Read Peep Show for Free Online

sentence. Read it out loud.”
    â€œMom?”
    â€œâ€˜Students over the age,’ go, read it!”
    I sit up and look at it. “‘Students over the age of five years and six months . . . who are admitted to Yeshiva Bais Esther must attend
Yizkor
, a class to prepare themselves for their new lives as Hasids.’”
    â€œKeep going. ‘The main text for this class . . .’”
    â€œâ€˜. . . is called the Shulchan Aruch, the book that lists the laws of
halakhah
.’”
    â€œKeep going.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œPlease, one more line.”
    â€œI’m not, Ma. I’m sleeping.”
    â€œâ€˜These are our rules. We follow these rules . . .’”
    â€œI know, Mom.”
    â€œI will not let you take everything I’ve worked so hard to build and crush it in front of my face.”
    â€œI heard you.”
    â€œYou lied to me.”
    â€œI tried. I tried to get home sooner.”
    â€œYou
failed
! And there’s no way I’m taking you to see him today.” She stands and I hear her march down the stairs.
    â€œWas that Mom?” Debra says through the wall.
    â€œGet dressed,” I tell her.
    â€œWhat?”
    Downstairs I find her kneeling into the refrigerator. “Mom?”
    â€œNot negotiable. Everything’s going to change, starting today.”
    I have to laugh. “Today?”
    She shuts the fridge and moves to the table. “Your sister wanted to know where you were all night.”
    â€œSo tell her.”
    â€œTell her? Tell her you were with your disgusting, smutty father at his
place
of business?”
    â€œDon’t blame him.”
    â€œI blame
you
,” she says. “I’m just putting a stop to it.”
    â€œI forgot it was a Friday night. It got busy there and Dad had things to do.”
    â€œAnd I forgot it was Saturday,” she says and smiles at me. “You forgot it was Friday and you came home eight hours late without calling me. And I forgot it was Saturday. I don’t drive on the Shabbos, David. You and your sister won’t be going to New York today.”
    Debra walks in, dressed, and sits at the table. “Why is everyone yelling in whispers?”
    â€œBecause Mom’s made a deal with Dad,” I say. “We’re going into New York to see his new place today.”
    â€œToday?”
    â€œYup. He’s excited about it. Mom made a deal last night on the phone.”
    My mother is glaring at me. “There is no deal.”
    â€œI was very late and I didn’t call. I apologize.”
    â€œYou weren’t home when we left at five o’clock. You blew the deal. I don’t drive on Shabbos.”
    I stare at the back of her football helmet–shaped wig as she walks away. An actress, that’s what she is. Playing a role, wearing the costume, the pensive and protective farm girl who thinks the truth about Martin Arbus will destroy her daughter and all that she may become as an adult. The vile, revolting truth that she kept from me for thirteen years. He owns a theater. Big fucking deal. And Debra probably knows, she must know that he isn’t reallyin “real estate.” Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s as fragile as my mother wants her to be, needs her to be, begs her to be. Your father owns a strip joint, Deb. Let’s go see it. Let’s go visit it together.
    â€œSo we can’t go?” Debra says.
    â€œHow about the train?” I say. “We’ll take the train.”
    â€œNo, David,” she says. “No trains either.”
    â€œThen let
me
drive.”
    â€œJust stop.”
    â€œ
Mom!
Don’t be a . . .”
    Both of their heads pop up and glare at me.
    â€œDon’t be a
what
, David?”
    â€œPeople compromise. Hasids compromise on some of the laws, they must. It’s not like you’re a
real Lichtiger
, right? You’re an American . . . born in Nutley. Not White