{"id":14316,"date":"2022-09-15T11:23:32","date_gmt":"2022-09-15T16:23:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/?p=14316"},"modified":"2025-11-15T11:57:59","modified_gmt":"2025-11-15T17:57:59","slug":"the-boyfriend","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2022\/09\/15\/the-boyfriend\/","title":{"rendered":"The Boyfriend"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<ul class=\"wp-block-social-links is-content-justification-right is-layout-flex wp-container-core-social-links-is-layout-765c4724 wp-block-social-links-is-layout-flex\"><li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-facebook  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61556140010887\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12 2C6.5 2 2 6.5 2 12c0 5 3.7 9.1 8.4 9.9v-7H7.9V12h2.5V9.8c0-2.5 1.5-3.9 3.8-3.9 1.1 0 2.2.2 2.2.2v2.5h-1.3c-1.2 0-1.6.8-1.6 1.6V12h2.8l-.4 2.9h-2.3v7C18.3 21.1 22 17 22 12c0-5.5-4.5-10-10-10z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Facebook<\/span><\/a><\/li>\n\n<li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-instagram  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/boudin_mcneese\/\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12,4.622c2.403,0,2.688,0.009,3.637,0.052c0.877,0.04,1.354,0.187,1.671,0.31c0.42,0.163,0.72,0.358,1.035,0.673 c0.315,0.315,0.51,0.615,0.673,1.035c0.123,0.317,0.27,0.794,0.31,1.671c0.043,0.949,0.052,1.234,0.052,3.637 s-0.009,2.688-0.052,3.637c-0.04,0.877-0.187,1.354-0.31,1.671c-0.163,0.42-0.358,0.72-0.673,1.035 c-0.315,0.315-0.615,0.51-1.035,0.673c-0.317,0.123-0.794,0.27-1.671,0.31c-0.949,0.043-1.233,0.052-3.637,0.052 s-2.688-0.009-3.637-0.052c-0.877-0.04-1.354-0.187-1.671-0.31c-0.42-0.163-0.72-0.358-1.035-0.673 c-0.315-0.315-0.51-0.615-0.673-1.035c-0.123-0.317-0.27-0.794-0.31-1.671C4.631,14.688,4.622,14.403,4.622,12 s0.009-2.688,0.052-3.637c0.04-0.877,0.187-1.354,0.31-1.671c0.163-0.42,0.358-0.72,0.673-1.035 c0.315-0.315,0.615-0.51,1.035-0.673c0.317-0.123,0.794-0.27,1.671-0.31C9.312,4.631,9.597,4.622,12,4.622 M12,3 C9.556,3,9.249,3.01,8.289,3.054C7.331,3.098,6.677,3.25,6.105,3.472C5.513,3.702,5.011,4.01,4.511,4.511 c-0.5,0.5-0.808,1.002-1.038,1.594C3.25,6.677,3.098,7.331,3.054,8.289C3.01,9.249,3,9.556,3,12c0,2.444,0.01,2.751,0.054,3.711 c0.044,0.958,0.196,1.612,0.418,2.185c0.23,0.592,0.538,1.094,1.038,1.594c0.5,0.5,1.002,0.808,1.594,1.038 c0.572,0.222,1.227,0.375,2.185,0.418C9.249,20.99,9.556,21,12,21s2.751-0.01,3.711-0.054c0.958-0.044,1.612-0.196,2.185-0.418 c0.592-0.23,1.094-0.538,1.594-1.038c0.5-0.5,0.808-1.002,1.038-1.594c0.222-0.572,0.375-1.227,0.418-2.185 C20.99,14.751,21,14.444,21,12s-0.01-2.751-0.054-3.711c-0.044-0.958-0.196-1.612-0.418-2.185c-0.23-0.592-0.538-1.094-1.038-1.594 c-0.5-0.5-1.002-0.808-1.594-1.038c-0.572-0.222-1.227-0.375-2.185-0.418C14.751,3.01,14.444,3,12,3L12,3z M12,7.378 c-2.552,0-4.622,2.069-4.622,4.622S9.448,16.622,12,16.622s4.622-2.069,4.622-4.622S14.552,7.378,12,7.378z M12,15 c-1.657,0-3-1.343-3-3s1.343-3,3-3s3,1.343,3,3S13.657,15,12,15z M16.804,6.116c-0.596,0-1.08,0.484-1.08,1.08 s0.484,1.08,1.08,1.08c0.596,0,1.08-0.484,1.08-1.08S17.401,6.116,16.804,6.116z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Instagram<\/span><\/a><\/li><\/ul>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-large-font-size\"><strong>The Boyfriend<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>Benjamin Selesnick<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"759\" src=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-1024x759.jpeg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-14314\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-1024x759.jpeg 1024w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-300x222.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-768x570.jpeg 768w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-1536x1139.jpeg 1536w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2022\/09\/Image-2048x1519.jpeg 2048w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The dining room was one of the larger rooms in Noah\u2019s Atlantic-facing colonial. It had a vaulted ceiling, a glassed-encased display at one end of the cedar-cut table that held a collection of plaques and trophies he\u2019d accrued over the past decade working as the on-call physician for the Celtics, and underneath a glittering chandelier, it had Morris, Noah\u2019s father, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Noah, Morris\u2019s middle-aged son, was pouring wine for everyone at the table. Serving the Kurzweil\u2019s first, then Ira, then his parents, Noah ended with Daniel, finishing the pour with a coy flourish. Daniel raised his glass and flashed his faintly yellowed teeth in thanks. The lone goy, with blonde chest hair poking out from his unbuttoned collar, with murky blue eyes and a pale complexion\u2014Daniel was the evening\u2019s guest of honor. To Morris, an unnecessary guest. A terror, really.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris had known Daniel for almost ten years, starting when Daniel and Susan, Morris\u2019s wife, had joined the fundraiser\u2019s board of Boston Children\u2019s Hospital. They\u2019d see one another at the fundraisers that Susan and Daniel hosted, and after Daniel\u2019s wife divorced him, these evenings often ended with Daniel asking Susan for a dance. To this, Susan would smile and nod, before turning to Morris to reassure him that it\u2019ll be quick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Last week, when Susan told Morris that Daniel would be coming to their Passover seder, Morris was at his computer scrolling through family photos, searching for ones from their trip to Punta Cana. He wanted to find one of him, Noah, and Susan together, back when Noah was still a boy. But he couldn\u2019t find one. He stared at the screen, confused, until he recalled that he spent most of the trip\u2014as with their other Caribbean vacations\u2014either taking long walks on the beach that Noah and Susan didn\u2019t have the patience to join him on, or smoking cigars on their suite\u2019s patio as he reread pulpy novels from his childhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">When he\u2019d turned to his wife, Susan gave him a hard stare that expressed a lifetime\u2019s worth of frustrations. Morris asked if there was any way she could reconsider. Maybe Daniel could come over on a Sunday to watch some football in the fall? Or join them in the summer at a barbecue with a whole lot of people?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNo,\u201d Susan had said. \u201cIt\u2019s time he gets to know everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">So now, with a yarmulke on his head and an empty plate before him, Morris surveyed Noah\u2019s dining room, doing his best not to look at Daniel. The room held many familiar faces. There was Susan, Noah, the Kurzweil\u2019s, and Ira. Harlan Kurzweil had been the head of the urology department at Boston Medical before Morris took his place, a longtime friend and mentor, and Elaine Kurzweil had gotten close with Susan after years of attending the galas Harlan and Morris had dragged them to. Ira\u2019d been friends with Morris and Susan Sirotovsky for almost sixty years, beginning when they were all sophomores at Flemington High. They\u2019d stayed close in the six intervening decades, although their closeness waxed and waned based on their proximity. When Morris took the job at Boston Medical, and Ira took a job as a litigator for a firm in Brooklyn, they all hardly spoke. But when Ira moved to Cambridge five years ago, soon after his wife, Miriam, died, so that he might be closer to his daughter, Linda, and his grandkids, he and the Sirotovsky\u2019s again grew close. He was rotund, dressed in slacks and suspenders, and right now, he was holding court.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAll the maintenance makes me regret buying the place. Ever since I moved into this new house, my days are long with what needs to get done. It\u2019s like my to-do list is eating me. I can never go out and do my shopping, I can\u2019t take my walks. And I hardly know what to do to fix half of what breaks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cUncle Ira,\u201d Noah said, looking at Ira with his large hazel eyes, \u201cI\u2019ve owned this house for fifteen years and I can hardly replace a lightbulb. I have to call for someone to come help with everything. No need to be ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cBut some shame is good,\u201d Harlan commented. In his retirement, the doctor\u2019s beard had grown long, as had his hair. He\u2019d joked to Morris that he was trying to revert back to an earlier age, an earlier mindset\u2014which the long hair was meant to symbolize\u2014before he had a career and a reputation. \u201cIt keeps us honest, and it might keep a few more rooms in your home lit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSome weekend mornings, Linda comes over with the kids to help me keep the house straight,\u201d Ira continued, as if no one else had spoken. \u201cI used to try and make French toast as a treat for them once we finished our work, but I\u2019m no chef. Miriam was always the cook in our house. Until she died, I didn\u2019t know a ladle from a spatula. The French toast ended up being too eggy, too s<em>pon<\/em>gy, and the kids would hardly take a bite, no matter how much syrup I poured on it. So now I just warm up some Eggo waffles, because how could anyone, even a schmuck like me, mess them up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAnd what about you?