Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“You okay?” Ezra asks from the doorway.
I jump guiltily and step away from the wall.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be nosy. The door was open and I was...”
Ezra lifts both brows and smiles a bit. “Curious?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I look back to the wall, running a finger over a photo of the three of them at the Space Needle in Seattle. “Noah’s been all over, huh?”
“He loves to travel.” Ezra walks up beside me, studying the photos. “Next year, he wants to go to Israel. Shocking.”
“I love how interested he is in his Jewish heritage.”
Ezra breathes out a laugh and shakes his head. “A lot more interested than I am. He asked me if I’ll start taking him to synagogue. I am not that Jew. I was a lot more involved when I was younger, but mostly because of my mom and Bubbe. As I got older, there were some things I wanted to keep, and some that just didn’t matter as much to me.”
“We all have to figure that stuff out for ourselves.” I slip my arm through the crook of his. “I still am half the time.”
“Mom is determined to get her a good Jewish boy even if she has to skip a generation. Remember how miserable we were on the weekends when we couldn’t play because of Shabbat?”
“Our mothers got sick of us, but we always complained when we couldn’t be together.”
“We always wanted to be together as kids.” He kisses my temple, pulling me in closer to his side. “Seems like not much has changed, huh? How do you think they’ll react to us?”
“I guess we’ll find out after it’s actually broken off with Aiko once and for all.”
There’s a loaded, stiffening silence. He pulls back and looks down at me.
“It already is broken off. It’s just a matter of telling Noah,” he says. “You know that, right? I’m not some guy trying to fool a side chick into being with me. I just have to do what’s best for Noah.”
“I believe you. I guess being up here in your room, in her space and seeing her life with you—I just realize you’ve been together a long time.”
“We have been and half that time it wasn’t working. We’ve put this off much longer than we should have. It was going to happen regardless of us, Tru. I promise you that.”
I see the truth in his eyes, but I also see the truth on these walls. It twists my insides to think I might have any part in breaking up a family.
“I better get going.” I make my smile extra bright, but he isn’t fooled.
“Kimba—”
“No, I just need to get home.”
He nods, obviously reluctant to let the subject go. Neither of us says much as we walk down the stairs and to the garage. I try to push aside the guilt… Is it guilt I’m feeling over Aiko? Why should I feel guilty? She’s screwing some guy in Tanzania. Ezra said this imminent break-up would have happened with or without me back in his life. I tell myself all those things, but when Ezra opens the door for me, and I climb into his Land Rover, I—
“Wait. You pushing a Rover?” I ask, surprise and amusement effectively squelching my conflicted inner monologue. “Well, look at you.”
He rolls his eyes and backs out of the garage, but a tiny tilt at the corner of his mouth is enough to encourage me to continue.
“Being a brilliant educator must pay well.”
“Not as well as electing presidents, I’m sure.”
“I do all right, but the book deal was quite lucrative. Who’s your agent? What kind of deal did they offer? I’m telling you, Ezra, your book is fantastic and once it’s published, your whole life will change.”
“I like my life as it is.” He turns his attention away from the street long enough to spare me a quick smile. “When I was approached about writing the book, someone had seen one of the videos on our Instagram account and thought we had a story to tell.”
“They were right. Reading about your early days frustrated as a teacher, how you’ve built something for families who might otherwise have had to settle for an inferior education—it’s inspiring.”
“I want more people to know about our students and our story,” he says. “More donors and investors so we can continue helping students who can’t afford private school and live in places where, frankly, their schools suck. Your zip code shouldn’t determine the quality of your education.”
His passion, his dedication to his students deepens my understanding of the man he is now. Reading that manuscript filled in some of the gaps the years created.
“I don’t remember you wanting to be a teacher when we were growing up,” I say.
“I don’t think I did. I wanted to do well in school, of course, but I entered college unsure what I should do with my life.”