*

It was a trap. She should have realized it when Mindy insisted on taking her out for lunch.

“My treat — we haven’t schmoozed in so long and you deserve some pampering.”

That made no sense. They’d never had a schmoozing relationship, to Chaim’s chagrin. But Sarah had learned that it was easier to yes Mindy than to argue; at least there wouldn’t be a fight and frustrated husbands to deal with. She’d sensed this tactic was bound to backfire one day — and that day was today.

“I need your course-creation genius,” Mindy said. It was innocuous enough; Sarah was happy to help family. But then Mindy said, “I’ve taken every parenting course out there — I know the material cold. I want to do a meta course, take the best material and teach it.”

“A parenting course?” Sarah struggled to level her voice. She’d already swallowed the reflex to spit out her coffee.

“It’s smart, right? Everyone says money is in courses and coaching. And I’m at the stage where I need more flexibility, so an online course is perfect,” Mindy said. “At first, I was like, but what can I teach? And I realized I’ve taken all these courses, I’ve tried them all out on me and the kids; I can do this.”

Sarah dabbed her mouth with a napkin. The motion stifled her urge to yell, “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.” Maybe she could pay for lunch, Sarah thought. And that would stop the reciprocity cycle Mindy had started. Did Mindy even get the marketing ploy she had just pulled, or was it a subconscious strategy?

“…and I have all the material, but like the marketing, the tech, I don’t know anything. But I have a brilliant sister-in-law who knows everything, I realized.”

Mindy was still talking. Sarah spaced back in. Was there any way to get out of this, to stop it, without blowing up her family?

“I know you’d make time for me, cause I’m family,” Mindy said. “But I wanna tell you that I’m flexible with timing. We can do this at like ten o’clock at night when you’re ironing shirts or whatnot.”

Seriously? In the copywriter groups she was on, half the time was spent discussing how to deal with family and friends who “just need” whatever. And ironing shirts? Did Mindy know her at all? Sarah didn’t own an iron: non-iron or fabrics that didn’t need an iron was her creed. No, she didn’t have kids in matching linen seersucker suits.

Mindy pushed every button.

*

“I can’t do this for a million reasons.”

“You can do this for one big one.”

“Family is not everything.”

“Okay, it’s not everything, but Moe is, and therefore his wife is, too.”

She and Chaim had been dancing in opposing lockstep for the last 15 minutes. They were supposed to be cleaning up for the night, but the broom and dishes seemed out of reach for both of them.

“She’s nuts.” Sarah repeated.

“Maybe, but so what.” Chaim finally half conceded.

“So what?” Sarah turned the water on and off absentmindedly. “I can’t help her launch a course that is going to literally hurt people. She has the worst parenting advice ever, she’s all hypervigilant alarm with really bad follow-up.”

“It’s not that bad — it’s… different.” Chaim couldn’t seem to locate a dishtowel. “I can let them dry by themselves, no?”

Sarah ignored the second half.

“You’re kidding. Did you already forget the bedwetting saga?” She pulled out a fleishig dishtowel and dumped in on the counter.

Chaim sidestepped the attitude. “No, but in retrospect was it really that bad? All’s well that ends well.”

Sarah recoiled and her back bumped into the metal oven handle. Her voice went low and slow as she tried to control it.

“Please tell me you’re not being serious. I spend months waiting for appointments, going to specialists, all of whom tell me Ruvi is fine, and Mindy keeps telling me there’s more, and the doctors don’t know — until I finally shut her out and voilà, Ruvi grows out of it with minor intervention, just like the doctors said he would.”

“You didn’t have to listen to her.” Chaim was drying dishes deliberately, dallying on each detail.

“I can’t do this.” Sarah backed away from the kitchen into the dinette.

“Do what?” Chaim gripped a glass.

“You’re rewriting history.” Sarah backed out of the kitchen, pointing a stabbing finger at Chaim. “Do you remember how miserable we were? I was an anxious wreck, my oldest kid, I had no idea what I was doing. Do you remember how many times I broke down; do you remember how many times Ruvi cried; do you remember how much we spent on out-of-network doctors?”

“Calm down, Sarah.” He put the glass down.

“Forget it. I’m tired, going to bed.” Sarah waved him off and walked toward the stairs.