\u201d Noah interrupted, turning to Daniel, who\u2019d been sitting quietly ever since Susan had rushed him over to the table to take the seat next to her; if left uninterrupted, Ira\u2019s lamenting could go on indefinitely. \u201cDo you have trouble with the upkeep of your place?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Although Daniel\u2019d been the head of a successful advertising firm in Boston for the backend of his career, he appeared to have lost whatever confidence that kind of work required, because now he spoke softly, like a nervous child being called upon to read aloud in class. \u201cNot really. I downgraded to a smaller place once I retired, so there\u2019s less for me to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI downgraded, too,\u201d Ira interjected, \u201cbut just because a place is small doesn\u2019t mean there isn\u2019t work to do. And the landscaping!\u2014Do you do that yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMostly, but, again, there isn\u2019t much. I live on a small plot near the bottom of mount Monadnock, and I don&#8217;t have many neighbors nearby, so I haven\u2019t even really felt the need to keep up appearances.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMonadnock?\u201d Harlan cut in. \u201cIsn\u2019t that New Hampshire? Please don\u2019t tell me you drove <em>two<\/em> <em>hours <\/em>just for our seder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNo,\u201d Daniel answered, shaking his head and holding up a deferential hand. \u201cI was already planning on seeing family in Salem before Susan invited me to your seder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">With this mention of Salem, Morris\u2019s stomach tightened. Susan had come up with the excuse of Daniel having family in Salem just that morning. \u201cIt\u2019s flimsy,\u201d Morris had argued. \u201cIf someone asks why he\u2019s there, a random midweek visit to his family won&#8217;t be believable. He\u2019ll have to say it\u2019s somebody\u2019s birthday or something, and then we\u2019ll all be ad-libbing.\u201d But as it turned out, nobody had asked until now, and it didn\u2019t seem like Harlan was interested in following up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNoah,\u201d Elaine said from across the table, \u201care we doing this seder?\u201d Like her husband, Elaine had recently taken an aesthetic turn back to her youth: wearing billowing dresses, as she did this night, instead of the prim blouses and pastel-colored khakis she\u2019d worn the past four decades. \u201cI\u2019m getting hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Noah nodded and slipped into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a prepared seder plate and a plate of matzah\u2014rye, as Morris had requested. Once he laid them down on the table, he went into a cabinet drawer by the dining room table and pulled out seven sheets of paper. He gave the pile to Ira and asked him to pass them around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris held out his sheet at arm\u2019s length, so his farsighted eyes could read it. It was a printout of an article titled <em>The Two-Minute Haggadah. <\/em>It was a couple hundred words at most, and, Morris noted after a quick scan, it was hardly a Haggadah at all. Instead of having the prayer for wine in its original Hebrew, it just said, \u201cThanks, God, for creating wine,\u201dfollowed by the instruction, \u201c(Drink wine.)\u201d When it came to listing the ten plagues God inflicted upon Pharaoh and the Egyptians, it said, \u201cBlood, Frogs, Lice\u2014you name it.\u201dThe story of Passover was recounted as, \u201cIt\u2019s a long time ago. We\u2019re slaves in Egypt. Pharaoh is a nightmare. We cry out for help. God brings plagues upon the Egyptians. We escape, bake some matzoh. God parts the Red Sea. We make it through; the Egyptians aren\u2019t so lucky.\u201d And the rest of it was equally quippy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNoah?\u201d Morris cracked. \u201cWhat\u2019s this two minutes all about? Where\u2019re your real Haggadot?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Now seated at the head of the table, Noah spoke slowly and in a low voice. His sharp jaw was jutting outwards like a knife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&#8220;Mom told me that tonight we\u2019d be having a guest who isn\u2019t Jewish, so I thought it\u2019d be nice to try doing a seder that would be easier for a non-Jew to understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris huffed. Noah\u2019s condescension wasn\u2019t new, but that didn\u2019t make it any less upsetting. Yet, that\u2019s what you get, when you give a boy an easy childhood: the one in Concord with the big house and boarding school and the Ivy League education, followed by the quick admittance to Grossman Medical, the scale tipped by a few calls Morris had made. He\u2019ll think he deserves everything. That surely wasn\u2019t how Morris was raised. Morris\u2019s father had survived the pogroms in Kyiv when he was just a boy, and he\u2019d raised Morris on his own, after Morris\u2019s mom passed in \u201948. The man understood perseverance, hard work, making your own way. If he had lived long enough to see who Noah became, who knows what he would\u2019ve thought of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI understand, but that\u2019s not how we celebrate Pesach in this family. Now, Susan,\u201d Morris looked to the seat next to him, where Susan was sitting, \u201cdid you bring any of our Haggadot? I think we keep them in the cabinets in the living room.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan looked at him, blanched. In the three years following her seventy-fifth birthday, she\u2019d stopped coloring her hair, so the springy hairs that she was now irritatedly tugging on were silver instead of chestnut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI know where they <em>are<\/em>, Moe, but why would I have brought them? We\u2019re at Noah\u2019s house. He can host the seder however he likes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe can host it so long as it\u2019s <em>Jewish<\/em>. This,\u201d Morris said, lifting the <em>Two Minute Haggadah<\/em>, \u201cdoesn\u2019t even have a lick of Hebrew on it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMoe, any seder is a good seder,\u201d Harlan said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Elaine sneered. \u201cNot all seders are <em>good<\/em>. They\u2019re all <em>boring<\/em>. They take so long, and whenever I sing <em>Dayenu<\/em>, it gets stuck in my head for days afterwards. Harlan and I haven\u2019t celebrated in years. The last time I remember having a <em>real <\/em>seder was when our girls were teenagers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d Ira admitted. \u201cI usually don\u2019t have the patience for a realseder, either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cBut Morris, we can do a real seder, if that makes you feel better,\u201d Daniel said, leaning forward so he could see past Susan, who was seated between the two of them. His tie laid partially on the table, at the edge of his plate, like a snake waiting to pounce. \u201cIt\u2019s not a big deal. I\u2019m sure I\u2019ll be able to follow along.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><em>Don\u2019t act like you care about my feelings, now<\/em>.If Daniel had cared about Morris\u2019s feelings at all, he wouldn\u2019t\u2019ve come today. If he cared, he wouldn\u2019t be trying to weasel his way into his family. He wouldn\u2019t be making his retirement so hellish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">For the past four months, that is. Up until then, Morris had been enjoying his retirement. With his morning walks into town, and with evenings spent watching CNN with a book of Sudoku puzzles in his hands, he felt like he\u2019d successfully let go of the pent-up stress his career had imposed on him. Susan would even join him on the couch some evenings, reading one of the books she\u2019d bought over the years and had never gotten through. But four months ago, on a cold morning when the wind was whipping freshly fallen snow into the air, Susan had told Morris that, after fifty years of marriage, she was in love with someone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI don\u2019t want to leave you,\u201d she\u2019d said. \u201cI love you just as much as I always have. I love the family we\u2019ve built. But I need to follow this. I am my own person, with my own wants and needs. Some of which you can\u2019t satisfy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAre you talking about sex?