I remember receiving my invitation to join the East Village Synagogue in New York vividly, because it was both one of the best and worst days of my life. I still have the original letter somewhere, crinkled and yellowed with age. I woke up early on a Saturday morning, which was odd for me. I'd already heard my father shuffling around so I wasn't planning on leaving my bedroom until he left for some reason or another. But by chance, I walked to my window for a cigarette just as our postman was walking up our drive.
It had been several weeks since my eighteenth birthday, countless weeks since I'd sent away my forms to the American embassy. Esti had just recently sent hers off, as her birthday was a few months after mine. She had been so excited; but we had to be so secretive.
She wasn't even allowed inside our house anymore, the Rav turned her away at the door when he was in. At school, the teachers ignored me and always found reasons for Esti to be busy when I happened to be around. My timetable had even been modified, to be the opposite of hers. It was all my fathers doing, I knew it was. Though Esti thought I was being paranoid.
He'd given me countless lectures on my selfishness, my sinful choices, the despicable way in which I wanted to drag Esti down with me. I'd heard it all. We were barely speaking, my father and me, so I didn't want to go downstairs but I did anyway. I double jumped the steps down, still with the cigarette in my mouth, yanked the door open and the postman's smiling face greeted me. He handed me a bundle of letters and I thanked him before shutting the door quietly. I rifled through them, my heart thudding against my ribs. I was starting to lose hope for what felt like the hundredth time, when I saw it. A large, white envelope with a bright stamp on; an eagle's head against an American flag. I almost vomited on the spot. I dropped the other letters and darted for my room.
I tore the envelope open with sweaty, shaking hands. I scanned the letter quickly.
Invited on tourist visa... you will pay for cost of flight... all other expenses covered... look forward to welcoming you...
I went through a surge of different emotions. I was still trembling as I thought it all through. On my eighteenth birthday I had received some money, rather reluctantly, from my father as part of my mother's will. My flight was covered, and Esti's was too if she needed it, which I knew she would. My family wasn't rich by any means, but her parents were so frugal that Esti still wore her mother's old school uniform. I had to tell Esti immediately, I was so eager to tell her I almost ran out of the house without any clothes on.
I realised and got dressed; I knew where I'd wait for her. The place we'd always meet whenever either of us were free. Sometimes one of us would be waiting hours hoping that the other would turn up, even if it was just for a few minutes. We'd created a sort of bunker in the grass field behind my house, we had outgrown the hydrangea bush a while ago. My legs had grown too long for it to be comfortable anymore, so we had to improvise.
In the very centre of the tall grass, there was a dip in the earth and a load of old building supplies that had been left behind by a construction company. We'd taken one of the sheets of metal and rested it over two dense stacks of bricks; it covered us from the pouring rain and protected us if the sun was too hot. But most days it would be cool and dry enough for us to lay in the grass without a shelter. Those days where we could both stare at the sky and hold hands; and talk about our future... they're the days I remember the most.
I darted to the front door and had just opened it a fraction when I heard him.
'Ronit.' His deep voice grumbled down the stairs. 'Come here.'
I scowled, loud enough so that he would hear me. I climbed back up the stairs, worried he'd stop me from going out. Saturday mornings were always spent with Esti.
