“Maybe I don’t even want to go to college,” Eli mumbles.

We have approximately three minutes before Ken will finish hanging up his keys and taking off his shoes by the front door. I give Eli a stern look. He rolls his eyes.

Ken appears in the kitchen doorway. “What’s this about college?”

“Maybe I don’t want to go,” Eli says. “Maybe I want to do something else. Get into cybersecurity. I don’t need to go to school for four years for that. And then I can get a good job, start making money right away—”

“Of course you’ll go to college.” Ken dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Who’s been filling your head with this stuff? Just because your friends have some crazy ideas, that doesn’t mean you have to follow along with them.”

Eli’s laugh is not as happy as the one he gave me earlier. “Right. My friends are influencing me. Sure.”

Ken has to be joking, right? Eli is not popular. He doesn’t have friends. It’s like his father has simply glossed over that knowledge. I’m not the only doll Ken wants in this family.

“We’ll discuss this later, Champ,” Ken says. To me, he asks, “Dinner?”

I’m taken aback. “It’s only three thirty.”

“I’m starving,” Ken declares in a booming voice, exuberant. Enthusiastic. “I’ve looked forward to your cooking all week. Rearranged my schedule to make sure I got home sooner than planned. It’s Friday, right? Are you doing Shabbat?”

Shabbat is not something I “do” or “don’t do.” It is an integral part of my week. I’ve always celebrated the Friday night sabbath, but Ken’s gone so often that maybe it has never occurred to him that the special meal I make every week happens whether or not he’s there to share it. And why would he? There’s nothing in my life that’s not supposed to be meant, somehow, for him.

“Yes. It’s Shabbat. Dinner should be ready in a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best. You know that? What a rockstar. Isn’t your mother amazing, Eli? You should tell her how much you appreciate everything she does for us.” Ken turns to him. “Go on.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

This effusive praise makes me uncomfortable—not because it’s bad to be appreciated, but because of how exaggerated Ken is making it seem. Eli shoots me a look, but I can only shrug. When Ken pulls me close for a kiss, Eli flees so he doesn’t have to see his parents being affectionate.

“What’s gotten into you?” I ask. He’s always been so cautious about exposing Eli to anything “inappropriate.” Now he’s practically shoving his tongue down my throat in front of him.

“Can’t a man show how much he loves his wife?”

“Of course you can. I’m just surprised.”

He hugs me close, pressing his lips to my hair. “You shouldn’t be. Without you, Jewelann, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Then he’s stepping back, already distant, dusting off his hands as though he finished a chore he’d been putting off and finally managed to complete. Paperwork, he says, in his office. He’ll be up in time for dinner.