Waiting by Arrivals in the airport, Gila feels a strange sense of déjà vu. Had it really been almost a whole year since the girls left? And now, her oldest daughters were officially post-seminary. Post-seminary! College, jobs, shidduchim… she could be a mother-in-law soon, imagine that.

Of course, twins mean double of everything, including double the fun as she learns the ropes of this new stage in life. But if she’s doing it once, she can do it twice. That’s how it’s always been, from applying to schools to choosing a seminary — the twins wanted to go together, and she’d fully supported that. Gila believes in keeping things equal; the last thing she wants is one of her girls to feel neglected or resentful about being treated differently.

That’s why she pushed Aidy to get her job applications sent out already — after all, Shifra already had several interviews lined up.

“Aw, Ma, I’ll deal with the real world when I have to, let me just make the most of seminary while I can,” Aidy had laughed on the phone last week.

Shifra’s doing both, Gila wanted to say, but didn’t.

“How about I just adapt Shifra’s résumé and send it to a few places for you, sweetie? I really don’t want you to lose any chances,” she’d offered instead, magnanimously.

It was kind of how it had always been: Gila remembers rearranging Aidy’s haphazardly packed knapsack to match Shifra’s neat and organized one and buying doubles of the trendy accessories that Aidy was insistent on picking out so that Shifra would have the same. When it came to seminary shopping, Aidy had pretty much taken care of their wardrobes while Shifra went through the list of seforim and stationary supplies with a fine-tooth comb.

“Get for me too, okay?” Aidy’d told her.

“As long as I don’t have to go shoe shopping,” Shifra had replied with a grin.

“Deal.”

Gila’s reverie is interrupted when someone rushes by her with a large empty luggage cart. The automatic doors open, and a burst of new travelers stream through. She spots them immediately: two girls with identical smiles and auburn ponytails, pushing luggage carts loaded with cases and carry-ons.

Gila waves frantically, leaning across the barrier. Her girls are back!

The whole house feels different with the twins home. Aidy bounces all over, commenting on every little thing that’s changed over the year — “Hey, Ma! This vase is new? And what happened to the painting you had over the couch?” — while Shifra settles on the couch with a favorite book and a deep sigh of contentment.

Seminary has changed them both, Gila notices. Aidy’s more… focused, self-aware, maybe. And Shifra has a certain quiet confidence that she hadn’t had before.

Well, at least we’re getting something for our money, she thinks wryly. Double seminary tuition hadn’t been something to sneeze at.

“Ma, what do you think, is this top professional enough for a job interview?” Shifra straightens her outfit self-consciously, turning to one side to check herself in the hallway mirror.

“You look amazing, sweetie. Which interview do you have today?”

“It’s at a dentist’s office. They need a receptionist.” Shifra frowns. “I don’t think it’s really my type, but I’m afraid to rely on the jobs that I really want working out.”

“Not your type? Why not? You’ll do an amazing job.” She really would; Shifra’s so organized and capable.

“You know, all the people. Answering calls, taking questions, managing the waiting room… I’d rather a job that’s just on the computer.”

“Oh, Shifra, you’re great with people. Everyone loves you. Remember when you and Aidy ran that summer day camp together? The mothers were begging you to do it again.”

“Everyone loves Aidy, you mean,” Shifra mumbles.

Gila frowns a little. Shifra’s always doing that, putting herself down, when really, she’s just as likeable and personable as her twin sister. “You’ll do great. I’m sure they’ll want you anywhere you apply,” she says, instead of replying directly.

Aidy saunters down the stairs 40 minutes later, comfortably attired in her seminary sweatshirt and a long skirt.

“Hi, Ma. Ahh, it’s good to be home!” She takes a handful of cookies and tosses coffee and sugar into a mug. “Shifra’s gone? Good for her. Me, I need a little breathing space before starting on the job hunt, know what I mean?”