\u201d Morris asked. They still had sex, but it was a brief, monthly affair that they\u2019d missed four times last year without mention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt\u2019s more than sex. I\u2019ve found a spiritual connection with this other man. He <em>knows<\/em> me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI thought <em>I <\/em>knew you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou <em>do<\/em> know me,\u201d Susan corrected, \u201cbut in a different way. I can\u2019t explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris temporarily accepted Susan\u2019s words, but they didn\u2019t make sense. Had she always been capable of cradling two hearts at once? Had she always been capable of such a betrayal? It seemed impossible, since she\u2019d always been so generous with Morris. Back when Noah was a baby, she was always the one who dealt with his late night crying, so that Morris could get some sleep for the lectures he had to teach in the morning. Even when <em>they<\/em> were kids, attending the same temple\u2014B\u2019nai Keshet, a small temple on a county highway that looked more like a warehouse than a place of worship\u2014Susan would sneak into the synagogue\u2019s kitchen, steal a handful of cookies, and bring them into the sanctuary for the two of them to share.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She\u2019d always made space for Morris\u2019s comfort. How could she take that away now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">In the days following that brief yet firm conversation, Morris\u2019s disposition quickly shifted from unsettled to enraged. Among other things, he couldn\u2019t stop thinking of Susan having sex with this mystery man. Morris imagined him burly, muscled, and a few decades younger than either he or Susan, positioned on top of her in the bed that she and Morris had shared since they bought their home in the late seventies. Then, once he managed to stop thinking of their sex, his mind would drift to an image of them sitting at the kitchen table, Susan across from her lover\u2014faceless, he was always faceless\u2014with coffee in hand. A gentle Sunday morning, they share smiles but not words, as they slowly pick at a muffin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She was destroying their relationship. Their <em>lives<\/em>. Soon, Morris started ignoring her. He didn\u2019t tell her where he was going when he left the house. On one sleepless night, his anger even pushed him into creating an eHarmony account. <em>If she\u2019s going to be with someone else, then so will I!<\/em> He put his information into the site, and was soon given a surprisingly long list of single women aged forty-five to sixty-five\u2014the range he requested\u2014in his suburban area of Massachusetts. He was wowed by his options. He could date an attorney! A chef! Another retiree! A redhead! He was taken with the photos of women who, if he\u2019d seen them in the street, he wouldn\u2019t\u2019ve given a second glance to, and in a feverish rush, he sent a message out to one woman, then to another. <em>My name is Morris. What are you looking for? Have you ever dated a man older than yourself? <\/em>It was exhilarating. All these different futures were presented before him in the faces of these many women.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">But his exhilaration was short-lived, for after being on the site for fifteen minutes, he had the thought that this, the exhilaration, must\u2019ve been exactly what Susan felt when she started seeing her mystery man. Sneaking behind Morris\u2019s back, having rendezvous\u2019s in motels all across New England. With these thoughts, the reality of his situation came rushing back: his wife was growing farther from him with each passing minute, and, even though part of him thought that maybe he should feel differently, he didn\u2019t want to be with any other women. He wanted to be with Susan. Yes, she\u2019d betrayed him in the deepest way, but she was his wife, and they\u2019d been together his <em>whole<\/em> life. That fact, no matter how badly he might\u2019ve wanted to step around it, could not be understated. Who would ever understand him like she did?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">There was still a chance, though, Morris thought, that if he got back in Susan\u2019s good graces, she might dump the mystery man. He couldn\u2019t figure what he\u2019d done to lose her loyalty, but he could still fix this. He deleted his eHarmony account and the next morning picked up a scone for her when he took his walk into town. She didn\u2019t eat it, choosing instead to make herself some toast, but Morris wasn\u2019t deterred. He bought her a necklace and slipped it into her sock drawer later that afternoon when she wasn\u2019t around. On it, he placed a note, short but sweet: <em>I love you. <\/em>Susan found it when they were readying themselves for bed. Her face, which Morris anxiously watched from his seated position under the covers, remained dispassionate when she lifted the box out of the drawer, when she read the note, and when she opened the box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cDo you like it?\u201d Morris asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou got me this same necklace for our thirtieth anniversary.\u201d She opened up her jewelry box, which sat on top of the dresser, and pulled out an identical necklace. \u201cNow I have a backup in case I ever lose <em>this <\/em>one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Although dismayed by his own obliviousness, Morris continued with his random acts of affection: he\u2019d compliment her outfits, he\u2019d take her hand in his when they sat next to one another on the couch, he got her a scarf and a pair of satin gloves. But none of this disturbed the graceful stoicism Susan had adopted. And then, without explanation, she started leaving Friday evenings and returning Sunday mornings to see, Morris assumed, the mystery man. She took her toiletries with her, her pajamas. Those private items\u2014some Morris had given her as gifts\u2014left a tremendous absence in their wake that, upon sight, made him feel bereft, ready to shove the plans he\u2019d had for the day in a drawer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She was planted firm: she was going to have her relationship with this man, and until Morris acquiesced, they wouldn\u2019t be close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">So, despite how painful the thought of Susan being with this other man was, he\u2019d agreed to the new terms of their relationship\u2014as uncomplaining as possible, too, so the transition would be quick and frictionless. Even when Susan told Morris that her boyfriend was Daniel, he said nothing. Yes, later, he\u2019d gone outside and whacked every troubled weed out of their yard with a golf club, but he hadn\u2019t let Susan see that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And with their new relationship, Morris had also agreed to the idea behind this crazy seder: Morris, Susan, and their loved ones would spend this evening together getting to know Daniel.\u00a0 Nobody in the room outside the three of them knew about his and Susan\u2019s relationship, not even Noah. Susan and Morris agreed that it would be sprung on them at a later point, once they were more comfortable with Daniel. It was a day Morris prayed would never come\u2014but if it ever did come, Morris rested his hopes on the idea that his loved ones would side with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Which led to the second reason for why he agreed to have Daniel come to the seder: so he could show himself the better man in front of his loved ones. That way, once word of Susan\u2019s new relationship got out, they might be more inclined to encourage her to stay with Morris, to push her to leave Daniel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">It was a long-shot, admittedly. But at this point, it felt like the only option he had left to save his marriage. In many ways, he thought of this evening as his final stand against the crushing tide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\"><strong>*<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-left has-medium-font-size\">The two-minute Haggadah turned out to be a ninety-second Haggadah, and everyone except Morris seemed happier for it. They breezed through each paragraph, hitting the quips hard, laughing throughout.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAlright,\u201d Noah said, once everyone had finished their obligatory cup of wine and had stuffed a few corners of matzah into their mouths, \u201cwho\u2019s ready for dinner? Mom, want to help me serve?