What was up with Ayala’s negativity? She literally sounded like she didn’t even like her husband of one month

T

he boys were working out again. It was an on-again, off-again thing at Teiger’s: Buy all the whey powders and talk about how you can’t drink beer at oneg because it’ll weigh you down at your workout Sunday morning before first seder.

Then they’d get lazy and the barbells would get dusty, until someone would get inspired and the boys would all be pumping iron again. It was a cycle, and right now, it was in full swing.

He stuffed his sneakers and shorts into a bag, and tried to be quiet as he shook up his pre-workout, but Estee’s silent appearance in the kitchen made him feel like he’d been thundering around the house.

“You scared me!” he said, hand to his heart.

She smiled sleepily. “Are you going to yeshivah now?”

“Don’t I go to yeshivah every day?”

She blushed. “Well, yeah, but not, uh, lately, at this hour….”

That hurt. He tried to smile calmly. “Well, here I am, in the flesh. And with that, I bid you adieu.” He gave a little bow, surreptitiously grabbed his gym bag and tallis bag, and rushed out the front door.

So, what, he thought, as he jogged along. So, what, that the first adrenaline he’d had in a while to get up on time was because Rubinstein told him there was pre-seder workout? It didn’t mean anything. Well, at least nothing much. Although he had no doubt that Estee would feel differently.