“Well, it is kind of the time to find a job now,” Gila says. She hopes Aidy will take the hint. At the rate this is going, Shifra will have five offers before Aidy even sends out her résumé.

And then… Gila shakes her head. No, that just wouldn’t — couldn’t — be okay.

“So the truth is, someone was telling me about this job that sounds really good. It’s in Bnos Bracha high school, so it’s right nearby, and apparently, they’re looking for an extracurricular advisor. Like, working with the GO and the production heads, running all the extracurricular events and activities, it’s totally up my alley!” Aidy grins, and Gila can’t help but smile back.

“Wow, that really sounds like a great opportunity,” Gila agrees. “You should probably look for something else too, though, because I imagine a lot of people will be applying for that position…”

“Oh, Ma, but this one is perfect for me, why shouldn’t they take me if I apply right away? And besides, there’s plenty of time to look if it doesn’t work out.”

Gila thinks fleetingly of Shifra, determinedly heading out for an interview even though the job doesn’t excite her at all.

“Come on, Aidy, you know it makes sense to have a backup or two,” she says.

“Who said anything about sense?” Aidy retorts, and then her cell phone erupts in song — yet another seminary friend, presumably — and she’s gone.

That night, as Gila sits at the table nursing a herbal tea, she thinks back to the twins’ high school days. All this to-do around jobs and applications and interviews makes her think of school production.

Only then, it was the opposite way round. Aidy was always the one running out to endless practices while Shifra slipped in and out, usually to help with props or scenery rather than to actually play a role onstage. All those times she’d encouraged Shifra to try out — “You’d do a fabulous job! You’re so talented!” — didn’t seem to have an impact. Instead, Gila would sit in the audience watching Aidy prance around onstage, and wish Shifra would have the same opportunities. It was just a matter of confidence; Shifra was just as talented.

One year, she’d had enough, and when the twins were at school, she’d reached out to Mrs. Gruber, the teacher in charge of production.

“Shifra’s got the most beautiful voice, but I think she never lets on how talented she really is,” she’d told Mrs. Gruber, confidentially. “If the school would help her out a little, push her to try out… I think it would mean the world to her.”

If she could star alongside Aidy, instead of being pushed into the background, you mean.

Mrs. Gruber understood perfectly. And that year, Shifra made it into the choir, with solos in almost every song. Aidy had the lead role in the play, that was true, but Shifra was acknowledged for her talents as well, and Gila had finally been able to watch the production with peace of mind.

Only one thing niggled: Why did Shifra seem so unhappy about her starring solos? Why didn’t she look more comfortable in the spotlight? And why did she insist, the next year, on going back to her old role on the props committee?

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!”

The door flings open, and Gila startles.

“Aidy?”

Her daughter bounds into the kitchen, tosses her jacket over a chair. Shifra’s at her seventh job interview, and Aidy had gone out with friends, adamantly refusing to fill out any more job applications until she heard back from Bnos Bracha. She’d interviewed two days ago, and they’d promised to call within the week…

“I got the job, I got the job!” Aidy’s floating.

She got the job. Gila feels her shoulders sag in relief.

“…And they want me to come in for meetings this week, and then when school starts, I’ll be doing…” Aidy chatters on, bubbling over, and part of Gila is overjoyed even while the other part feels like it’s sinking to her toes.

How will Shifra feel now? Aidy’s landed a dream position with almost no effort, while Shifra’s still sending out her résumé and going for interviews, her smile getting more strained each time.

Maybe it’s time to make some calls on Shifra’s behalf. Maybe she could find a job just as prestigious and exciting as Aidy’s. After all, Shifra doesn’t deserve any less.

Aidy’s sprawled on the sofa, laptop perched precariously on her knees. She’s humming some song with a fast beat, something Gila doesn’t know.

Across from Aidy, in the open-plan dining room, Shifra sits hunched over her own computer. Soft classical music steals from the speakers as she furrows her brow in concentration.

Gila pulls out a chair, sits beside her.

