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Picture This: Chapter 35

Her entire life in Boston had been surrounded by action and drama and chaos. Why had she wanted to leave it all behind?

 

HE

gave a rhythmic knock on the door of the little condo. It swung open to reveal his mother beaming at him.

“I love that you’re close enough to just swing by. Hello, hello, sweetheart, how are you doing?”

He leaned down for a kiss. “Baruch Hashem! How’s the unpacking?”

She laughed and adjusted her tichel. “It’s… going. What brings you here? Oh, right, you’re picking Daddy up for the parshah and poppers thing, right? You already ate with Estee?”

He thought of the bright, happy kitchen he’d left behind; a smile tugged his lips upward. “Yeah, figured we’d catch the last hour of this thing. Introduce Daddy to everyone.”

His mother was watching him closely, a smile on her own lips. “Great! Dovid, your son is waiting for you.”

His father came out of the study, buttoning his sweater. “Hi, Yonah. I’m ready, although I’m not sure why I’m coming along. What’s an old fogey like me going to speak to these boys about?”

Yonah decided to ignore his father’s doubts, considering they were absolutely groundless. “Great. Bye, Ma!”

Dovid sighed. “See you later, Golda. Dinner was great, thank you!”

Yonah followed his father down the path and, with an elaborate bow, opened the passenger side for him.

His father grunted. “Drive slowly, please. Like I said, I’m an old man. How far is this?”

Yonah slid next to him. “Two blocks away and I will drive so perfectly, you’ll think it’s my driver’s test.”

So, of course, when he cut off an old man crawling at 15 miles per hour, his father declared that he’d failed. Oh, well.

The little house was quiet. Golda washed the supper dishes, dried them, put them away, wiped down the table, wiped down the counters, swept — and suddenly realized that she was bored stiff.

No one had pushed open her door to ask if they could chat, nobody knocked to tell her the heating in the bikur cholim apartment was on the fritz. It was just her, and her empty countertops, and frankly, she was lonely.

It was a strange feeling. Her entire life in Boston had been surrounded by action and drama and chaos. Why had she wanted to leave it all behind?

She laughed out loud at all the ruminating. The sound echoed around the small space. She was fine. She was happy. Picking up her phone, her fingers hovered over the keypad. She would just call—

She set it down gently. Who? Who would she call?

Gita? She was probably sitting down with her husband; they started having late dinners. Also, if she was being totally honest, she didn’t really want to hear Gita go on and on about the chesed apartment right now. Yonah was busy, and she wasn’t calling Estee, that’s for sure. Aryeh wasn’t a schmoozer…. Why couldn’t she think of a single person who she hadn’t given birth to?

She plopped onto the curved leather kitchen chair she’d been so excited to pick out. Oysh, was she pathetic?

She had no friends — she’d never had the time that close friendships required. And without the people she used to give to, she had no social life anymore. It was just going to be her and her integrated appliances, waiting for Dovid to come home from making a difference. What had she done?

What had he done? He’d just wanted to include his father, but suddenly, he was feeling superfluous. Obviously, despite his doubts, Dad was a huge hit. He’d picked up some kid’s yo-yo and was performing around 100 tricks, while the boys hooted and catcalled and cheered him on. Yonah did not know a single yo-yo trick, mainly because when he had been growing up, it was all about razor skateboards and hoverboards.

He felt his grin start to crack as he watched his father bond with the boys. It’d been like this his whole life; his friends would rather schmooze with his father than with him. He hadn’t minded then, but now it was kind of annoying.  Rabbi Wagschal kept flashing him thumb-ups from across the room and waggling his eyebrows in Daddy’s direction. Yes, yes, my father is effortlessly amazing with people. Old news.

Also, old news? He, Yonah, son of effortless socializer, was the apple that had fallen far from the tree. He had to think about his interactions with people, and then he overthought them to the point of feeling awkward.

And now Rabbi Wagschal had just told him there was going to be a breakfast shiur on Thursday that Yonah was tempted to attend. What would his father say if he saw him there? And honestly, why was he even considering it? Estee would not be amused. And his father… well, his father would be flat-out disappointed.

She pushed her cart through the aisles of Gourmet Glatt, feeling lazy and happy. She’d gotten paid for her last shoot and figured she’d do a little luxurious grocery shopping. Fancy popcorn, check. Pre-flavored chicken, check. Schmerling’s chocolate, check, check — pareve and milchig, obviously.

It was moments like these that being grown up felt so right. So good. So easy. Maybe she’d even bake something nice for Yonah later. Cinnamon buns? Or those chocolate chip cookies she’d tasted at the Rosh Chodesh event? Chanita Landau had said the secret ingredient was cornstarch.

Who’d have thought. Although Mommy did have a similar recipe… She’d better call her.

She almost started speaking after the second ring but then realized that it was still ringing. Mommy hadn’t picked up. That was strange.

Her mother always answered. Always.

Was something wrong?

Mommy was for sure fine — she’d just seen her on Friday when she’d popped over to pick up some Shabbos food. She’d try again.

She loaded pasta and rice into the wagon — her kollel additions — and waited for her mother to answer. Nothing.

Okay, time to call the cavalry.

She leaned against a stack of paper towels.

“Hello?”

Phew! “Avigail?”

“Hey, Est, how’s it going?”

“Baruch Hashem. Random question, do you know where Mommy is?”

She heard muffled sounds, a little laugh, then, “Sorry, Est! Yeah, Mommy is right here. We ran to Polka Dot for some more dating clothing.”

Estee felt a huge rush of relief. Dating clothing, of course. Only… “Did Mommy not hear the phone?”

“Sorry,” Avigail said, not sounding that sorry, “I had just been showing her a dress. She says she’ll call you later, okay?”

Estee blinked. She needed to keep walking, she looked crazy, leaning on cleaning supplies like this.

“Sure. Thanks, Avigail. Have fun.”

Well, she thought, as she walked down the aisle and then doubled back to actually grab a pack of paper towels, that had been strange. Very strange.

Mommy always picked up. She was always there. Always. Even though she’s married and Yonah highly objects to this being the case.

But right now, Mommy was shopping and laughing with Avigail. And she was all alone in Gourmet Glatt.

To be continued…

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1042)

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