Chaya’s blissful dreams are getting more and more annoying as the wedding day draws near

“I’ll get the children out every morning, so he won’t have to rush home from davening…

I’ll sit and work for seven hours straight, and only stop once to put up lunch. When the kids come home, I’ll play with them, and meanwhile I’ll start cooking for the next day’s lunch and fold the laundry. And in the evening, after they’re in bed, I’ll work for another two hours, and that way there’ll be enough money to live on after covering the mortgage…. And then I’ll turn off the computer and be ready to greet Moishy when he comes home from night seder….”

Chaya’s blissful dreams are getting more and more annoying as the wedding day draws near.

At first Nechami found them amusing, but now they’re bringing out some dark, clawed little creature that’s been locked in the cellar of her consciousness. On this fresh winter morning, when Nechami pictures her sister at the bridal salon the previous night, running her hands over the shining white fabrics and spinning fairy tales, something rankles within her. That neglected little goblin inside hasn’t had its claws trimmed in a long time, and now it’s scratching her, leaving raw, red marks.

Inwardly, Nechami is having a tantrum.

She doesn’t want to go down to the office and work.

She doesn’t want to tidy up the house.

She doesn’t want to put up lunch.

Or to wash the dishes. For sure not the whole array of utensils Shua’s in the habit of using to make sandwiches for the children in the morning. Or yesterday’s pots, either.

“I want to stand on Rechov Ben Yehuda and play a violin,” she informs him, “and all the coins people drop in my violin case will go to Tovi’s surgery fund.”

No response from the living room. The silence is disturbed only by the faint sound of Rabbeinu Tam tefillin straps being carefully coiled around themselves.

“Every morning after I send the children off, I’ll go to Ben Yehuda. There are lots of corners there to stand on. Kikar Safra could also work. I’ll play ‘Kah Echsof’ and ‘Arba Bavos.’ Winter is almost over now, and it’s really nice outside.”

The silence grows louder.

“Okay, fine, if you don’t want me to play here in Yerushalayim, where people know us, maybe I’ll go to another city.”

Not a sound.