OUTSIDE THE BUBBLE

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shidduch, the whole matter had receded into some hole deep in her brain. Brachi was almost seventy by now, and happily remarried. She had her own grandchildren, her husband’s grandchildren, and at least two from the son they'd had together.

Michoel coughed. She didn’t know if it was just the awkwardness of it all; something about it sounded too genuine. “I don’t remember when exactly you made that suggestion," he said. “But I remember you said that it’s something really good… Based on my calculations, she should be about forty, forty-five now. And if she’s still interested in getting married, maybe we can revisit that shidduch… I was too arrogant back then, I think.”

***

Mike’s medical forms had just one record of a visit to a clinical dietician, but Paul Kanishevsky, the dietician he'd seen, refused to give her parents any information, as Mike was over age eighteen.

Still, Daddy had said that the private investigator had ways of obtaining information even if the clinical dietician wasn’t happy to give it, and he came back two days later and said that indeed, it was noted that Mike was suspected of developing anorexia nervosa, and it was wise to keep an eye on it.

It was not clear to her what the words ‘suspected of developing’ meant—what was this, ballistic missiles? These adults and the way they used words… It was funny, as were those people in the medical field who also liked to use strange words.

“Anorexia nervosa,” the investigator told Mommy and Daddy. “That confirms what we suspected. Either he is hospitalized in some eating disorder department, or he is in South Carolina by those guys. They ostensibly treat mental illness.”

“Anorexia nervosa? For a boy?” Mommy wondered.

“The percentage of males who suffer from this is indeed one-twentieth of females, but still, if we speak about America alone, that’s tens of thousands of people.”

“But he’s not even thin,” Daddy protested. “They always say anorexics become skeletal, don’t they? He’s nowhere near looking like that!”

“He was doing lots of sports in recent weeks,” Mommy murmured. “Maybe to lose weight.”

“But he wasn’t very successful.”

“Still, the dietician took this possibility seriously; he probably showed enough of the symptoms,” the investigator interjected.

Becky wanted to say that he was speaking nonsense. Because there had been one time, maybe two weeks before Mike disappeared, that he had taken a huge serving of ice cream, and had offered her a cone too. Then he didn’t feel so good, and he even threw up… He threw up! She was almost sure of it. She didn’t wait, and took the stairs two at a time, dashing right into the open door of Daddy’s study.

“Becky?!” her father chided sternly.

“There were more symptoms, Daddy, Mommy,” she said, not looking at the investigator.

“More symptoms?” Mommy asked.

“Yes. He threw up once,” she said, and suddenly she felt very embarrassed. A big girl didn’t listen to adult conversations, and certainly didn’t mix in, especially when there were strangers around who would think that she was talking nonsense and that she was an impolite child with no manners.

Well, it was sometimes very hard to be polite, but she had to at least try.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and swallowed. She turned back to the stairs to go up to her room. She was supposed to be doing math homework now; too bad she hadn’t stayed doing just that.

“Don’t go, Becky,” Daddy said. She couldn’t decide if he sounded angry or not. “Come in, we want to hear more. When did Mike throw up?”

“One night, about…maybe a month ago. You weren’t home from work yet, and Mommy was…I don’t remember where Mommy was.”

“And what happened?” Mommy asked quietly.

“Mike was in the kitchen, and he was eating ice cream. He gave me some also. Then he said he didn’t feel well, and that the ice cream was dancing in his stomach. He was pale, and he sat on the chair without moving. Then he went to the bathroom, and I heard him almost crying there. And I think he also threw up.”

Fishel Schachter