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They say March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Either way, it was the first week of March, and Sam Manson felt like a trapped lion, ready to roar.
Her frustration wasn’t about the weather—it was her parents, Jeremy and Pam Manson, being their overly perky, country-clubber selves. They’d completely forgotten what day it was.
Today was Purim, the Jewish holiday celebrating Queen Esther saving the Jews in ancient Persia.
But her oblivious parents hadn’t remembered one of the most important days of their own culture. Instead, they’d gone off to some snobby feast, leaving Sam alone. And this wasn’t a day meant to be spent alone.
“This is just great! Like the third time they’ve ditched me on a day that’s supposed to be about family. Granted, I haven’t been the perfect daughter,” she muttered angrily.
Sighing, she applied fresh lipstick and wiped a tear. “Still, I’ve been working on my communication skills! Jamie’s pep talks have helped…” she whispered to her reflection.
“I wish I could have a normal Purim and for once feel like I belong.”
Suddenly, her palm started to glow. “What?” The initials J.R. blazed on her skin.
The next thing she knew, her room had vanished. She found herself standing on a street corner, a three-story periwinkle home with creamy trim not far off.
The front door opened, and a short teenage boy with a mop of unkempt brown hair came running out. “Sam! I didn’t expect you to visit today!”
“Jamie? Jamie!” she cried, happy. “I should’ve known the forces beyond our control would lead me to you today. I mean, who else would want to celebrate Purim with me?”
Jamie laughed. “Well, if that’s why you’re here, the more the merrier! C’mon, Mom and Ruben are finishing up the hamantaschen!”
“You sure your parents won’t freak out if I come in?” Sam asked, biting her lip. For once, she didn’t look bossy—just braced for disappointment.
Jamie smiled, gray eyes meeting hers. “Sam, you’re always welcome here. My parents’ philosophy is more the merrier—they wouldn’t want anyone left out today. Come on! My brother’s almost done with the second batch of hamantaschen.”
She took his hand, and they dashed inside. Once inside, she felt like she was coming home. For a moment, she thought about her own house and realized why Jamie’s felt like a home: his family accepted him exactly as he was.
“You’re lucky, Jamie. I envy you,” she blurted out.
“What? Why?” he asked, confused.
“Because your parents accept you exactly as you are… being gay, being yourself. My parents, on the other hand, still don’t accept me for being… me—my goth side, my choices, my life. Even with all your tips about communicating better with them.”
Sam stepped further into the living room when Jezebel emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of golden, jam-filled hamantaschen dusted with powdered sugar. Ruben followed, balancing a small plate of cookie-groggers they’d made themselves.
“Hi, Sam!” Ruben said cheerfully, holding out the treats.
Jezebel set the tray down and smiled warmly. “Sam, we’re so glad you could join us for Purim. The twins are ready with the groggers—you know, to make noise whenever Haman’s name comes up in the Megillah reading.”
Sam blinked, overwhelmed, then managed a small smile. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, feeling a rare warmth.
Jamie tugged her hand. “Come on, let’s grab some snacks before we start! Megan and Ashley are waiting.”
The twins sat cross-legged on the floor, groggers in hand, eyes wide with excitement. The smell of jam, sugar, and a hint of orange zest from the kitchen filled the air.
Jamie nudged her. “Okay, so you wanted to be Queen Esther, right? I’ll help with Mordechai—or Haman if we need drama.”
Sam adjusted a scarf into a makeshift crown. “All hail Queen Esther!” she announced, smiling.
Jamie threw his arms wide. “I am Mordechai, wise and brave! Or… maybe Haman, the villain we all love to hate!” His ridiculous villain face sent the twins into giggles.
“Make Haman’s name loud!” Megan shouted, shaking her grogger, and Ashley echoed, squealing.
Sam rolled her eyes but grinned. “Very well. I, Queen Esther, shall save my people… even if my parents don’t understand me!”
Jamie flailed dramatically. “Curse you, Haman!”
The twins shook their groggers, laughing and cheering. Sam improvised little gestures, pointing to imaginary courtiers and secret palace passages. Every laugh made her feel lighter, freer.
She glanced at Jamie, whose gray eyes met hers with a knowing smile. “See? More the merrier, Sam. You belong here, too.”
Sam’s chest warmed. She wasn’t just a guest—she was part of something real.
Ruben wandered over with a plate of extra cookies, topped with sprinkles. “You wanna try one, Sam?”
“Thanks,” she said softly, taking a cookie. Just being welcomed felt grounding.
Jezebel leaned against the counter, smiling. “I hope you’re enjoying Purim, Sam. It’s about family, tradition, and a little fun. You’re always welcome here.”
Sam’s chest tightened. “I… I really am,” she whispered, letting herself savor the moment.
Jamie nudged her playfully. “Come on, we still have a few more groggers to shake and the Megillah reading. You can’t escape now!”
Sam laughed, full and genuine. “Alright… I guess I’m stuck with you guys for the day,” she said, grinning. For the first time in a long while, home wasn’t just a place—it was where people saw you, accepted you, and made you feel like you belonged.