Today was her birthday, but her closest friends were busy, so Nicole took herself out to dinner. The Purple Potted Plant was her favorite restaurant for special occasions, and this year qualified as one: her fortieth.
She tamped down the urge to feel self-pity. She had no one to join her to mark the date; her ex certainly wouldn’t, and apparently, no friends felt strongly enough to share a birthday meal with her.
The waitstaff showed her to a table that overlooked a bustling street in Doylestown. Her birthday coincided with the start of the holiday season, and already giant, fake snowflakes hung from the lamp posts. They were another reminder that she needed to make plans soon to avoid being alone at Christmas. Daniel, her ex, would be with his new wife and their three-year-old.
Pulling herself back to the present, Nicole studied the menu. The chicken looked tempting, but the gnawing in her midsection was for something more than food. This milestone year was just the latest in a life she’d spent wondering who she really was. Adopted at as an infant, she had no memory of her biological mother. She craved details—any details. But the woman she called mother, the woman who’d raised her, had no interest in that.
“Isn’t it enough that you’re here, loved by us?” Brenda had said when Nicole begged her to tell what she knew. “No need to dig up a painful past.”
Nicole placed her order and asked for a glass of pinot grigio. Staring out the window, she watched the passersby, envious that they all had places to go. The swish of a moving chair drew her attention back to the table.
“Mind if I join you?” An older woman in a tailored, cloth coat stood there. “You seem like you could use a friendly smile.”
Taken aback at the woman’s forwardness, Nicole started to say no, but then shrugged. What the heck; it was better than moping alone in the crowded restaurant. “Of course. Please sit.”
“I’m Judy,” the woman said. “Pleased to meet you.” She removed her coat and sat down with a sigh. “It’s been years since I’ve eaten here.”
“I’m Nicole. What brings you here tonight?” Conversation was just what she needed, Nicole thought. Judy, in her dark pants and russet sweater, was a welcome distraction.
Judy’s smile grew warmer. “It’s my daughter’s birthday.”
“Oh?” Nicole smiled back. “How fun. It’s my birthday, too. But,” she paused, taking in the room full of chatting people, knives and forks clinking against plates, “shouldn’t you be with her to celebrate?”
“Oh, she’s near enough,” the woman said. “She has her own life now.”
Without really meaning to, Nicole mused aloud about her life—the pluses (she had a successful career as an editor) and the minuses (her failed marriage to Daniel). She shared her joy at finding the perfect hill on her morning walks to watch the sunrise and her disappointment over the loss of yet another friend who’d moved away. Then she put down her fork, feeling her face flush.
“How rude of me,” she said. “I’ve been talking about myself this whole time. I’m so sorry.” She usually deflected conversation back to the other person rather than talk about herself. What had gotten into her this evening? She picked at the food on her plate, no longer hungry.
Judy had barely touched her own food, seeming content to just listen to Nicole, offering a murmured “I see,” “That must have been difficult,” or “Interesting” from time to time.
Changing the subject, Judy said, “Since it’s your birthday, tell me, if you could alter anything in your life, what would you wish for?”
Nicole didn’t hesitate. “To know who my mother is. I mean, Brenda adopted me as a baby, and she and Paul, my adopted dad, love me, and I love them, but not knowing who gave birth to me brings me sadness even all these years later.” After that passionate response, Nicole caught herself. Was she really that starved for attention that she had to bring all of their talk back to her? “What about you?” she said. “What would you wish for?”
The older woman’s smile was bittersweet. She stood, pulling on her coat. “I’ve got to go now.” She slipped her bag over her shoulder. “To answer your question, though, if I could wish for anything, it would be to watch my daughter grow up. Fate didn’t grant me that. Instead, I missed all the milestones, I missed watching her turn from child to adult, but I’m so happy to see she’s turned out well.” She winked. “Even if she needs to trust in herself a bit more.”
Judy turned away just as the server arrived to clear the table. When Nicole looked up a moment later, the older woman was gone. Had the wink meant what she thought it did? She watched for Judy out the restaurant window, hoping to see her pass by on the sidewalk under the streetlights, but she didn’t appear.
