36
Toronto 1961
My second attempt at sleep that evening turned out to be no more successful than the first. At least this time, I was lying down in a bed wearing pajamas when the phone rang. I reached for the receiver, knocked it off the side table and searched around on the floor for it. Might have been better if I had my eyes open but dark was dark.
“Mmmyaaa. Yeah? What?”
“Mo. Mo. Are you awake? It’s gone. Gone I tell you.”
“Whaa…? What’s gone? Miryam?”
“Yes, it’s me. Now wake up. Please.”
“Jeezus. What time is it?”
“Just after two. In the morning.”
“So, what’s gone?”
“The house. My house. They burned it down.” And she sobbed into the phone. Miryam was tough, always had been, so I hadn’t heard or seen her cry much. I sat up and ran a hand through my matted hair.
“Okay. I’ll me