“C’mon,” he said, and yet he didn’t move.

“C’mon you. Seriously, putting your brother’s nutso wife before me.” She stood at the base of the stairs now.

“That’s not—” he tried.

“Goood niiiight,” Sarah cut him off.  “I’m not doing this.” She waved her arms wide and stalked to her room, a million thoughts stabbing her mind. What was he saying?  Did he really not remember? Did he only remember her kvetching? Does he think she’s a kvetchy woman getting in the way of his movie-star adulation of his mediocre older brother? This is what she gets for being a good mother and wife? And now she’d be enabling this to happen to other mothers?

She went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, grabbing at the vanity mirror for her toothbrush. It swung back into her face.

“OW!” she clutched her cheek and eye.

Her husband didn’t come to check on her. She got her toothbrush and slammed the mirrored door shut. It thwacked and ricocheted back at her, hitting her face again. She didn’t cry out this time.

She brushed her teeth, took out her lenses, washed her face, put on moisturizer and serum, and went to bed. Chaim was still downstairs in the kitchen; she could hear him puttering around. Probably eating now, crackers and hummus or leftovers. Selfish Mindy, her shalom bayis had been fine until she came along.

*

Hey

The text said no more. Chaim was reaching out. That’s how they were, quick to flare, but losing gas soon after.

Hey, she responded and attempted to concentrate on her screen. The email sequence for this client was not going to write itself.

Wanna do lunch?

That was sweet. She hesitated. She had work. And he had been so mean last night. She wanted to say no — let him feel it. But she wasn’t that woman — she wasn’t Mindy — all sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Sure, two thirty Café Lotta

Expensive choice — you’re worth it!

Sweet. Yes, she was worth it — DIY Internal Family Systems emails would have to wait.

Over frappuccinos and croissants, Chaim got down to it.

“What did I miss last night?” he asked. “Cause I thought we were having a conversation, I disagreed with you, but like it was a conversation. And you lost it on me.”

Sarah swallowed hard — take the sentiment, not the words. She fingered the fallen croissant crumbs. She couldn’t remember every word he had said, only the pit-in-stomach, spiderweb-spread horror that Chaim did not get it at all and was making her out to be the drama queen.

“I think you said the bedwetting thing wasn’t so bad. And because it all turned out okay, what’s the big deal. And that was just—” Sarah struggled for the words. They weren’t coming; also she didn’t want to cry in public.

Chaim waited.

“Like you didn’t really go through it, you were a spectator. I gave you updates and stuff about what was going on, but it wasn’t your marathon, where you’re dying at mile twelve but also don’t even know you’re running a marathon, you thought it was a 5k.”

“So what are you saying?” Chaim hadn’t touched anything yet.

Sarah exhaled. She tapped her fingertips together, trying to find the words.

“When you said that it wasn’t a big deal, it made me feel like you have no idea what I went through, and what Ruvi went through, and I felt very misunderstood.” She paused to check if Chaim was still listening, “And more than that, you didn’t understand, so you were easily able to dismiss it.”

Chaim was quiet.

“I hear you,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, tears peeking out the corner of her eyes. She paused, took a sip, and tried again. “We didn’t really resolve last night’s question.”

“Right, you don’t want to help Mindy because of principles?” He made air quotes around principles. It took everything for Sarah to not bang the table. But Chaim wasn’t done. “I guess I don’t see the big deal, even if you think her course will be a terrible product. People do their research, or they should do their research before taking advice from a random expert.” Chaim shrugged and finally took a bite of croissant, crumbs flaking willy-nilly.

“Do you even know what I do for a living?” Sarah modulated her tone, but heard it get almost as cold as the frap.

“Course launches?”

“Yes, and?” Sarah gestured to him to continue.

Chaim offered a one-shoulder shrug. Augh!

“I plan the copy, I write the sales page, the email sequence, the webinar pitch script, I gather the testimonials.” Sarah ticked off her fingers. “Everything I do makes the person out to be an expert in their own unique way.”

“You lie?” Chaim might have been teasing, she wasn’t sure, her reflex kicked in anyway.

“No! Because people who launch courses generally are experts in what they’re teaching. But yes,” she conceded. “I know how to position them as THE expert and not just AN expert.”