“Happy birthday,” the server said, placing a slice of chocolate torte in front of Nicole. Edible confetti lay sprinkled over it, topped by a miniature flag printed with Best birthday wishes!
“I didn’t order this,” Nicole protested, although she was touched by the effort. “It’s fine, though. I’ll pay for it. You can bring the check for both of us—” She stopped. The place setting opposite her showed no sign that anyone had been there, the flat wear still wrapped in a cloth napkin.
The server chuckled. “Both of you, huh? But here’s another odd thing. I don’t remember bringing your check, but our system shows that your meal has already been paid for. You’re all set.”
Manager, Educator, and former High School Social Studies teacher, Veronica credits her love of history to the potpourri of cultures that make up her own life and to her upbringing in diverse Brooklyn, New York.
Her Work in Progress is a Young Adult Novel based on a search into her ethnic roots that explores identity, belonging, and self-discovery. Her genres of choice are historical fiction, where she always makes new discoveries, literary works because she loves beautiful writing, and children’s picture books because there are so many wonderful worlds yet to be imagined and visited.
She currently resides in Macungie, PA., but she’s still a Brooklyn girl at heart. How sweet it is!
Veronica’s story “Fiona Malone’s Fesh,” was featured in the Fall 2021 Issue of Bethlehem Writers Roundtable and is archived above.
In addition to her fiction, she has a monthly column, Write from the Heart, here on A Slice of Orange where she writes about writing, life and does book reviews.
Connect with her on Facebook @VeronicaJorgeauthor
November draws me
into bleak arms
I wonder where the leaves
have gone—
though I know, yet I walk in
nameless hope
of miracle
in this ghastly fog
so dense, so deep that
I am lost
stepping on crumbled
autumn stalks
I remember your face
with wisdom drawn,
how it still shone
after its light was robbed
but now there’s just me,
the part that’s left of your artery
the purple sunset a reminder
of approaching dark,
who I am and how
mortal we are.
© Neetu Malik
Attention Writers!
The Lyrical Language Lab is having a Rhyming Poetry Contest for kidlit. The theme is “Winter Wanderings: Nature Poem.” Your submission must not exceed sixteen lines (excluding the title) and be suitable for elementary, middle grade, or young adult readers. Submissions are being accepted now through December 8th. For more information, please go to:
Happy Writing!
—Kidd
When you think of Chanukah, the Jewish eight-day festival of lights, which begins on December 25th this year, you probably don’t associate it with starting a new life on the American prairie. It may be that you have no connection with either experience. But we can all relate to something they both share in common: a desire to establish your place in the world, and to preserve your identity. Even when faced with apparently insurmountable obstacles.
Susan Lynn Meyer’s, A Sky Full of Song, unfolds in the early 1900s. The protagonist, eleven-year-old Shoshona and her family, have fled Jewish persecution in the Russian empire and hope to find safety in North Dakota, and start a new life.
The wide open country offers Shoshona many opportunities for discoveries, and a world of exploration. It also presents challenges, like learning English, and understanding different customs. Her traditions are so unlike those of all of her classmates. Especially the upcoming Christmas holiday, which her family doesn’t celebrate, but where she is expected to sing a song. Should she refuse?
Eager to make friends and fit in, she struggles with her Jewish identity. How much can she share about her ways without them rejecting her? Some already bully her. Or is it best to hide who she really is?
When a blizzard hits and darkness engulfs the prairie, the menorah in Shoshona’s window illuminates the night, providing a guiding light for someone in need, and an opportunity for Shoshona to share the story of Chanukah and the meaning of the light.
At the Christmas concert that takes place after the storm has passed, Shoshona makes a decision to sing, not a Christmas carol, but a song from her country in her own language about new beginnings.
Susan Lynn Meyer’s story is beautifully written and filled with poetic lines, evocative imagery, and memorable phrases that will sing in your heart. A story of belonging, acceptance, identity, and of remaining true to yourself, A Sky Full of Song reminds us of the importance of singing your own special song, and of shining your own unique light.
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on December 22nd!
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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