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSure,\u201d Susan answered, and followed Noah into the kitchen. They returned with a plate of brisket, a tray of green beans sitting on a bed of caramelized onions and mushrooms, and a bowl of scalloped potatoes. The delicious smells wafted through the room, reminding Morris of Passover\u2019s past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSue,\u201d Morris said, \u201cdid you make all this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThey\u2019re my recipes, but Noah made them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Putting the food on the table, Noah was beaming. He hadn\u2019t always been a cook, not to mention a good one. He hardly cooked through college, and when he was married, he didn\u2019t cook a thing. Luci, his ex, was the one who did all the work in the kitchen. But soon after their marriage dissolved, Susan started coming over once a week to teach him how to cook, in an effort to support him during that hard time. They spent hours together at Noah\u2019s marbled countertops, prepping veggies, making marinades, sifting flour. Each time they successfully completed a dish, they\u2019d print out the recipe and put it in a binder that Noah kept on his counter for easy reference. By the end of the year, Noah practically had enough recipes to fill a cookbook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan and Noah set the plates down on the table and returned to their seats. Harlan and Elaine quickly reached for the sides, and Morris served himself some brisket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cLooks good,\u201d Elaine said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou\u2019ve got a lot to be proud of, here,\u201d Harlan added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cBut where\u2019s the matzo ball soup?\u201d Ira asked, his hands resting before him on the table. His face, which was so often knit with worry, was now creased with agitation. \u201cI waited all week for it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">After the table had elected to use the <em>Two-Minute Haggadah<\/em>, Morris had privately vowed to not get involved with any back-and-forth\u2019s. He knew he\u2019d already lost points with the group for being the old fogey who preferred to stick with tradition. But Ira\u2019s words\u2014so typical, so grating\u2014spurred Morris into speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWon\u2019t you stop it, Ira? We have a great meal here. Let\u2019s just be thankful for it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Ira slouched and averted his gaze, like a battered dog. Looking at the shamed Ira, everyone at the table grew quiet, stiff. The moment weighed heavily in the air, ballooning\u2014until Susan gathered the courage to pop it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNext time you come over, I can make you a bowl.\u201d Susan said. \u201cI\u2019ll make a whole pot. You can bring Linda and the grandkids.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Ira offered an abashed smile, shook his head, and then dove into his meal. Everyone else followed suit. Accompanied by the sound of mouths\u2019 chewing, the candles lit at the start of the seder flickered with a breeze that passed from an opened window. From the corner of his eye, Morris saw Noah watching them all eat, waiting, he believed, for contented looks to appear on their faces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The first came from Daniel.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThis is wonderful,\u201d he said, wiping his lower lip with a napkin. \u201cI haven\u2019t had brisket since I was in my twenties. I was dating my wife, then. She was half-Jewish,\u201d he motioned with an upturned palm to the table, politely, \u201cand her mom made us a tray of it for Hanukkah. It was the best thing I\u2019d eat for years. I wish I\u2019d asked her for the recipe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMom\u2019s recipe is right there in the kitchen,\u201d Noah said. \u201cI\u2019ll give you a copy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Daniel smiled, and Noah offered one in return.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhere\u2019s your wife, tonight?\u201d Harlan asked Daniel, from across the table. His eyes were on his plate, as he shoveled a heap of mushrooms onto his fork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIn Manhattan, I figure. That\u2019s where she moved to after we got divorced.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI didn\u2019t know you were divorced. When did that happen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cTen years ago, but don\u2019t worry, it was for the best. She and I had been growing apart for awhile, and then we retired and with all that extra time together we realized that we were ready to move on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSome might say that you both got sick of each other,\u201d Elaine said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThey wouldn\u2019t be wrong,\u201d Daniel said, laughing lightly. \u201cI think we both got out at just the right time. If we stayed together another week, things could\u2019ve started getting ugly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThat\u2019s how it was with my ex, too,\u201d Noah said, speaking as he chewed. \u201cLuci\u2014 all of us here knew Luci\u2014She and I had reached the end of our rope by the time we called in the lawyers. If I said one more thing she didn\u2019t like, she would\u2019ve started throwing plates.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYour Luci wasn\u2019t like that.\u201d Elaine said, smacking the back of Noah\u2019s palm. \u201cI only met her a few times, but she always treated me like family.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou <em>are <\/em>family\u2014and yes, she could be sweet, if you were lucky enough to be on her good side.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cBut you ended things well, didn\u2019t you?\u201d Ira asked. \u201cDon\u2019t you still talk?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNot anymore,\u201d Noah said, \u201cbut we had our good times.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Taking a bite of brisket, tender and riddled with delicious fat, the memory of another meal he and Susan had shared in similar company, easily categorized as <em>the<\/em> <em>good times<\/em>, came to Morris\u2019s mind: Noah\u2019s wedding. It was held a mile from Morris and Susan\u2019s home at an old, well-maintained farmhouse that could only be reached by crossing a small bridge over a narrow stream. What Morris remembered clearest from that night was how Noah had looked when he and Luci had their first dance: his eyes gently closed, his freshly-shaven cheek pressed against Luci\u2019s, like he was laying his head against a pillow. True, Noah was already fairly drunk by the time that dance took place, but in his memory, Morris preferred to let that fact slide. All that mattered was his son\u2019s happiness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris still held that position, but his son\u2019s attitude, how mocking and unabashedly self-assured it could be, often blinded him. Even in Noah&#8217;s divorce, when Morris wanted to support him, just as Susan had, he couldn\u2019t get past the remarks Noah made when the two of them were alone. \u201cNow I can finally start getting out there again,\u201d he once said. \u201c<em>I\u2019m off the leash<\/em>.\u201d To that, Morris forced a conspiratorial grin, but he couldn\u2019t force a laugh. <em>A leash. <\/em>Didn\u2019t he realize just how precious having a partner can be? Didn\u2019t he realize how great it is to be tethered at all?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAnd the good times are what matter most, aren\u2019t they?\u201d Morris said. The room had quieted, and Morris thought this an opportunity to reinsert himself. \u201cYou can never lose those. They\u2019re always with you. They make it all worthwhile, don\u2019t they?