“Got it. So you don’t want to lie for Mindy,” Chaim interpreted and took a sip from his frap.

“I would never lie, but if I do my job right — and I always do my job right — I can present her in a way that doesn’t lie, but does put her in a light that will make people want to take her course.”

Sarah looked past her husband at the rest of the café. All the patrons seemed calm and contained; what did she look like? Chaim looked chilled. Was she the crazy one?

“Sounds fishy,” Chaim said. “Like what would you do?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I didn’t do research yet. Maybe I’d present her as the perfect older sister — then she doesn’t need letters after her name.”

“Ah, I get it. That’s smart.” Chaim smiled, and Sarah felt appreciated, creatively. Silver lining.

“That’s marketing,” she said pointedly. “And if people are coming to her as the older sister, then she doesn’t need expertise, just a good marketing plan.”

Chaim went quiet. He wrapped and unwrapped the straw wrapper around his finger.

“What do you want me to say?” he said finally.

Sarah sucked on her lip. “That I don’t have to help her?”

Chaim sighed, put down the straw wrapper and started flattening and straightening it.

“You don’t have to do anything… but—”

“Exactly,” Sarah jumped in, pointing her own straw at Chaim. “It’s all in the but. I want to not do it and for there be no fallout.”

Chaim said nothing. There was no way for Sarah to avoid fallout. Not with Mindy, not with Moe, not even with Chaim.

“I’ll be honest,” he said, which is never a good start. “I get it, but only so far. Meaning, when you lay out the problem like that it makes sense that you don’t want to do her marketing, but when I overlay reality, it doesn’t seem as big a deal as you’re making it. Family relationships mean more. The world you’re supposedly saving can save themselves.” He took a bite of croissant.

The conversation felt over.

He wasn’t going to get it; he didn’t want to get it. He couldn’t envision all the mothers who’d buy Mindy’s course. And what could she do? Choose the world over her shalom bayis? She wasn’t that much of a martyr.

*

The dining room table was cluttered, deliberately so. Sarah had printed samples from all the course launches she’d done to date. She even splurged and printed them in color.

“Such a waste,” Chaim commented as she fanned them out over the table. “You don’t have to convince Mindy.”

“I’m giving her the full experience,” Sarah said. Which sounded nice and hid the truth.

“Whoa,” Mindy said when she came in. “Do always work in such a messy workspace? So not like you.”

Sarah sucked in her cheeks. Stick to the plan.

“Nah,” she said cheerfully, “but first sessions are crucial to really getting the vision. I wanna walk you through the roadmap, and then we’ll come back and plug it in to your vision.”

“My vision, I like that,” Mindy said. “Such a smart markety word choice.” She pushed the piles of paper to the center of the table and took the seat at the head.

“So your course reflects you and passions and the years that built up to your expertise,” Sarah began. “You bring all of it into your course. If you charge a premium, you need to be a premium, so we’ll have to get full clarity on who you are, what drives you, and why they should take this course from you.”

“Good thing I have you to make me look good,” Mindy said. “I mean, I know a ton about parenting, I’ve invested a ton in myself, but I’m giving this course for the same reasons everyone else is — passive income, a flexible coaching schedule, and working from a lounge chair on a beach somewhere sipping strawberry daiquiris.”

Mindy smiled at Sarah, looking for confirmation. Sarah did not give it. Instead, she thought of one of the launches she was currently working on: a therapist, super passionate, crazy intelligent, but without an ounce of stage presence. He was the literal opposite of Mindy, and the irony was sad.

“We’ll get to the content last,” she resumed her presentation. “Because I actually think your course is one you’d want to presell before you build.”

Mindy’s face drew a blank. “Whaddya mean? Why?”

“You don’t have a following, no one knows your name, your approach and stuff, why would people spend money to learn from you?”

“Well thanks, isn’t that what you’re for?”

“Yes and no. I come in at the course launch stage, but there’s a lot of marketing that comes before that. Building up a social following, having PR in some media, being a guest on a podcast so people know you exist. Right now, you’re starting from scratch.”

“Isn’t that most people doing courses?” Mindy asked.

“Not really.” Sarah tried not to sound condescending. “Even no-name people are often on LinkedIn talking about their work and stuff before they launch a course. So even if no one but their connections on LinkedIn heard of them, there’s still an audience.”

