“Sure.” I said yes because I was supposed to, but I really wanted to run away and vomit

"Ohmigosh, it’s so hot, why are we outside in ninety-degree weather?”

Already seated in an Adirondack chair, Boruch rolled his eyes — he’s low key, no drama. Opposites attract, you know.

“No room, kids with big ears, you’ll survive.”

“Let’s make it quick.”

I sat. The early July Jersey air was suffocating. We were twenty minutes from the shore — where was the ocean breeze?

“Why are we asking Uncle Dudu for money? We can do this ourselves,” Boruch started.

This again?

“Yes, and pay crazy mortgage insurance,” I replied.

We were going in circles.

“Dudu has money, he’s nice, he’ll lend to us on nice terms,” I continued. “All’s good.”

“I just got a raise, and you’re making more money. We’ll save and pay up so we don’t have to pay for insurance. We don’t need Dudu,” Boruch said, rubbing his hand along the armrest.

“Don’t be an isolationist. Dudu loves family, he’d love to help. I bet he’d even throw in a few thousand for free. It’s like, giving people an opportunity to give is a chesed itself.”

Boruch rolled his eyes again.

“Also I feel really stupid offering a five percent down payment,” I continued. “And it makes me feel like there’s some insurance, like if things go south then we just owe Uncle Dudu money and not the bank.”

“I really don’t want to ask—” Boruch paused a moment. “How does he even have money, when the rest of the family is broke?”

I shrugged. “He made one good deal in his early thirties and snowballed it.”

“I should have such mazel,” Boruch mumbled.

“Please?”

More silence.

“Fine.”

I smiled.

“It’ll be good, I promise.”

Another eye roll.

“Can I go inside now?” I asked. Boruch nodded, and I slipped inside, welcoming the frigid air — I keep the AC set to sixty-eight. Boruch stayed outside for a few more minutes, scrolling through his phone. I don’t get his issues. I think it’s a guy thing, a matter of pride.