“I’m looking for my son, I just wish I understood him a bit better, like, that I really knew what he’s about”

S

omething had changed between Shaindy Brucker and her son, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Heshy was meeting with this rosh yeshivah almost every day, planning something big. She heard him whispering with Gitty downstairs about it, and even though her Hebrew wasn’t great, she could piece together most of it.

He liked the rosh yeshivah, liked his sincerity, and saw real potential in the yeshivah. He didn’t want to come into a successful yeshivah, she heard him saying, but davka to this type of situation, where he could make things happen.

She wanted Chaim to ask him about money, but Chaim didn’t seem eager to have that conversation. There was something in his face, then, when she brought up the topic, that made her confront him head-on.

“How do you think they’re living?” she asked. “I mean, they don’t pay rent, or for most food, but they still have to dress the baby and stuff like that. Where’s the money coming from?”

One day, Brachi had mentioned that her Chaya’s morah was understaffed and kept losing assistants, and Shaindy suggested that Brachi recommend Gitty for the position.

“I mean, she doesn’t really speak English, but she doesn’t have to, the kids don’t talk yet either, right? And she’s fabulous with children, just has a natural touch,” added Shaindy, who actually felt that Gitty, although a conscientious mother, clearly did not have the natural touch. “Maybe bring it up?”