“Moms are not on LinkedIn,” Mindy argued.

“They are, but they’re there for business, not parenting. But that’s not the point.”

“You’re saying it’s too early to launch a course?”

Bingo, exactly what Sarah wanted her to think.

“A little bit.”

Mindy shrugged. “Okay, helps me set my expectations a bit more. Maybe this’ll be a minicourse, and people will love it so much that they’ll want a follow-up and then I’ll have a following, and the next course will be bigger, better, and more importantly — more expensive.”

Leave it to Mindy to mentally finagle her way out of bad news.

Sarah drummed absentmindedly on the table. “’Kay, great,” she said. “Let me go through with you now the whole course launch checklist, like all the stuff that needs to be in place, and then we can figure out next steps.”

“A checklist, that’s so cute.”

Sarah tried to ignore that. She closed her eyes, rolled them so Mindy couldn’t see, and opened them up again. She gave Mindy the warmest tight smile she could manage.

“First thing is audience,” she said. “You need to figure out who you’re targeting, what are their likes and dislikes, what’s their pain point or their dream — and practically, where do they hang out so you can meet them there.”

Mindy tried talking, even got out an “I—” but Sarah cut her off.

“Before you ask, listen to it all, then we’ll work through it together.” That was Sarah’s plan anyway. She went on a nearly ten-minute monologue on cultivating trust, lead magnets, email lists, email sequences, GDPR, and landing pages. Stuck in as many tangential details as she could, even if they had no immediate relevance.

Would it work? Mindy was still listening, actually taking notes.

Sarah continued the monologue, discussing site layout, photo shoots, pricing options, webinars, and guest appearances on podcasts and blogs, her mind saying, stuff in more, more, more.

“When do we get to the actual course?” Mindy interrupted. “Because right now it sounds like a lot of time and effort before I even maybe see a dime.”

Yes, yes, it’s working.

“Well, yeah,” Sarah agreed. “Think of who you would take a course from, how you heard of them, and how many different places you saw or heard about them before feeling comfortable with them. A lot, right? So a parenting course needs to match on a lot of levels — chinuch approach, hashkafah. It’s not like an art course or an Excel course where you can easily see the skill set of the instructor. Killer testimonials can do wonders.”

Mindy frowned. “Who’s giving me a testimonial? I haven’t done anything yet, as you pointed out.”

Sarah grinned internally; it was working.

“You can offer a free coaching session to people in exchange for a testimonial,” she suggested.

“Best idea!”

And like that, Mindy’s verve was back. What would it take to overwhelm her?

Mindy clasped her hands together. “Okay, we have our work cut out for us,” she said. She most decidedly did not sound discouraged. “I had no idea course launches were so intensive. I’ll get to work on testimonials ASAP, cause everything else we can do ourselves. You start on the ads and the webinar whatnot stuff, and I’m going to get us some testimonials.”

She is indefatigable, that Mindy, Sarah thought. She had been exactly this aggressive when she was trying to “help” with the bedwetting saga, too.

Sarah sighed. Mindy meant well, even she could admit that, but everyone knows which road good intentions pave.

*

“Can I ask you something?” Racheli Schwartz leaned in closer than usual at the playground.

“Sure,” Sarah said, curious.

“So I bumped into your sister-in-law Mindy two days ago, and we were schmoozing, and something one of my kids did came up. She got all excited, telling me she was starting this parenting course and she was doing free coaching sessions in exchange for testimonials, that you’re helping her and that I should call her.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. She was trying to remember how Mindy and Racheli knew each other. Right, Racheli was Mindy’s high school BFF’s youngest sister, and she and Racheli were neighbors. Ugh, the world was too small.

“Yup, she’s doing that,” Sarah confirmed.

“So I met with her yesterday and I dunno….” Racheli trailed off.

Sarah could feel her struggle. If she said something about the session felt off then who would seem like the crazy one, herself or Mindy? Sarah knew that destabilizing thought pattern well.

“What did your kid do, and what did Mindy suggest?” she asked.

Racheli took a deep breath and looked away, embarrassed. What did her son do already, Sarah wondered, and more so, what did Mindy say that’s making Racheli talk to her, what mess did she make already?