“So, I was talking to Mrs. Friedberg. You know, the principal of Malchus Bais Yaakov?” she says, casually, as if Atara Friedberg is a regular on her contact list. “She was saying she had some job openings for next year. One of them sounded interesting…” Gila slows. She needs Shifra on board for this; she can’t scare her by going too fast.

Shifra looks up from her computer, gives a distracted smile. “A job? I actually have one already.”

“You have one?” Gila doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or hurt. “You didn’t say anything… what is it?”

Oh please, let it be something that matches up to Aidy’s amazing offer.

Shifra’s cheeks color. “I actually only just accepted it, that’s why I hadn’t said anything. They offered it to me two days ago but I wanted to think about it first.”

Two days. For two days, she’s been frantically networking, worrying about her daughter’s job prospects, and meanwhile she’s been sitting on a job offer, and she hasn’t said a word. It’s so… Shifra.

“Wow. So, what’s the job?” Gila holds her breath.

Shifra adjusts the screen to show her a formal-looking email. “It’s a secretarial position. In a real estate office. It’s a quiet office, just me and the bookkeeper, she’s a frum woman also. The men who run the business have their own offices,” she explains. “And the hours are amazing, it’s not full-full-time so I’ll be able to work on other stuff as well, but the pay is still good.”

She sounds a little anxious. Shifra? That’s not like her.

“Ahh,” Gila says, forcing a small smile. “That sounds… nice.”

Nice. And nerdy. What will be with shidduchim? How will anyone get to know Shifra, holed away in a quiet office with one other woman? This isn’t one of those stories in the magazines, where the bookkeeper turns out to have a son just the right age, and they all live happily ever after.

“You think so? I’m really happy about it.”

Happy? Gila wonders about that. Obviously, Shifra would rather a job like Aidy’s, she just — for some frustrating reason, despite Gila’s constant efforts to help her see herself differently — thinks this is all she can do.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe there’s still something I can do.

Gila pats Shifra’s shoulder. “They’ll be lucky to have you. You’ll be an asset wherever you end up working.”

And if it’s up to me, it’s not going to be in a dinky real estate office.

Apparently, it’s not so simple to apply for jobs on her daughter’s behalf.

“Interesting,” pronounces Mrs. Tina Spiegel, director of the special education department in a large mainstream school. “I’d love to speak to your daughter herself, rather than her mother…” she lets the sentence dangle, meaningfully.

Gila swallows. She’s making Shifra look worse.

“Oh, my daughter’s been so busy with applications and interviews, I figured I’d help her out by researching for vacancies,” she says airily. “And you know, she’s going to be snatched up. She’s super talented, really geshikt, and…”

Mrs. Spiegel’s tone warms. “You said your name was Fuerst? Your daughter’s a twin?”

“Yes, yes!” Gila trills. “You’ve met them?”

“I think so. She made a great impression.” Mrs. Spiegel hmmed. “To be honest, I’ve interviewed several candidates for the open position we have for director of our after-school integration program, but I’ll squeeze your daughter in as well. Can she come in tomorrow morning?”

“I’m sure she can make it work,” Gila assures her. She takes a moment, after she hangs up the phone, to dance around the kitchen. Yes, yes, yes!

The door opens. “Ma?”

It’s Shifra.

“Oh, just who I was hoping to speak to!” Gila says, beaming at her daughter. “Guess what? I’ve got you an interview for the most amazing job. You’re going to love it!”

“Wait.” Shifra drops into a chair. “Wait a minute. You got me an interview? But I have a job.”

“This one’s way better, trust me.” Gila describes the position. Leadership, creativity, skills and people and experience… she could just picture her twins’ shidduch résumés: Aidy as the extracurricular director at a prestigious high school, Shifra directing a major integrative after-school program for children with special needs.

“It’s not for me,” Shifra states flatly.