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Noah tilted his head in mild disagreement and sipped his wine. Morris looked to Susan, hoping that he might find an encouraging smile on her face, but he instead found downturned lips, her chin tucked into her chest as she slowly chewed her potatoes. It read resignation, and when Morris scanned the rest of the table, he found similarly resigned faces. His wan clich\u00e9s then sank to the floor and faded into the carpeting, like dust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\"><strong>*<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-left has-medium-font-size\">Her name was Charlotte. She had been a nurse at Boston Medical who\u2019d helped Morris during a handful of surgeries back in the early nineties. She was nearly half his age, forty to his sixty, a fact which Morris took little pleasure in. Even when they were alone in his office, lying together on that couch of his that overlooked the methadone clinic five stories below, he disliked her youth. It made him feel old. When they had sex, she had a certain agility, a want, that Morris could never match. Her lust poured, while his only trickled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris\u2019s affair with Charlotte lasted three weeks. It might\u2019ve gone on for longer, had Harlan not popped into Morris\u2019s office one morning before rounds to deliver notes he\u2019d made on an article Morris planned to submit to the medical journal Harlan edited. Instead of finding the office empty, he found Charlotte sitting on Morris\u2019s lap, her scrub top on the ground beside them, the smell of sweat in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Harlan yelled. Quick to her feet, Charlotte threw her top back on and tried to apologize to Dr. Kurzweil. He waved her out the door, slamming it as she slipped past him. \u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cDo have any idea what you\u2019re doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris knew not to answer his question\u2014not that he had a good answer ready in the first place. He could hardly explain to him<em>self<\/em> why he\u2019d spent so many early mornings with Charlotte. The sex was great, but had he needed to stray from his marriage? Was he running from Susan?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">He didn\u2019t think so. To Morris, his affair with Charlotte existed in a world where Noah and Susan didn\u2019t exist, and therefore, had nothing to do with them. He just wanted to let loose, to feel some excitement. He wanted to see again what it felt like to have someone new fawning after him. It was an experiment, and it in no way spoke to how he felt about Susan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">But with Harlan standing near, hovering above him like a storm cloud, this compartmentalization seemed so thin. How could his affair ever be separate from his home life? If not emotionally\u2014a laughable hypothetical\u2014how could it not physically bleed over? Would he soon be thinking of Charlotte when he slept with Susan? Would he stop having sex with Susan because he was sated with Charlotte? Would Susan notice?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">As these thoughts materialized in his mind, predictable ones followed: if Harlan told Susan about Charlotte, she\u2019d leave him, without a doubt; unlike himself, Susan wouldn\u2019t be able to tolerate that kind of betrayal. Then, with his misdeeds public, Noah wouldn\u2019t want to talk to him. He\u2019d always been a momma\u2019s boy. He\u2019d feel betrayed on his mother\u2019s behalf. And without Noah, without Susan, what would be left? Who would he have?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">A chill ran through him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cPlease don\u2019t say anything,\u201d Morris said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Harlan waited a moment to respond. He went over to Morris\u2019s desk and took a seat on it, crossing his legs and hanging his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI won\u2019t lie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou won\u2019t have to,\u201d Morris reassured him. \u201cI\u2019ll end things with her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Which he did, suddenly and callously one evening when they were stepping out of the OR\u2014\u201cI can\u2019t do this anymore,\u201d was all he said, before leaving her side and, later, ignoring her calls\u2014but the aftermath of his affair with Charlotte still had its reverberations. He feared aloneness in a way he hadn\u2019t since he was a teenager looking for a date to prom, and the camaraderie Morris had built up with Harlan in the previous decades eroded in part. They still met up for lunch once a month, as they had for years, but Morris could no longer complain about Susan. He tried once, and Harlan had given him an eye. \u201cShe\u2019s a good woman,\u201d he\u2019d said firmly. \u201cYou\u2019re lucky to have her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Standing in Noah\u2019s kitchen beside Susan and Harlan after they\u2019d all finished eating, Morris couldn\u2019t help but think of that brief interaction with Harlan. Would Harlan still say that Susan was a good woman if he knew about her relationship with Daniel? Would he think that Morris deserved this fate, with his affair still undiscovered by Susan? Morris didn\u2019t know, and this uncertainty made his mouth run dry and his palms grow sweaty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThat boy of yours sure can cook,\u201d Harlan commented, leaning against the counter. Morris wasn\u2019t typically a drink-counter, but he\u2019d noticed that Harlan had taken down practically a whole bottle of wine at dinner, and he was now having another glass. Morris was just nearing the end of his second glass. \u201cMakes you wonder what else he could do if he put his mind to it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan mhmm\u2019d. Her eyes were elsewhere, sweeping across Noah\u2019s sky-lit kitchen. Near the stove, which was keeping warm a loaf of chocolate babka that Noah had prepared, were Elaine and Noah, talking excitedly. The two of them shared a love for interior design, and over the years, they found a way to make their discussions about it competitive. They\u2019d suggest a design and go back and forth over which celebrity used it and how, its general popularity, and how it fit in with the trends that surrounded it; their answers were cited with articles from the <em>New York Times<\/em>\u2019 Real Estate section, the <em>Washington Post<\/em>\u2019s Mansion section, and <em>Town and Country<\/em>, which they both read religiously. It was impossible to equivocally determine a winner to their arguments, of course, so the unstated victor was decided by who supplied the most points, regardless of their merit, and who spoke with greater conviction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Across the room, at the island counter, Daniel was getting to know Ira. Of all the people in the room, Morris thought he had the best chance of having Ira take his side if word got out about Susan\u2019s affair with Daniel, since their friendship went so far back, but he also thought that Ira and Daniel had the best chance of hitting it off tonight, among all the people Daniel would meet. Not because they shared many experiences, but because they would likely find common ground through Ira\u2019s ramblings\u2014which seemed to be happening right then. They were standing close to one another, the bulge in Ira\u2019s stomach a few inches from the notches in Daniel\u2019s belt, and they, too, were talking excitedly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhen Noah graduated from Halworth, I was sure he\u2019d become an architect,\u201d Harlan continued. \u201cI remember that day, his graduation. Noah wasn\u2019t interested in introducing us to the friends he\u2019d made, but in bringing Elaine and I to each building on campus. This was during the whole hubbub after the ceremony. I think you two were chatting with some of the other parents. He took us to the chapel, brought us right under the columns near its entrance, and you know what he said? He said, \u2018I wish I could spend every day in a building just like this one.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe probably wanted to spend every day in that chapel because he\u2019d spent half his senior year in its basement with some girl,\u201d Morris said offhandedly. He was looking at Noah and Elaine, who were growing louder. In a flurry, Noah took her by the wrist and led her into the living room. \u201cHe got two citations. The dean called us over it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cBut I <em>do <\/em>think there was a part of him that wanted to become an architect,\u201d Susan argued, her attention now piqued. Her bony arms were wrapped around her stomach, and her narrow hips shifted slightly from side to side. The floral-printed dress she wore hung an inch below her knees, and it bounced with her shifting. \u201cHe loved playing with Legos when he was a boy. He\u2019d spend a whole afternoon making a building as tall as a skyscraper. I think he even took an architecture course in college. But he was always going to become a doctor. He wanted too much to be like his father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris pshawed. \u201cThat\u2019s not true.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cOh, it is,\u201d she said, nodding vigorously. \u201cHe wanted to be just like you. Becoming a doctor was a way for him to connect with you. It was very important to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe could\u2019ve connected with me in plenty of other ways. He didn\u2019t need to become a doctor to connect\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Just then, Elaine barged back into the kitchen with Noah in tow. Her eyes were lit up. \u201cHarlan?