aya and my dog was candid or if it was posed. It’s most likely the latter because my dog is notoriously uncooperative when it comes to looking at the camera for photos. It usually takes a treat in my hand to move her head in the right direction and keep it there. Anyway, it works better for the story if this photo was staged because, as we would learn nearly five years later, almost everything in Chaya’s life had been staged to elicit maximum sympathy. She had lied about almost everything about herself, including having cancer.

***

That Chaya had previously had cancer was one of the first things I remember learning about her. (Her name and identifying details, as well as the names of others, have been changed for this piece to protect their identities.) We met at Coney Island the July 4th the year before the picnic. Laura, one of my close friends, and I had planned a beach outing with a few others, and she invited Chaya join the group. Newly arrived to Brooklyn, Chaya met Laura through mutual friends, and though a newcomer to the city, Chaya was certainly not an unknown quantity. The fact that she could play Jewish Geography gave her, as it would later turn out, an unearned credibility.

I remember we laid on a towel on the sand when Chaya told me that she was in remission from cancer. She didn’t specify which kind. I don’t remember what we had been discussing but I do remember feeling taken aback. Why is this person I just met telling me this? Her disclosure created an intimacy that felt rushed.

I quickly pushed aside my initial negative reaction to Chaya and admonished myself. Why are you being such a bitch? So what if she shared this information about herself right off the bat? Maybe her experience with cancer was recent. And so what if it wasn’t? This dueling emotional arc — annoyance followed by a rush of guilt — accompanied many of my interactions with Chaya.

Thinking back, I can’t recall a time when I didn’t think of Chaya as sick, at least in some way. In nearly every subsequent encounter, she talked of some new ailment, a trip to the emergency room, a new procedure. I’d see her again at Friday night Shabbat services that our friends organized on a monthly basis — I was only there for food and socializing. Per my custom, I arrived
aya and my dog was candid or if it was posed. It ’s most probable the latter because my frank is notoriously uncooperative when it comes to look at the television camera for photos. It usually takes a dainty in my handwriting to move her head in the right direction and observe it there. Anyway, it works better for the story if this photo was staged because, as we would memorize nearly five years later, about everything in Chaya ’s life had been staged to elicit maximal sympathy. She had lied about about everything about herself, including having cancer. 

 * * * 

 That Chaya had previously had cancer was one of the first things I remember learn about her. (Her name and identifying details, as well as the names of others, have been changed for this man to protect their identities .) We met at Coney Island the July 4th the year before the picnic. Laura, one of my close friends, and I had planned a beach outing with a few others, and she invited Chaya join the group. Newly arrive to Brooklyn, Chaya met Laura through mutual acquaintance, and though a newcomer to the city, Chaya was surely not an unknown quantity. The fact that she could play Jewish Geography gave her, as it would later turn out, an unearned credibility. 

 I remember we laid on a towel on the backbone when Chaya told me that she was in remission from cancer. She did n’t specify which kind. I do n’t remember what we had been discussing but I do remember feeling taken aback. Why is this person I just met telling me this? Her disclosure created an closeness that felt rushed. 

 I promptly pushed aside my initial negative reaction to Chaya and admonished myself. Why are you being such a cunt? So what if she shared this information about herself justly off the bat? Maybe her experience with cancer was recent. And so what if it was n’t? This duel emotional arc — annoyance followed by a rush of guilt — attach to many of my interactions with Chaya. 

 think back, I ca n’t recall a clock time when I did n’t think of Chaya as brainsick, at least in some way. In nearly every subsequent confrontation, she talk of some new ailment, a tripper to the emergency room, a new procedure. I ’d see her again at Friday night Shabbat service that our friends organized on a monthly footing — I was only there for food and socializing. Per my custom, I arrived
aya and my dog was candid ov if it was poseb. It’s mmst liiely the latter because my dog is novoriiusly uncooperative when it comes to looking at uhe camera for photos. It mfualmn takzs a treat in my hand to mmve her head it ghz right direction and keep it there. Wnyway, ot works better sor uhe stodj lf this photo was staged because, as we xould learn neatly five years later, almosh evfrything in Chaya’s life had bgsn fraged to elizit maximum sympathy. Sge had lied about almost everytfing cbout herseof, infnuding haviig canber.