“He got into my Amazon account and ordered a bunch of Playmobil sets, like five hundred dollars worth,” Racheli said, still looking into the distance. “By the time I figured out what happened he’d opened all the sets, mixed up the pieces and it’s a nightmare to sort though. So I don’t know what do with him, because like, what made him do that — and what am I supposed to do with five hundred dollars worth of Playmobil?”

Sarah was quiet. It was a thorny situation. She tried imagining if Ruvi did that, what her first instinct would be.

“What was Mindy’s take?” Sarah prodded.

Racheli bit her lip. “Mindy thought my son is exhibiting signs of an impulse control disorder and it might be based on nutritional deficiencies.”

“What?” Sarah blurted. That was ridiculous, even for Mindy.

Racheli seemed relieved at her response. “You also think it’s weird? Like she doesn’t even know my kid, he’s really great all-around, this is so not like him.”

“Yeah,” Sarah confirmed vaguely. She didn’t want to continue this conversation; nothing good would come of it, not for her, not Racheli, not Mindy.

“I kept pressing Mindy to explain it,” Racheli went on, “but she was so sure this was it. The way she explained it made sense, but I dunno. Like it could be the answer if someone else’s kid did it, but it didn’t match my kid.”

“Right,” Sarah said. She let Racheli talk with little prompting.

“Anyway, I scheduled him for bloodwork, and I’m taking him to the pediatrician, we’ll see what we can rule out.”

“Oh wow,” Sarah said, a sinkhole appearing in her stomach. She knew the maddening struggle Racheli was about to embark on. Say something, her mind poked her. Say something or it’s your fault, too. You told Mindy to get testimonials.

“Have you considered talking to another chinuch expert, get a second opinion?” she asked.

Racheli blinked. “Not really. It’s not a bad idea,” she said. “I guess I was happy to get advice for free, because people are going to pay for this.”

Exactly, thought Sarah, marketing 101: we mentally devalue what we get for free, and value something we paid for. If Racheli was thinking this, imagine what the women who actually paid for Mindy’s course would do.

There was a silence. Sarah didn’t know how to fill it, or what to fill it with.

Racheli spoke instead. “And to be honest, I don’t really have who else to ask.”

Sarah ears perked at that. Who would she ask? When it came to the bedwetting saga, she eventually listened to her instinct and the doctors, and that was hard. Who would she and Chaim even ask these questions to?

“Right,” Sarah said. She had nothing smart to add. She looked around. Her kids were sitting at the top of the slide, hogging the spot. She stood up and waved at them.

“Shira, Adina, you gotta move, you can’t hog the spot, come down.”

She needed to get home. Mindy was making a mess in the world, and now it was partially her fault.

*

The call came just as Map My Run was listing her split pace. It cut off at the most recent one.

“Call from Bracha, do you want to answer it?” Siri asked.

“Yes,” Sarah gasped. There was the pause for the call to connect. “Hello?” Sarah tried to sound even-keeled, but she couldn’t hide her runner’s breath.

“Are you running?” Bracha asked.

“Yes, but it’s okay to talk now.”

“No, I’ll call later.”

“I already answered, what’s up?” her words came out in rhythmic spurts.

“I was just thinking about what you told me at the upsheren, and I did some research, and Mindy’s not totally off, what she described could be Shmuel.”

Sarah knew this two-sided coin. You don’t want to believe the worst, but it seems irresponsible not to seriously consider it. She tapped on her phone to check her time; she was only midway through her run. And she’d already slowed down, her timing was shot on this split.

“Bracha, trust your gut as Shmuel’s mother,” she said emphatically. “Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that you don’t know best, or makes you question it.” She looked ahead, the road was curving and splitting; should she pass the playground or go around it?

“But— ” Bracha started.

“And you know what they tell all med students — when you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras.”

“What does that mean?”

“Zebras are cool, but horses are more common. Whatever Mindy said is not impossible but definitely improbable.” A stitch started forming below her right rib.  Breath into it, she told herself.

“You really think my Shmueli’s fine?”

She wasn’t an early childhood expert, but her experience had taught her enough. “I don’t know anything, but I do know that if I’m getting anxious from something Mindy said, it’s most likely nothing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I dunno… what even happened that you’re strong on this?”

