“I was in Reb Azarya’s office. You know the picture of the baby on his desk? The picture of… of….” He took a deep breath. “Yisroel?”

There were some facts of life that Akiva always assumed would one day explain themselves — the “smell of rain” being one of them. The scent, faint and familiar, was growing stronger now, and before Akiva had time to ponder its science any further, he was thoroughly drenched.

He rounded the corner and stopped short. Even in the dense wall of rain he could make out the UPS brown — and upon further squinting, he could discern the driver heaving a large cardboard box out of the truck, right outside the yeshivah building. Akiva wanted nothing more than to sprint down the block to his house, but that box likely contained a new shipment of seforim and, if left out in a downpour like this one, they could get ruined.

He waited for the driver to return to his truck before turning onto the yeshivah’s walkway. He reached the box and tried to lift it… no dice. It was immensely heavy. He quickly punched in the yeshivah’s combination, propped the door open and, between his hands and feet, managed to wrest the box inside.

Akiva leaned against the wall for a moment, panting. He was about to head back outside when the door to Reb Azarya’s office opened.

“Ah, Akiva!” he smiled. “Lovely day outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Akiva grinned sheepishly. “I brought this box in, didn’t want it to get soaked. It weighs a million pounds. What’s in it?”

“A groise yasher koiach, Akiva, that was very thoughtful. It’s the new Oz Vehadar Shulchan Aruch. Beautiful set, have you seen it around?”

Akiva was about to answer but Reb Azarya looked distracted.

“Akiva.” He cleared his throat. “Would you mind stepping into the office for a moment? There’s something brief I wanted to share with you.”

Akiva nodded, absently pulling off his glasses and trying to dry them on his shirt before realizing that his shirt was just as wet. He entered the office and sat down across from Reb Azarya. A round tin pan covered in silver foil sat beside him. Akiva eyed it and Reb Azarya smiled.

“Would you like some? If my sense of smell proves accurate, I think it’s Devorah’s, uh, I mean the rebbetzin’s all-time specialty.”

“Peach pie?!” Akiva grinned, well experienced at hiding his apprehension. “My favorite!” (Lie, but what choice did he have?)

“Okay Akiva, so it’s really quite straightforward. I wanted to make you aware of the fact that there’s a new bochur joining the yeshivah. His name is Yehoshua Baum. He seems bright and motivated, if not a bit, well, shall we say, energetic. But what is relevant to you is that he’s a yasom — his mother passed away a few years ago. I’ve decided to assign him to your room; a boy like that needs extra sensitivity, a quality you’ve demonstrated in abundance.”

This was a very direct compliment, even for Reb Azarya.

“Uh, thanks,” Akiva mumbled.

“That’s all, Akiva. I felt it was important for you to know ahead of time.”

Akiva waited a minute, expecting to be formally dismissed, but a thought seemed to have taken over Reb Azarya’s mind.

“I have great aspirations for this zeman, Akiva!” he said suddenly with a bright smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the new member joining our hanhalah, correct?”

Akiva nodded. Of course he knew, as did all the talmidim in Zichron Yisroel, that for the first time in its history, a menahel would be hired to work directly under Reb Azarya. Reb Chaim Zev Langner was the thirty-six-year-old son-in-law of the yeshivah’s primary patron, Mr. Barry Sittenfeld, and was already known to be a brilliant talmid chacham and highly talented mechanech. Akiva hadn’t given the new hire much thought — he was in camp when the news broke and was too busy writing color war songs — but the expression on Reb Azarya’s face indicated that this was something to be excited about.

“Reb Chaim Zev will add a lot to the yeshivah, I am quite certain of this,” Reb Azarya said. “You are fortunate to be in his shiur. I’m sure you’ll gain tremendously.”

Akiva nodded and Reb Azarya glanced at his watch.

“You’d better run home now, Akiva. It sounds like the rain stopped and if I know your father, he won’t take any risks. I’ll bet he’s starting up the barbecue right now.”

Akiva laughed. Reb Azarya knew his father almost better than he did.

Akiva stood up. “Okay Rosh Yeshivah, I’ll….” He faltered for a minute. Reb Azarya wasn’t looking at him — his eyes were fixed on the small picture frame that never left the corner of his desk. Then his head snapped upward.

“Yes,” Reb Azarya said, the smile back on his face. “I’ll see you around. Send your father my best regards. And let me know if I guessed right about the barbecue!”

“Will do, Rosh Yeshivah!” Akiva swung open the door and jogged the two blocks home.