“Why not? You’ll be so good at it. Organization, keeping things running smoothly…”

“Organization, yes, but not the whole rah-rah, camp director, program leader type. Come on, Ma, let Aidy interview if you really want one of us to land that job.”

But Aidy has a prestigious position already, Gila thinks. And this is your chance to get one, too.

“Just go to the interview. What harm can it do?”

Shifra shakes her head. “I’ve accepted another job. I can’t, Ma, it’s not right.”

“Why not? This has a higher salary, and is a much better fit, you know? I think you can apologize to the first place and tell them something else came up. I’m sure they had a million candidates, they’ll just take someone else. You haven’t even started yet…”

Shifra pushes back her chair. “Listen, I can go just to see what the hours are or whatever, but I really, really, really don’t think it’s for me.”

Gila davens Shacharis with extra kavanah the next morning.

Please Hashem, let Shifra be offered the job. Let them recognize her strengths and let her recognize them too.

She’s about to open her sefer Tehillim, when the door opens.

Shifra!

“Sweetie? How was the interview?”

Shifra yanks a cup from the dispenser, fills it with water. Her movements are rough, angry. “It was a disaster. Thank you.”

Shifra, sarcastic? What on earth—

“Mrs. Spiegel was very excited to see me. Said she remembered all those times I starred in leading roles in the high school productions, and as soon as my mother mentioned how talented I was, she’d made the connection, and dramatic skills are such a plus for this sort of job, there’s so much dynamic leadership involved…” Shifra paused for breath and a sip of the water. “Then she was looking at me a bit strangely, wondering if she’d got the right person, and of course, I had to tell her she was remembering Aidy, not me.”

Gila tries to pull Shifra into a hug, but her daughter takes a step back. “Ma. You spoke to her. Why did you make it sound as if I’m like Aidy? I’m not like her, and she isn’t like me. We never have been. We never will be. All this comparing is just… just…” She shakes her head wordlessly. A moment later, she’s tossed the plastic cup and is headed upstairs to her room.

Gila wanders through a store with cute knickknacks, looking idly for a small plant for her desk. After that disastrous conversation with Shifra, she needs a distraction.

Something catches her eye, an adorable oversized mug with the words, “Good luck in your new job!” dancing merrily across it. Aidy would love it; Gila could just see her taking it to work and displaying it prominently in the teachers’ lounge for her morning coffee.

Shifra’s not a coffee drinker. Would she even use such a mug? She’d probably find it big and clunky…

Gila gives her head a little shake and determinedly puts a second mug in her cart. Of course she’ll treat Shifra to the same gift. Let her not think that her job isn’t just as special and important as Aidy’s.

If the world didn’t give her daughter the respect she deserved, at least her own mother could.

“Gila?”

She’s loading shopping bags into the trunk when she hears a familiar voice behind her.

“Raizy, hi!”

“Hey, sis. Fancy meeting you here.”

Raizy fiddles with the clasp of her pocketbook, slips her phone inside. “Listen, I’m so happy I bumped into you. I’ve been meaning to call, but you know how it is, everything’s always crazy. But anyway, I have to tell you, I feel so lucky to have such a special niece. She’s a total lifesaver.”

Gila tries not to let her surprise show. Aidy? What had she done for Raizy? She’s been so busy recently, what with meetings and phone calls and preparing for the school year, and her very, very active social life.

“Oh, I know she’s awesome, but why now? What did she do?”

Raizy chuckles. “I guess she wouldn’t have told you. She’s not the type to blab about these things. But I wanted you to know… it’s my Chayala, she’s really been having a hard time socially, and having her older cousin as a kind of mentor has been literally life-changing for her. They’ve been going on walks, she talks to her… I think it’s really helping her confidence.”

“Wow.” Gila’s impressed. Aidy’s always been great with people, but this quiet kind of mentoring has never been her forte. And she’s never been amazing at keeping secrets, either. Maybe she’s finally growing up. “I’m so glad to hear that. You know she’s got this job at Bnos Bracha for next year, she’s going to be running the extracurricular department —”

“Extracurricular? In a high school? I thought she was working in an office.” Raizy’s face creases in confusion. “Isn’t it Aidy who’s doing the high school job? She’s totally the type for that.”