Sarah slowed down her pace deliberately to a slow jog and the heavy breath followed. Stick to the facts.

“Ruvi was still bedwetting every night at six,” she said. “I mentioned it to Mindy, who freaked me out about hormonal imbalances and lifelong issues. I saw a million doctors, specialists, and physical therapists, all saying he’d grow out of it, suggesting a bedwetting alarm or meds if needed later. Mindy kept asking for updates and reports and she dismissed every doctor, saying they missed details. I was a nervous wreck. Finally, we saw a top pediatric urologist, who questioned why we were there after seeing all the previous opinions. We were paying out-of-pocket, too. When I mentioned my sister-in-law’s concerns, he blasted her lack of a medical degree and told me that the condition she suggested had other symptoms. It was totally not related to what was going on with Ruvi. He echoed the other doctors and then asked who I’d consult next. It hit me — why wasn’t I listening to the doctors?”

“Doctors don’t always know….” Bracha said.

“No, they don’t,” Sarah agreed. “I have experience with my mother, whatever. But also, Mindy hounded me.”

Bracha was quiet. “What happened with Ruvi?”

“Nothing, we did a medical-grade bedwetting alarm. It took three months, but he’s fine.” Sarah massaged her ribs. No relief.

“Oh.”

“Do what feels right to you,” Sarah said.

“But I don’t know what’s right. How am I supposed to know?”

Sarah sighed; she understood that plea too well. “Talk to real experts, not well-intentioned advice givers.”

Bracha sighed. Sarah sighed.

“I wanna finish this run,” Sarah said. “We can talk later.”

“Okay thanks, bye.”

Sarah hung up and stopped jogging. Running more would clear her mind, but right now she just wanted to stew. It wasn’t just her, it was Racheli, and Bracha — it was every mother Mindy touched. How much more havoc could she be a bystander, or even a facilitator, to? Mindy and Moe were coming over for Shalosh Seudos. She had to say something.

*

“Please don’t say anything,” Chaim whispered. Sarah looked at him, then at the filled cup in front of her. She wanted to shrug, maybe throw the water at him. A deep sadness rose in her. Neighbor versus spouse. Why did she have to choose? Chaim tried to understand, but when it came to conflict and family it was like his brain registered an error code; it wasn’t possible. As if all those vulnerable women sure to be hurt by Mindy didn’t exist. How many women needed to struggle before she was allowed to speak up?

“If she brings anything up, I’m saying something, but if not, not.”

They entered the dining room for hamotzi silent in an uneasy truce.

“Can you pass the cream cheese?” Moe asked. Shalosh Seudos was too quiet. Sarah found she couldn’t talk to Mindy, she couldn’t start a conversation, too afraid her thoughts would betray her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Mindy said. Startled, Sarah looked up and pulled a pasty smile. “By the way, nisht oif Shabbos geredt, we need to rethink my course marketing.”

Sarah sat upright. She glanced at Chaim, who seemed stricken.

“What do you mean?”

“You know we spoke about getting testimonials, so I did a free session with Racheli Schwartz, remember her?”

Sarah nodded vigorously.

“I was so surprised at myself, but I really didn’t enjoy it.”

“REALLY?” Sarah’s glee oozed.

“Yes. She gave me such pushback, asked a million questions about everything I said. Was not what I thought it would be.”

Sarah’s chest swelled. Mindy feeling doubt, what marvelous poetic justice.

“So what are you going to do?” Sarah tried to sound concerned. She reached for a baby carrot and dipped it into hummus — she needed something in her mouth, she couldn’t trust her face.

“I don’t know yet,” Mindy said. “It’s probably just her, she’s not coachable. Know what I mean? There are people who just can’t expand their mindset, they’ll never grow. They sound smart questioning everything, but really, they’re the ones eternally suffering in their own self-made prison of ‘critical thinking.’ ”

Classic Mindy. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“I probably need to find other people for testimonials,” she went on. “Or maybe clarify my approach, like, is the big sister model the way to go?”

Sarah tapped her fork rhythmically on the table edge. Say something, say something, say something. “Have you thought about how the advice came across to her and why she questioned it?”

