Tzipora was out and about. She was having a fairly normal day. She was still hanging out with Eran. The two were getting along. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure about him. But she was enjoying the ride. She was fairly faithful. However, she had a tryst or two with some women she hooked up within a vampire bar.
Alana was still thinking about her fight with the woman in Prospect Park. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She kept it to herself. However, she figured she’d have to tell Marc. They may have to join forces.
Anat, the boot-clad woman was trolling the city. Born in Flatbush, she had a rough upbringing. Her parents are of mixed Middle Eastern descent — Syrian, Lebanese and Iraqi. They lived in Safed for a short period before coming to Brooklyn. Her parents really weren’t ready to have children when they had her. They weren’t poor or uneducated. They were just having a really hard time adjusting to life in the U.S. They didn’t pay much attention to her pretty much from the time she was born. Both parents drank too much Arak and at times were physically abusive to each other and their daughter.
She had trouble making friends. Her grandmother loved her and did her best to take care of her. Anat loved this woman more than anything. Grandma gave her the only love she ever knew. Her first pair of boots was given to her as a toddler from grandma. She never took them off. This caring woman made her bathe. But her parents sometimes wouldn’t let their daughter see grandma and never cared if she showered. So she didn’t.
Sadly this caring woman died in a bad fall, while Alana was an undergrad enrolled as a finance major at Stanford. She did well in school. She didn’t have any friends. She stuck to herself and always wore a ratty pair of boots. Anat still had hygiene issues. No one would sit near her in the library. She flew home to Brooklyn for the funeral. She sat Shiva and went back to San Jose.
Waiting in her dorm room was a dried fruit platter sent by grandma. Anat freaked out. The platter arrived via FedEx the day Anat flew home. Grandma shipped it a day before she passed. It was her grandmother who got her hooked on dried fruit. Grandma’s apartment always had this delicacy. She opened the package, cried and dug in. She read the card, “Anat, Enjoy. Study hard. You will do well. — Love, Grandma.” She clutched the card to her chest and cried in her bed. She remembered when she first fell in love with dried fruit. At first, it scared her. It was so dry. But grandma told her it’d be okay. She did have some allergic reactions. And for a short time was afraid of it. It turned out she was allergic to grandma’s awful smelling perfume. Not the snacks. For a long time that’s all, she would eat. She sometimes rubbed the fruit all over herself.
Anat walked down Madison Avenue. She started kicking trash cans.
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