Isn’t it Aidy…?

Oh. Oh, oh, oh.

It’s Shifra who’s the lifesaving mentor. Not Aidy.

Of course. That makes a whole lot more sense. The confidentiality, the quiet support, the fact that she understands her younger cousin with the social struggles…

Gila feels the color rise in her cheeks. How did she of all people make that mistake, jump to the conclusion that the gushing accolades were no doubt about Aidy? When she’s the one who’s so conscious of this, and working so hard to look at them equally?

Raizy’s lips turn up in an understanding smile. “I love your Aidy, but honestly, she’s too different from my Chayala, and Shifra’s so much more cut out for this. Chayala’s much more similar to Shifra. They could be sisters, not cousins, you know?”

Too different. More similar. Not the mentor she would have chosen…

Gila’s mind is whirling. They’re different, the twins, even she knows that. Deep down, though she’s tried to quiet that niggling voice for years. But they are — as much as she’s tried to show them they’re not.

She never wanted Shifra to feel bad. To feel inferior, with talents and skills that sparkled less than her twin sister’s.

And yet Shifra, quiet, unglamorous Shifra, has strengths that Aidy will never have.

They’re not the same at all.

When she comes home, the twins are huddled at the kitchen table together. It looks like Shifra’s helping Aidy prepare something.

“You can totally base that on a Chazal, there’s one that gives exactly that message.” Shifra’s saying. Aidy claps her hands in glee.

“Oh, Shif, you are the best. I know what I want to do for the breakout, but it needs to have some toichen behind it, and it’s so not my type to work that part out…”

“For me, that’s the easy part.” Shifra leans over, types something into Aidy’s computer, and sits back again. “How’s that for your slogan?”

“Perfect,” Aidy breathes. “I owe you big time.”

“You can pay me back by, um, doing the phone calls for me at my job,” Shifra says, winking. “I’m so not looking forward to that part. Talking to strangers, all of it. Give me the computer work any day.”

Gila, in the doorway, wants to cringe. Why does Shifra always have to play this up, make herself sound so…

Then she stops.

This is not about being less or more, she realizes.

It’s about being who they are.

And Shifra is happy. Just like Aidy. They’re both true to themselves, happy with who they are, and it’s only her, Gila, who isn’t.

Is she creating the problem? Would it not even exist without her?

She thinks back over the years. Her strenuous efforts to give the twins the same opportunities. Same camp, same supplies, same seminary, same attention. Pushing for Shifra to get a prominent role in production. A better job. To treat her like her twin sister…

Why did you make it sound as if I’m like Aidy?, Shifra’s words echo in her mind. I’m not like her, and she isn’t like me. We never have been. We never will be.

She’d thought it was Shifra’s insecurity talking, back then. But now she knows better. She knows it’s the truth.

The twins are starting work the same day — September first. Gila’s all ready for the occasion, waffles for breakfast, dripping in maple syrup.

“Yum, Ma. Thanks a mill.” Aidy stands up to put her plate in the sink, Shifra right behind her. “Gotta run. Don’t want to be late on the first day…”

“Just a minute, girls. I have something for each of you.”

Gila takes a deep breath and heads for the dining room. She returns with a gift in each hand. One is large, gift-wrapped in multicolored sparkly wrapping paper, tied with an enormous bow. The other is a slim volume wrapped in silvery gift wrap, ribbons spiraling delicately off each side. Inside Aidy’s is the large mug, filled with marshmallows and a chocolate bar. Inside Shifra’s is a beautiful leather organizer/planner for the year ahead. Shifra will love it.

“For you, Aidy.” She says, handing over the mug with a flourish. “And for you, Shifra.”

And then she watches as the twins break out into identical, matching smiles.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 801)