“Goodbye, Daddy,” I say, loud enough for just myself and him to hear, like the little secrets he and I used to keep. The casket in front of me breaks my heart for what I’ve lost.

I glance over the hill and shed a tear for what I never had.

Part One

PART ONE

“We are stardust brought to life,

then empowered by the universe to figure itself out—

and we have only just begun.”

― Neil deGrasse Tyson, Astrophysics for People in a Hurry

Chapter One

Chapter One

Ruth

1983, Atlanta, GA

Shabbat Shalom

The words come—sudden, unexpected. A greeting my heart offers when there is no one to reply. No one for me to say it to. Friday evenings, once a day of rest, a Sabbath, are now the most restless days of the week. My soul churns, yearns for rest, but there is no peace here tonight.

“Your ass is set!”

My husband Alfred’s animated words thunder from the living room, shattering the small moment of quiet I found for myself by a steaming tub of water. It’s our first time having anyone over since we moved. With the food out, our new neighbors all entertained, I used my baby’s nighttime bath as an excuse to slip away. Despite my melancholy mood, Alfred’s laughter and booming voice coax the corners of my mouth up in a smile.

“Sounds like Daddy’s winning,” I say, pressing my nose to my son’s. He gurgles back, laughing and stretching his little starfish palm toward my face. He squirms as I lower him into the warm water. A grin squints the corners of eyes the same color as mine, a blue so deep it’s almost purple. The contrast with his golden skin and cap of springy dark curls is striking. Some of me. Some of his father. Wholly himself.

Is he adopted?

The cashier had asked today, the syllables dragged into a molasses drawl, her wide eyes flicking between my son and me. It’s not the first time I’ve been asked that since we moved to Georgia. Even in New York, this petite Jewish woman carrying this baby boy drew the occasional stare. But here? Every time I venture out, they can’t seem to look away. Some are discreet, at least trying to hide their curiosity, but many don’t even bother. From my experience so far, the famous Southern hospitality is, at least in our case, overruled by good old-fashioned nosiness. Sometimes outright rudeness.

I squeeze baby shampoo into my palm and rub it into his soft hair. “What have we done bringing you here, Ezra?”

I was so ready to get away from my family in New York, I didn’t fully consider where we were going. My husband couldn’t turn down a full ride to Emory University, and my mother and I were barely speaking by then.