Her husband was the mashgiach; she felt like the rebellious student

"Rebbetzin, these cookies are sick!”

Yonina is about to burst out laughing at Yitz’s exuberance over her perfectly ordinary chocolate-chip sticks, but she lassoes it in when she catches sight of Yisrael Moshe’s face.

Oops.

Her husband gives her A Look. There she goes again, reprimanded by the mashgiach. They may call her Rebbetzin, but it seems that with her husband, she’ll always feel like a contrite student.

She tries to smile at Yitz, but realizes her face is now contorted into a grimace. Sorta like Yisrael Moshe’s, actually.

She watches her husband as he deliberately coughs, then raises an eyebrow in Yitz’s direction. He’s stroking his beard, ever the wise mashgiach.

Yonina looks around the table, and although all the guys are taking it in, she feels like gagging at the performance.

Yitz begrudgingly diverts his rapt attention from the cookie and meets his rebbi’s eyes.

“What?” Thank G-d it’s Yitz; he knows exactly how to respond to her husband’s intensity. “C’mon, Rebbi, they are sick!”

“I didn’t notice cookies could run a fever.” Yisrael Moshe’s dry humor is met with just a crack of a smile. Mussar noted.

Seriously? Yonina abruptly stands up, her chair scratching the wooden floorboards. Everyone looks up.

She smiles sheepishly, excuses herself: “I’ll be right back with some more of those sick cookies.”

The boys snicker, and Yisrael Moshe just shakes his head. The mashgiach is disappointed in her, again. She gnaws the inside of her lip, feels her heart tighten. Then she mirrors her husband’s motion, shaking her own head. She can’t help but feel disappointed in herself, as well.

“Why, Yonina?” They’re at their favorite frozen yogurt place for their weekly date. It’s off the beaten path, one of the few places where Yisrael Moshe will actually sit down to eat.

Yonina had expected Yisrael Moshe’s rant. She’d almost feigned a stomachache, but knew she’d be called out.

Yonina pushes her spoon against the edge of the Styrofoam, begins chipping at it. She’s back in high school, being reprimanded for the length of her skirt.

Argh, this conversation. Don’t want to, don’t want to, don’t want to.

And yet, she knows this isn’t the same, she knows her husband is coming from a different place entirely. But still... The-16-year-old inside of her wins.