\u201d she yelled. \u201cHarlan! Come over here and tell this boy what\u2019s wrong with <em>shabby chic<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Without missing a beat, Harlan placed his drink down on the counter. \u201cDuty calls,\u201d he murmured, and headed towards them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The noise in the room swelled and then softened as the Kurzweil\u2019s and Noah left for the living room. Ira and Daniel were still talking, but they were quieter. Their heads had inched closer to one another, like they were each giving confession. Soon, Daniel put a hand on Ira\u2019s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">For the first time the whole evening, Morris and Susan were alone. With a foot of space between them, they looked more like strangers lost at a party, than like a couple who\u2019d been together for over fifty years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHarlan\u2019s already half in the bag,\u201d Morris said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cElaine says that he\u2019s been drinking more recently. She says it\u2019s the boredom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris pursed his lips in agreement. Then they were silent again. Unlike the silence in the car ride over, which Morris had been fine with, since it meant that he didn\u2019t have to talk about Daniel, this one was excruciating. The seconds stretched longer and longer. How could they ever get around all that divided them? Morris worried. How could he sidestep the space Daniel had taken up at the dinner table, in Susan\u2019s life?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI know this has been tough for you,\u201d Susan said suddenly, putting a hand on the counter behind Morris\u2019s back. Her voice was a whisper. Morris tensed up. \u201cYou know I don\u2019t want to embarrass you or make you feel ashamed in anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYour family loves you. <em>I <\/em>love you. I don\u2019t want you to forget that, no matter what.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris sighed heavily. He never <em>wanted<\/em> to forget the love they shared, but how could he be expected to remember their love, when, through the day, Daniel\u2019s texts laid unopened on her phone? When she returned home with the smell of his cologne sticking to her skin? How was he supposed to feel comforted by the knowledge of her love, when Daniel was sitting only fifteen yards away from them, talking with his oldest friend?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI know you love me,\u201d Morris said, \u201cbut somedays, it feels like you\u2019re already gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan shook her head gently. Then, to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his chest. As it always had, her head fit snugly under Morris\u2019s chin. In his grasp, she looked like a woodland animal readying itself for a deep sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Staring at the top of her head, Morris felt a rush of emotion, which, of all things, reminded him of how he felt the evening they had their first kiss. They were eighteen then, in the back of Morris\u2019s dad\u2019s station wagon, parked outside of Susan\u2019s house. Her legs were kicked up in his lap, her back comforted by the car\u2019s frame and Morris\u2019s arm. He knew he wanted to kiss her, he knew this was the time, so he braved the space that separated them\u2014but unfortunately, his lips couldn\u2019t reach hers. His stomach twisted into knots, and he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of the shame that might fill him up if he opened them and caught fear or contempt in Susan\u2019s eyes. Luckily, she quickly made up the distance: She took the back of his head in her hand and used it to pull herself close, to press her lips against his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWe should take a trip together,\u201d Susan said, looking up at him. \u201cJust you and me. We can go anywhere you want.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris nodded, and grew teary. He lifted his head to take a deep breath, to swallow the sob that was rising in his throat, and saw Daniel and Ira looking in his direction. They looked scared, perturbed by his open expression. They averted their gazes. Then, they got up and left the room. Leaving just Morris and Susan to enjoy each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\"><strong>*<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-left has-medium-font-size\">The babka came out better than Morris expected. The clean ripples of chocolate that had cut through it like a stream. Steam that had shifted off its top, before dispersing about the middle of Noah\u2019s living room, where the whole group now sat around a glass-topped coffee table: Harlan and Elaine on a couch opposite the couch Noah and Ira shared, Daniel in a reading chair at one end, and Morris and Susan side-by-side on the other. A relaxed drunkenness had fallen over the group, covering them like a shawl. The two couples leaned on their partners; even Noah and Ira were leaning on each other, with Noah\u2019s back resting squarely on Ira\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">If the glass table wasn\u2019t so fragile, Morris might\u2019ve kicked his feet on it. Although uncertain of where he exactly stood with Susan, he was still buoyed by relief. That embrace. Susan <em>did <\/em>love him. He\u2019d never doubted that, but\u2014well, maybe he had. Maybe he\u2019d felt in the weeks leading up to this evening that she loved Daniel <em>more <\/em>than him. But that couldn\u2019t be true. The five month affair she and Daniel have been having could never compare to the lifetime he and Susan had shared. The embrace they\u2019d shared proved that enough to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNoah,\u201d Ira mewled, as he rubbed a tired hand on Noah\u2019s back. \u201cHave you made up the guest bed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cJust before you arrived,\u201d Noah said, with closed eyes. On the table before him was an empty chocolate-dusted plate and an empty glass. \u201cThere\u2019s a towel by the bed, too, for the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Ira nodded, then turned to his side, where Daniel sat. Daniel\u2019s tie was undone, its ends draped over his chest. \u201cWill you be spending the night, too?\u201d Ira asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMaybe if I have another one of these,\u201d Daniel said, smiling, lifting his empty glass. \u201cSpeaking of\u2014Noah, I brought a bottle for you. I must\u2019ve forgotten it on my way in. Mind if I go out and grab it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cPlease,\u201d Noah said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Daniel got to his feet and headed for the front door. It was heavy, and it boomed when the lock clicked into place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNow, <em>that\u2019s<\/em> a mensch,\u201d Harlan said, jabbing a finger at the door. He was beginning to sound loose, and one eye\u2019s gaze was starting to drift slowly away from the other\u2019s. \u201cBet he comes back with the best bottle you\u2019ve ever had.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe seems very nice,\u201d Elaine added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201c<em>Very<\/em> nice,\u201d Harlan echoed. \u201cWhere\u2019d you say you met him, Susan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris saw Susan stiffen at the question. There was no lie to tell here, but Susan sat up an inch and cleared her throat as if there were. Morris took pleasure in seeing Susan\u2019s nerves. A just punishment for her poor choices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAt the fundraiser\u2019s board at the Children\u2019s hospital. He joined not long after I did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI don\u2019t remember you ever making friends there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan shrugged daintily. She was saved from any follow-up questions, since the front door opened a second later. Daniel walked across the room, bottle in hand, and once he reached Noah, he offered the bottle to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI don\u2019t know much about this bottle,\u201d Daniel admitted. \u201cA friend recommended it to me. He\u2019s an enthusiast, with a wine cellar the size of this room. Nobody knows wine better than him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Noah accepted the bottle and twisted it in his hands, scrutinizing the label. Without looking up at him, he put a hand on Daniel\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt looks great,\u201d he said. &#8220;Could you go grab the bottle opener? It\u2019s in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Daniel hurried off, then came back a second later. Taking the bottle from Noah, he uncorked it and stepped up to the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAnyone want a refill?