“Putting on a few pounds there, kid,” Uncle Saul said, looking me up and down. “A few too many latkes, I see.” He shook his head. “It’s not even Chanukah yet.”
I stood in the middle of the driveway in the one-piece long underwear I normally wore for skiing, covered by white shorts and a large unzipped ski jacket. On my feet I wore sandals with white athletic socks.
“But I love latkes,” I said, tiptoeing over the light dusting of snow to the driver’s side. “I like everything about them, even their oily taste.”
He tsk-ed. “Keep that up, Sally, and you’ll be fat as a pig.”
I stared at him, then shrugged my shoulders. “At least I’ll be happy.”
Sprouting breasts and widening hips this past year had made me more awkward than usual. Nothing fit properly. I told myself, and anyone else who would listen, that I was going through a growth spurt. But the truth was, I loved to eat.
Uncle Saul laughed too. He ruffled my hair and as consolation said, “But you have a pretty face.”
I grimaced, not wanting to acknowledge the compliment, and rubbed my hands back to life. I was starting to freeze.
“Jump in,” he said, opening the car door and pushing the front seat forward. Although he had two kids and a wife, Uncle Saul had bought a two-door black Cadillac convertible with red leather seats that sizzled your flesh in the summer and numbed it in the winter. I hesitated getting in, adding up the pros and cons of taking this trip with him and my...
Subscribe now to keep reading
Please enter your email to log in or create a new account.