“He has between thirty and sixty relatives, dear,” my father remarked.

“Okay. As soon as you set the date, let me know so I can call the caterer for Shabbat dinner and lunch on the day of the aufruf.” She spoke to Koby. “You’ll have it in our shul, I take it. Unless you want to do it in your shul.”

“Your beit knesset is fine.”

Rina was beaming. “This is so exciting. I can’t wait to meet your family. And don’t worry, Koby. We’ll put them all up. It’s not a problem.”

My dad was massaging a wrinkled forehead. Koby put his arm around his shoulder. “Now you see why I left.”

Sammy came back in and kissed his mother. “Eema, Eema, you’ve gained a son and I’ve gained a forward!” He scrutinized Koby’s face. “I guess you can call her Eema although she’s only what, ten years older than you?”

“No, she’s ten years older than I am,” I said. “She’s only six—”

“Can we move on?” Dad interjected.

“It’s irrelevant because mother is a state of mind,” Rina pronounced. “Besides, Cindy’s mother would be eema.”

“No, my mother will be mom,” I told her. “Definitely not eema.”

“My stepmother is Eema,” Koby said. “To me, you are Rina because that’s what Cindy calls you. Besides, Rina fits your face.”

“Whatever you want, Yaakov.”

He focused his eyes on Daddy’s face. “My question is … what do I call you, sir?”

“What do you call me?”

“Yes.”

Decker rubbed his hands and thought a moment. “Lieutenant is fine.”

“Peter!” Rina chastised.

“It’s my title.”

“Maybe a little less formal, Daddy?”

“No problem.” He threw his arm around my fiancé’s shoulder. “Koby, my man … you can call me Loo.”