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Glasses were raised. Bending over the table, Daniel refilled Harlan\u2019s, Noah\u2019s, Ira\u2019s, and Susan\u2019s glasses. They each took long sips, and, in satisfaction, leaned back into the cushions behind them. They murmured their compliments, and brought their glasses to their lips for another sip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Then, last in line, Daniel bent towards Morris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHow about you, Moe? Want some?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris studied the bottle, then the glass in his hand. It was empty, and had been since he\u2019d eaten the babka. He could\u2019ve gone for more, yet, when he looked up at Daniel\u2019s beckoning expression, he felt a flame ignite in his stomach. Where\u2019d he get off on calling him <em>Moe<\/em>? Offering him wine in <em>his son\u2019s <\/em>house?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">But, just as quickly as the flame was lit, it was extinguished. Morris was on the path to winning back Susan, after all. He could let this go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI\u2019m all set,\u201d Morris said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Nodding\u2014disappointingly unaffected\u2014Daniel put the bottle on the table and took his seat. The only noise in the room now came faintly from the sound-system: an early Neil Young album that Noah\u2019d put on. Listening intently, Noah\u2019s gaze drifted about the room to the many antiques he\u2019d bought on his trips following the Celtics. Harlan took comfort in Elaine\u2019s shoulder, as she rested her head on his. Susan leaned on Morris lightly, and Daniel, with glazed eyes, was twiddling the ends of one of his shoelaces, pleased and consumed, like a cat with string.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The stillness of the group was broken by Ira. He threw back the last of his glass in a large gulp, lifted Noah off his shoulder, and picked up the bottle for a refill. He studied it, spinning it around in his palms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIs this the same bottle you brought to Susan\u2019s the other day?\u201d he asked, turning to Daniel. \u201cI remember this font.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Daniel dropped his shoelace. He looked over to Susan, who was now looking back at him, closely. He then quickly looked to Elaine, who was also glaring. Morris, who was still somewhat lost in the reverie of the music, had barely digested what was said, and had only mildly registered the room\u2019s flitting eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cNo\u2014No,\u201d Daniel said. \u201cIt\u2019s a different brand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cOh,\u201d Ira said airily. \u201cI could\u2019ve sworn it was, but what do I know? The bottles all look the same to me\u2014and I like it that way. If I ever reach the point where I can tell one from the other and know how much each costs, I\u2019m in trouble. I have an addictive personality, you know. I was a smoker for thirty years until Miriam and Linda forced me to quit, god bless them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Satisfied, Ira put down the bottle and sat back in his chair, at just about the same time Morris sat up. Their words were sinking in. What was this Ira had said about Daniel coming over to his house? When did that happen? Whathappened?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou were over last week?\u201d Morris said to Daniel. Like it\u2019d been pulled from his mouth, his breath grew short, and his cheeks and ears grew hot. From his side, he felt Susan shrinking on the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYe-es,\u201d Daniel stammered. His eyes were down, and the glaze that\u2019d coated them was removed. He darted a look about quickly\u2014at who?\u2014but whatever he saw didn\u2019t change his tone. \u201cIt was Monday afternoon. We\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt was only for a little while,\u201d Elaine interjected. The worry in her voice was sheathed by pointedness, a typical move of hers when losing an argument. \u201cWe had a bottle of wine. Ira was stopping by to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI was,\u201d Ira said, his voice weak. \u201cDid I say something\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWho else was there?\u201d Morris\u2019s insides was now roiling, and his mind was churning, albeit not very quickly. He could tell that pieces of a puzzle were being laid before him, but he couldn\u2019t sort them out. \u201cNoah, were you there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">His son had turned and pulled his legs up onto the couch, with the bottom of a foot pressing against Ira\u2019s thigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI was,\u201d he said. \u201cMom asked me over.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris dropped his head an inch, then another. He wiped a palm across his eyes, and, unwillingly, regrettably, pictured Elaine, Susan, Noah, and Daniel on their back patio last Sunday\u2014on <em>his<\/em> back patio: Daniel, with his kind and goyish eyes, similar to those that all the mentors Noah had at Halworth had, sitting at the patio table; Noah, dressed neatly in a polo and khakis, as he always was, sitting beside him; Elaine, Susan\u2019s best friend, standing beside Susan in honor; and Susan, at the head of their table, her palms pressed flat against it. What had they said? What had they plotted?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhat were they all doing at our house, Susan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan shifted further from him on the couch, and pulled her feet up beside her, mirroring her son\u2019s posture. Her eyes couldn\u2019t meet his. Her gaze instead settled on his forehead, right between his eyebrows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt was just a small get-together,\u201d she said, failing to sound soothing. \u201cThat\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cA small get together, Sue? But you toldme\u2014you <em>told <\/em>me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Morris couldn\u2019t bear to finish his sentence in front of the party, but the air in the room was sucked out with his unfinished statement nevertheless, for, even though Harlan wasn\u2019t in the know about Daniel, and Ira apparently wasn\u2019t clued in, either, the other four could guess how it would finish: <em>You <\/em>told <em>me you wouldn\u2019t tell anyone about Daniel<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cOkay, what is going on?\u201d Harlan boomed, finally throwing his hat in the ring. \u201cWhat did Daniel\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201c<em>Harlan<\/em>,\u201d Elaine spat, taking his arm in hers. \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to start anything, Moe,\u201d Ira said. \u201cI was just curious about the bottle. That\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cC\u2019mon, Moe,\u201d Susan said, talking over them all. She put a hand on Morris&#8217;s. \u201cLet\u2019s go to the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Susan\u2019s hand, cold and un-calloused, weighed heavily on Morris. He knew better, but all he wanted to do was hold it. When had holding it not brought him comfort? Only twenty minutes ago, when they embraced, when she made that offer to travel together just the two of them, holding her had made him feel whole again, after weeks and months of aloneness. Why wouldn\u2019t it now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Yet, his hand didn\u2019t move. He couldn\u2019t let it. He couldn\u2019t pretend like they were on the same team\u2014not now, not like he had these past few months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhy were they there, Susan?\u201d he finally said. He pulled his hand out from under hers. \u201cWhy wasn\u2019t <em>I <\/em>there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMoe, please,\u201d she said, and again tried for his hand, more gently, her fingers laying on his. \u201cLet\u2019s go. We\u2019ll talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">This time, Morris didn\u2019t wait to pull his hand away. He yanked it back and rose to his feet. Standing tall, he looked down at the group, and felt a bitterness coat his tongue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou all went behind my back,\u201d he spat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">No one responded, no one moved, no one took their eyes off of Morris\u2014until Susan got up and went towards him. She stepped closer, closer. Looking into his eyes, hers appeared stony, unmoving. The sympathy Morris had seen in them during their embrace wasn\u2019t there anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201c<em>Moe<\/em>, don\u2019t make a\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt\u2019s better that it\u2019s out in the open,\u201d Elaine chimed in, before Morris himself could cut Susan off. Elaine was at the edge of her seat, ready to get up and join Susan. \u201cNow you all don\u2019t have to go around hiding.