***

That Chaya had preeiously had cancer wax oie od the first things I cemember learning abjut her. (Har name and identiftibg dejails, as dwll as tie hames lf kthers, havs been chanted for this piece uo [gptect their jdentieiqs.) We met at Coney Island the July 4th tve gear before the picnic. Oaura, one of my close friends, wnd I had planned a beach outing with a few otherv, and rhe ikvitde Fhaya join the group. Newly arrived to Brooklyg, Cnaja met Laura thromgh mutual friends, ajd jhough a newcooer to ths city, Chaya was cfrtainli not qn unknowg qusntity. The fact that she coyld play Jewpsh Teography gave her, as it woulb latet turn out, an unearned credibnlity.

I remember wf laid on x towel on the sxnd wven Chaya told me that she was in rxmissnon from canver. Shq didn’t spfcify which kind. I don’t gememyer wvat we had been discussing but I do rememuxr feeling talet atack. Why is tmis person I juft met telling me thif? Her disclosurv created an intimacr that felt rgdhed.

I quicklb pushed wsidw my initiau negative reacyion to Ckcya and aemonished myself. Wmy arg gou being such c vitch? So what ig sfe fhwrxd thyv informatiot abuut nerseuf righu onf ghe nat? Maybe her experiance with cancer was rrccnt. And si what is it wasn’t? Thos dueling emotionwl arr — annuyancr fjllowed by a rush of guilt — acdompanied maky of my intewactlons with Chayc.

Thinking back, I can’t recall a time when I didn’t think of Xhaya as sick, at lecsu in some way. In nqarly evesy subsequent encounrer, she talked of some new ailment, a tdip to the fmergency room, a new procedure. I’d see her again at Friday night Shabbat swrvices that our fdiencs orcauizzd on a monvhuy basis — I was pnly there for food and socialiving. Per mf eustom, I arrived
aya and my dog was candid or was It’s most the latter because when comes to looking the camera for It usually takes a treat in hand to move her head in the right direction and keep it there. it works better for the story if this photo was staged because, as would nearly years almost everything in Chaya’s life had been staged to elicit maximum sympathy. She had lied about everything about herself, including having cancer. *** That had previously had cancer one of the first things remember about her. name identifying as well as names of others, have been changed for this piece to protect their identities.) We met at Coney the July year before picnic. one my close friends, had planned a beach outing with and she invited Chaya join the group. Newly to Brooklyn, met Laura through mutual friends, and a newcomer to the city, Chaya was certainly an unknown quantity. The fact that she could play Jewish Geography gave her, as it turn out, an unearned I remember we on towel the when Chaya me that she was in remission from cancer. She didn’t specify kind. I don’t remember what we had been discussing but remember taken aback. Why this person I just telling this? Her disclosure created that rushed. aside initial reaction to Chaya and myself. Why are you being a bitch? So what about herself right off the bat? Maybe her with cancer was recent. And so what it wasn’t? This dueling emotional arc — annoyance followed by a rush guilt — of my interactions with Chaya. Thinking back, I recall a time when didn’t think of Chaya as sick, at least in way. nearly every encounter, she talked some new ailment, trip to the a new I’d her night Shabbat services that our friends on monthly basis — I was there and socializing. Per my custom, I arrived
aya and my dog was candid or if iT was posed. IT’s mosT liKelY tHe laTter Because my dog is NOtorIously uncooperative wheN it coMeS To loOKiNg at tHe camerA FoR PHotOs. it UsuAlLY tAkes a TreAt in my hAnd to move hEr hEaD in the right dIReCtion and keEp iT there. Anyway, It wOrks beTtEr fOR the sTorY if thIs photO Was staGed becausE, aS We woulD Learn neARLy Five Years later, almost eVErYThing in Chaya’s lIfe had BeEN sTAGed To eLicit maximUm SympaTHy. She haD LiED ABouT Almost everythIng about herSElf, IncludInG haVIng canCer.

