. “She’s really so helpless,” she said almost to herself, “blind and little and sweet.” She went quiet. “The other puppies can tell she’s blind, you know. They treat her different. I’m happy they let me take her home, where I can appreciate her for what she is.”

I glanced at her. “Yeah,” I said quietly, “I guess that’s what home is all about.”