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cLaney, it wasn\u2019t <em>all <\/em>of<em>\u2014<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cShe\u2019s right,\u201d Noah chimed in, his voice a bit stronger than before. His legs were still folded into Ira\u2019s side, though, and his face held a mixture of guilt and righteousness. \u201cIt\u2019s better not to keep secrets.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cOh, Noah,\u201d Morris roared, \u201c<em>You<\/em> don\u2019t get to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And then, the last voice that should\u2019ve chimed in did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWe don\u2019t have to talk about it, everyone,\u201d Daniel said to the group. \u201cWe can wait until Moe\u2019s ready. We shouldn\u2019t rush him. This is a lot. Moe,\u201d he looked at Morris, \u201cwe\u2019re here whenever you\u2019re ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Daniel got to his feet, wobbled a bit, and stepped towards the fractured couple. To be the mediator, Morris supposed, to separate the two of them in case one of them\u2014Morris, no doubt\u2014did something they might regret. The path between him and the couple was narrow, blocked by the ends of his chair and the coffee table. Had he been sober, this would\u2019ve been easy to traverse, but with his tipsiness, it was trouble: a toe of his got caught as he lifted a foot to cross a corner of the coffee table. He teetered, leaning forward, and reached out to Morris\u2014the nearest person\u2014hoping he\u2019d grab him and keep him from falling forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Time slowed rapidly, then. Instinctually, Morris knew that the expression on Daniel\u2019s face was one he would never forget: his eyes bright, his mouth slightly agape, his gaze trained on Morris. All else surrounding him would evaporate with time, but the face would remain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">It was the smallest movement. Small enough that, if Morris really wanted to argue, he could claim it didn\u2019t happen at all. Instead of reaching out to catch the hand Daniel stretched towards him, or just letting his hand catch Morris\u2019s shoulder, Morris twisted his chest out of the way. Just a tiny twist, a few inches at most. He didn\u2019t even have to think about it. Just seeing Daniel so panicked, so vulnerable\u2014his body made the choice itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And so, Daniel fell: He extended a hand to catch himself\u2014Not on the ground, though, but on the glass coffee table, since that\u2019s where he was falling. As if breaking the surface of a pond, Daniel\u2019s hand crashed through the glass, the heel of his palm leading the way. On top of a few glittering shards, Daniel\u2019s palm hit the floor, then his shoulder, as he turned to the side to protect himself. His head skimmed the shattered rim of the table, his feet hit the opposite rim, jutting them upwards. The remaining glass shards around the table\u2019s edge continued to rain down, until they all sat on the floor, beside Daniel\u2019s dazed body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Time slowed even more, now, to a near stop. The moment captured as if in a jar, so Morris could study it later, when his doubts arose, which they often would in the coming weeks. On the evenings he spent alone in his house, pacing the kitchen, waiting for dinner to magically appear out of nowhere; when he surfed potential matches on Match and E-Harmony. He would think back to this moment and wonder why he had let Daniel fall into the coffee table. Why couldn\u2019t he have just caught him? He could\u2019ve sucked up the embarrassment of learning about Susan\u2019s betrayal that evening and worked things out later, couldn\u2019t he?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">But then he would remember how the moment unfurled: how the group jumped to the floor to tend to Daniel, who had quickly reoriented himself and showed that he was unharmed, except for a small bump on his head and some thin cuts on his hands; how, after securing that Daniel wasn\u2019t stunned or seriously injured, Susan had looked at Morris in such fury; and how he had looked back at her and felt the same fury. Her heart was more with Daniel than with him. That enough was now clear to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And he would remember how he felt the next morning, when Susan returned home after spending the night at Noah\u2019s and told Morris why she\u2019d let slip the secret of her relationship with Daniel. \u201cElaine\u2019s my best friend,\u201d she said. \u201cI needed to talk about Daniel with <em>somebody<\/em>. And it felt unfair to have Noah spend time with this man and then later tell him that he was actually his mother\u2019s boyfriend. Imagine how blindsided he would\u2019ve felt.\u201d Morris knew that, with this brief explanation, Susan hoped that he\u2019d regret letting Daniel fall. But he didn\u2019t. In fact, hearing her speak so plainly of her justifications for her actions only made him feel more resolute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And yet\u2014and yet. Through all this internal back-and-forth, what he remembered best on those lonely evenings was what he saw when he stormed out of his son\u2019s house, on that first night of Pesach. Alone, on the sidewalk, he looked out at the Atlantic, its surf knocking against the pewter-colored rocks that struck a few dozen yards out into the water, and he spotted in the darkness a gull fly down from the sky to pick up a crab traveling across those rocks. The gull rose a dozen feet, its beak pointed towards the moon, but it quickly dropped the crab, whose stiff shell was too slick to hold. Hurtling, the crab\u2019s claws churned slowly<strong>, <\/strong>until it crashed into a crumbling wave, subsumed by the tide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Note. <\/em>\u2018The Two-Minute Haggadah\u2019 was written by Michael Rubiner and published by \u2018Slate\u2019 on March 25th, 2013.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>Benjamin Selesnick<\/strong> lives and writes in New Jersey. His work has appeared in <em>decomp, Lunch Ticket, SFWP Quarterly<\/em>, and other publications. He holds an MFA in fiction from Rutgers University-Newark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"alignleft size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"438\" height=\"211\" src=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-15484\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg 438w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1-300x145.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 438px) 100vw, 438px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-large-font-size\">&lt;&lt; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2022\/09\/15\/over-the-edge\/\">Back<\/a> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2022\/11\/14\/post-modern-polonius\/\">Next<\/a> &gt;&gt;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">To learn more about submitting your work to <em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/boudin-submissions\/\">Boudin<\/a><\/em> or applying to McNeese State University&#8217;s Creative Writing <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/mfa-application-submissions\/\">MFA program<\/a>, please visit Submissions for details.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Boyfriend Benjamin Selesnick __________ The dining room was one of the larger rooms in Noah\u2019s Atlantic-facing colonial. It had a vaulted ceiling, a glassed-encased display at one end of the cedar-cut table that held a collection of plaques and trophies he\u2019d accrued over the past decade working as the on-call physician for the Celtics,&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":42,"featured_media":14314,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[243,135],"tags":[137,75,133,26],"class_list":["post-14316","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-boudin-2022","category-boudin-september-22-edition","tag-benjaminselesnick","tag-boudin","tag-september22edition","tag-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14316","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/42"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14316"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14316\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21335,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14316\/revisions\/21335"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/14314"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14316"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14316"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14316"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}