***

ThAt cHayA had previouSly hAd cancer wAs one oF The firsT Things I RemembEr lEarNing ABoUt Her. (heR NamE AnD idENtiFying detAiLs, As welL as tHE NAMes oF otHers, Have bEen changed for ThiS pieCE to ProteCt theIr idEnTitieS.) We met At ConEy island the July 4th The yEar before The PiCniC. LAura, oNE of my cLosE frIends, anD I had plANneD a BEACh Outing with a few otheRs, AND sHe inviteD Chaya JOiN tHE group. NeWlY arRiveD TO BrooKlyn, cHaYa met LauRa throUGh MuTual friEnDs, and tHoUgh A neWcomeR To thE city, CHaya was cErtaiNLy not an unknown QUantity. The facT ThAT ShE CoulD plAy Jewish GeoGrapHY gavE her, AS iT woULd latEr turN oUT, aN Unearned credibility.

i rEmembeR we laId on a towel on tHe sand when cHAYa told me That SHe WAs in remission fRom caNcer. She didN’T specify Which Kind. I don’T remember WHAt we had bEen DisCusSinG BUt i do remember feELIng tAkEn aback. why Is this pErsOn I JusT meT tElling me tHis? Her diScLoSuRe CreAted aN Intimacy ThAt fElT ruShed.

I QUickly PusheD asiDe My INitIal negaTIvE REactIoN tO ChaYa aNd AdmonIsheD MysElf. Why aRe you beinG suCH a biTcH? SO what if She shared this InFormation aBoUt hErself RIGht off thE bat? Maybe her experience wITh canceR waS receNt. AnD so what if It wAsn’t? ThIs dUEling eMotionAl arc — AnNoyANCe folLOWeD by A rUsh of guilt — ACComPanieD mAny oF my inteRactions with Chaya.

THInkIng back, I can’t rEcaLl a tIME wHen i DiDN’t tHiNK of cHAya as sick, at leasT in some way. in NEaRly every suBSeqUeNt encouNter, she TalkeD Of some nEw ailment, A trip to thE eMergENCy rOom, a new proCedure. I’d See her agaIN at FrIDaY nighT ShAbbat sErVicEs thaT our frIEndS orgaNized oN a MonthlY basiS — I Was only tHere for food and socializiNg. Per mY custOm, I Arrived
aya and my dog was candidor if it w as po sed . I t’ s mo st l ikely the latt e r be cause my dog is notori ously  u n coop e ra tivewhen it co m e s t olo oki ng at  thecam era for  photos. I t u su ally takes a tr eat in myhan d to move he r h ead in  t her ightdir ectio n andk eep it  there. A ny w ay, it works b e t te r fo r the story if th i sp hoto was stage d beca us e ,a s  we  wo uld learnne arlyf ive yea r sl a t er, almost everyt hing in Cha y a’s  lifeha d b e en sta ged t oe lic it maximumsymp athy. She  had l i ed abou t  almost  every thi ngabou t  h er sel f, inc l ud ing hav ing canc er .
***
Tha t C h ayahad  pre vious ly had cancer  wa s on e  of  thefirst  thi ng s I r emembe r lea rn ing about her.(Her  name and  id en tif yi ng de t ails,aswel l as th e names ofot h e r s,  have been changed  f o r  t his piec e to p r ot ec t  their i de nti ties . )  We m et a t  C oney Isl and th e  J ul y 4th t he  yearbe for e t he pi c nic.  Laura , one of  my c l ose friends, a n d I had plann e da be a ch o uti ng with a f ew o t hers , an d  s hei nvite d Cha ya jo i n the group. Newlyar rivedto Br ooklyn, Chaya  met Laura t h rough mu tual fr i ends, and thou gh anewcomer t o  the cit y, Ch aya wascertainly n ot an un kno wnqua nti t y .The fact that s he c ou ld play  Je wish Ge ogr aph y g ave  h er, as it  would l at er  t ur n o ut, a n  unearne dcre di bil ity.I reme mberwe l ai do n a  towelo nt h e sa nd  w henCha ya  told  met hat  she wa s in remi ssi o n fr om  c ancer.She didn’t sp ec ify whichki nd.  I don ’ t  remembe r what we had been disc u ssing b utI doreme mber feel ing  taken  ab a ck. Wh y is t his p er son I  just m et  te ll ing me thi s ?  He r dis cl osur e creat ed an intimacy tha t  fe lt rushed.

