Unwind

The adults at the party are relatives, friends of the family, his parents' business associates—but at least eighty of the guests are Lev's friends. There are kids from school, from church, and from the various sports teams he's been on.

Some of his friends had felt funny about coming of course.

"I don't know, Lev," they had said, "it's kind of weird. I mean, what kind of present am I supposed to bring?"

"You don't have to bring anything," Lev had told them. "There are no presents at a tithing party. Just come and have a good time. I know I will."

And he does.

He asks every girl he invited to dance, and not a single one turns him down.

He even has people lift him up in a chair and dance with him around the room, because he had seen them do that at a Jewish friend's bar mitzvah. True, this is a very different kind of party, but it's also a celebration of him turning thirteen, so he deserves to get lifted up in a chair too, doesn't he?

Lev finds that the dinner is served far too soon. He looks at his watch to see that two hours have already gone by. How-could it have gone so quickly?

Soon people grab the microphone and, holding up glasses of champagne, they start making toasts to Lev. His parents give a toast. His grandmother gives a toast. An uncle he doesn't even know gives a toast.

"To Lev: It's been a joy to watch you grow into the fine young man you are, and I know in my heart that you'll do great things for everyone you touch in this world."

It feels wonderful and weird for so many people to say so many kind things about him. It's all too much, but in some strange way it's not enough. There's got to be more. More food. More dancing. More time. They're already bringing out the birthday cake. Everyone knows the party ends once the cake is served. Why are they bringing out the cake? Can it really be three hours into the party?

Then comes one more toast. It's the toast that almost ruins the evening.

Of Lev's many brothers and sisters, Marcus has been the quietest all evening. It's unlike him. Lev should have known something was going to happen.

Lev, at thirteen, is the youngest often. Marcus, at twenty-eight, is the oldest. He flew halfway across the country to be here at Lev's tithing party, and yet he's barely danced, or spoken, or been a part of any of the festivities. He's also drunk.

Lev has never seen Marcus drunk.

It happens after the formal toasts are given, when Lev's cake is being cut and distributed. It doesn't start as a toast; it starts as just a moment between brothers.

"Congrats, little bro," Marcus says, giving him a powerful hug. Lev can smell the alcohol on Marcus's breath. "Today you're a man. Sort of."

Their father, sitting at the head table just a few feet away, lets out a nervous chuckle.

"Thanks . . . sort of," Lev responds. He glances at his parents. His father waits to see what's coming next. His mother's pinched expression makes Lev feel tense.

Marcus stares at Lev with a smile that doesn't hold any of the emotion a smile usually comes with. "What do you think of all this?" he asks Lev.

"It's great."

"Of course it is! All these people here for you? It's an amazing night. Amazing!"

"Yeah," says Lev. He's not sure where this is going, but he knows it's going somewhere. "I'm having the time of my life."

"Damn right! The time of your life! Gotta wrap up all those life events, all those parties, into one—birthdays, wedding, funeral." Then he turns to their father. "Very efficient, right, Dad?"

"That's enough,'' their father says quietly, but it only makes Marcus get louder.

"What? I'm not allowed to talk about it? Oh, that's right— this is a celebration. I almost forgot."

Lev wants Marcus to stop, but at the same time he doesn't.

Mom stands up and says in a voice more forceful than Dad's, "Marcus, sit down. You're embarrassing yourself."

By now everyone in the banquet hall has stopped whatever they were doing and are tuned in to the unfolding family-drama. Marcus, seeing he has the room's attention, picks up someone's half-empty glass of champagne, and holds it high.

"Here's to my brother, Lev," Marcus says. "And to our parents! Who have always done the right thing. The appropriate thing. Who have always given generously to charity. Who have always given 10 percent of everything to our church. Hey, Mom— we're lucky you had ten kids instead of five, otherwise we'd end up having to cut Lev off at the waist!"

Gasps from all those assembled. People shaking their heads. Such disappointing behavior from an eldest son.

Now Dad comes up and grabs Marcus's arm tightly. "You're done!" Dad says. "Sit down."