Astrid Amara (16 page)

encounter of anal sex, apparently the rest of my family sat deep in discourse. After extensive

deliberation, both my father and my uncle agreed to sell the pushke to a museum, where the

public would have a chance to share in its beauty. My father generously agreed to split any

profits from the sale with Al.

My mother disliked any solution that did not involve her keeping the treasure forever

and ever, but nevertheless seemed relieved that my father and his brother were on speaking

terms again.

The conversation during the meal was excited and rushed. As for me, I was just happy

to see my family by electric light for the first time in a week. And I was also thrilled to be

leaving.

My mother asked me to light the last Hanukkah candle and lead the prayer. I sat down

next to Ethan. As soon as the candles were lit my uncle cleared his throat.

“Jonah,” he said.

I looked to him.

“I’m sorry.” Uncle Al offered me his hand. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

I shook his hand

“It’s all right,” I said. “I was hiding something -- just not what you thought.”

Al looked puzzled for a moment. “What, the gay thing? You think this is something

new? I told your father you were one of those homosexuals way back when you were twelve

years old.”

I looked at him, appalled. Mostly that I was so obviously gay at twelve, but also that my

family seemingly suspected my nature years before I myself even really understood it.

“You knew?” I looked from Uncle Al to my father, who gave an apologetic shrug.

“I suspected, but I didn’t want to push you,” my father said. “I figured you’d work it out

for yourself.”

Holiday Outing

123

“Who knew this would take you so long?” my mother complained. “Everything is like

this with you, taking forever to make up your mind.” Instead of criticism, I heard warm

teasing in her voice.

As the menorah candles sputtered and died, my mother dropped a hefty slice of cake

on my plate and then nodded, as if to herself.

“You know what you need, Jonah,” she said.

I sighed. “You mean besides a medical degree, an art career, and a golfing hobby?”

“You need a nice, Jewish man,” she told me.

I stared at her in silence. She and the rest of my family looked back at me, smiling.

I cleared my throat, overcome.

“Actually, I already have one,” I told her, my voice slightly shaky. I deliberately put my

arm around Ethan’s shoulder.

Ethan winked at me.

“And best of all, Ma…” I smiled back at him. “He’s a doctor.”

THE END

Astrid Amara

Astrid Amara lives in Bellingham, Washington, with one man, two dogs, and countless

mice. She served in the U.S. Peace Corps and works as a civil servant paid by your tax dollars.

When she isn't working or writing, she is either riding horses or sleeping.

She is the author of The Archer’s Heart, available at Blind Eye Books, and Intimate

Traitors, A Policy of Lies, and Next of Kin in the anthology Hell Cop, available at Loose Id®.

Visit Astrid on the Web at http://www.astridamara.com.