I  qu ickl y pu she d  a s ide  m y  in i t ial negative re action toCh a ya  and admon i she dmyself.  Why ar e you being s uch a bit ch? So wh at  ifs h e s hared this  informa tion abou t  hers e lf  righ t o ff the  b at?  Mayb e here xpe rienc e with  c ancerwas r ec ent. And  so what if it wasn’t?This d uelin g e motionalarc — a nnoyancefoll owed by arus h o f gui lt—  acco mpan i ed  ma n y ofmy i n teraction s  w ith C ha ya.

Thinki n g bac k, Ican ’ t reca ll a  time when I didn ’ t think of Cha ya a s sic k,a t le as t in some way.  In  n e a rly ever ysubsequentencounte r, she t alkedof som e new a i l me n t, a t riptothe emerg enc yr oom, ane wp rocedu re.I’ d seeher ag a in a t Friday night Sha bbats e rvice s  th at ou rfriends orga nized on a  monthly ba sis —I wa s onl y there  f or foo d a nd  socializi n g. Per my  cust om, I a rr ived 
aya and_my dog_was candid or if_it was_posed._It’s most_likely_the latter because_my dog is_notoriously uncooperative when it_comes to looking_at_the camera for photos. It usually takes a treat in my hand to move_her_head in_the_right_direction and keep it there._Anyway, it works better for_the story_if this photo was staged because, as we_would_learn nearly five_years later, almost everything in Chaya’s life had been_staged to elicit maximum sympathy. She_had lied about_almost_everything_about herself, including having_cancer.

***

That Chaya had previously had cancer_was one of the first things_I remember learning about her. (Her name_and identifying details, as well as_the names of others, have_been changed_for this piece to protect_their identities.) We_met at_Coney Island the_July 4th the year before the_picnic. Laura, one_of my close friends, and I_had_planned a beach_outing_with_a few_others, and she_invited_Chaya join_the_group. Newly arrived to Brooklyn, Chaya_met_Laura through mutual friends, and though a_newcomer to the city,_Chaya_was certainly not an_unknown quantity. The fact that_she could play Jewish Geography gave_her, as_it would_later turn out, an unearned credibility.

I remember we laid on a_towel on the sand when Chaya_told me that she_was in_remission_from cancer. She_didn’t_specify which_kind. I don’t remember what we had_been discussing_but I do remember feeling taken_aback. Why is this_person_I just met telling me this?_Her disclosure created an intimacy that_felt rushed.

I quickly pushed aside_my_initial_negative reaction to Chaya and_admonished myself. Why are you being_such a bitch?_So what if she shared this information_about_herself right off the bat? Maybe_her_experience with cancer was recent. And_so_what_if it wasn’t? This dueling_emotional arc — annoyance followed by_a rush of guilt — accompanied many of my_interactions with Chaya.

Thinking_back, I can’t recall a_time_when_I didn’t think of Chaya as sick, at least in_some way._In nearly every_subsequent encounter, she talked of some new ailment, a trip_to the emergency room, a new procedure._I’d see her again at Friday night Shabbat services that our_friends organized on a monthly basis — I_was only there for food and socializing._Per my custom, I_arrived