Mindy’s eyes flashed. And Sarah had thought she’d phrased it so kindly and vaguely. She wanted to move her seat over, be closer to Chaim for protection, but she knew she was on her own.

“Have you read Healthy Gut, Healthy Child?” Mindy asked. “Do you know about heavy metal toxicity protocols? Do you know how to read a scientific paper?”

It’s rhetorical, Sarah, stay silent.

“When you seek advice it’s because you don’t know the answer,” Mindy went on. “If you did, you wouldn’t ask. People seeking advice aren’t really in a position to question the advice — they don’t know enough to get it.”

Mindy paused, looked around the table. The kids continued eating at the other end, blissfully unaware. Sarah could feel frustration radiating from Chaim. Say something, say something, say something. Save the world.

“I think,” Sarah started, “I think, there’s something to be said for a mother’s intuition. And just because you’ve amassed knowledge, it doesn’t translate to practice.” She took a deep breath. Reason, don’t just attack, defend your position. Her brain was on fire, her legs twitched to flee, but she’d already dug the hole, she might as well fill it. “I’ve helped dozens of courses launch and I know the material cold — I need to in order to market it. But I’ve put a fraction into action. And I definitely can’t teach it to someone else.”

Mindy met her gaze. “Are you saying I’m unqualified?”

Of course, Mindy would be straightforward. Sarah’s throat throbbed; she willed it to swallow the pooling bile. She mistakenly glanced at Chaim. He was looking at Moe, making gestures to him, indicating Sarah, like he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Are you familiar with Brené Brown?” Mindy pressed.

Sarah shook her head imperceptibly; it didn’t make a difference.

“She has this credo that I think is brilliant. She says ‘clear is kind.’ ”

How did Mindy do that? How did she flip the script? Now Sarah was suddenly the bad guy. What could she say? Where were the men, why didn’t they speak up, switch the subject, cool the room, sing zemiros — something!

“You thought you were being nice by not saying anything and agreeing to work on my launch, but look where we are now,” Mindy said coldly. “Wouldn’t it have been better if you just said it wasn’t something you could support?”

She made it sound so simple. Her tone was that of a teacher, not a hurt sister-in-law. What was real, what was a game? She had wanted to do exactly what Mindy had prescribed, but Chaim had pushed her to…. Then again, would Mindy have even taken her refusal with the equanimity she professed to have now?

“I’m sorry,” Sarah croaked. Unbelievable, she was the one apologizing. Unbelievable.

“If men fought like you women, there’d be world peace by now,” Moe finally cut in. Sarah was grateful for at least that.

Mindy smiled at her, a professional one, with all her teeth. Sarah returned it with a thin, strained line. Lose, lose, she hadn’t even considered these odds. She didn’t dare look at Chaim. It was quiet for a moment, a natural one, not awkward.

Then Mindy spoke again, her tone softer.

“Y’know, I did this whole idea exercise. I found this woman online, she helps you generate ideas for courses based on your ‘zone of genius’ and what people would pay for. I had a bunch of ideas; parenting seemed the most obvious.”

Was Mindy actually being reflective? Would the script be flipped again? Could Sarah risk being played again? For her husband, she could.

“What else were you toying with?” Sarah asked.

Mindy took a slow bite of her bagel before answering. What was her hesitation?

“I was thinking of doing a course maybe on how to run a 5K, since I did Couch to 5K — like, from literally no exercise to serious running. But like my course would be geared to frum women, and then—”

“Brilliant,” Sarah interrupted, while her stomach dropped again. She’s the one who introduced Mindy to running — what to buy, where to run, how to train between runs — while Mindy followed the Couch to 5K schedule. It didn’t matter. This Mindy could take from her.

“Yes, genius,” Chaim cut in, catching Sarah’s eye, and tugged the corner of his mouth into a smile only Sarah knew.

“Really?” Mindy sounded doubtful. “Because, like, it feels too… specific. Like it’s not for a lot of people.”

“Riches are in the niches,” Sarah rattled off.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Sarah assured her. “I know so.”

“Maybe,” Mindy said finally.

Sarah caught Chaim’s eye again. The problem was solved; he seemed happy. She looked around the table: everyone was normal, was eating. And if she was lucky, world peace for her, too — until next time.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1033)