Estee wrinkled her nose. “I just read an ad for something, what was it… Oh! I know! I was taking photos for this woman, and she mentioned that she’s starting a writing group. For like journaling and expression and things like that. What about that? I mean, obviously, unless you’re, um, still doing the pottery thing—?”

“No,” Golda said firmly, “definitely not. But writing… hmmm. Maybe? Send me the details later, yes?”

“Sure thing,” Estee said.

Dinner was delicious. Her mother-in-law was a fabulous cook, and the whole atmosphere was so calm and pleasant. Estee bit her lip, comparing it to her own house growing up.

To be fair, her family was in an entirely different stage, with kids of all ages. But it was the air… the air wasn’t settled in the Lefkowitz household. It wasn’t content, like it was here. Her mother was very, very different from her mother-in-law. Not to compare, of course. But even the way her in-laws spoke to each other….

“Golda, this is the best chicken I’ve ever had.”

Golda smirked at her husband. “You said that yesterday.”

“That’s because I hadn’t yet tasted today’s,” Yonah chorused with his father.

Estee watched them all crack up. Once, she thought this was a sweet show for her benefit, but now she realized this was their everyday routine. What sorcery was this, with everyone acting happy and complimentary? Where was the hock about other families, the constant review of the day and who said what, where, and when?

Everyone here was so in the moment… and it obviously had everything to do with the relationship between Yonah’s parents.

Golda stood up and gathered the plates, Yonah’s father grabbed the platter of leftover chicken, Yonah scooped up the salad bowl. It was a seamless dance.

She followed them, empty-handed, into the kitchen, and leaned on the door jam, watching the scene unfold. Golda was washing dishes, her father-in-law was drying, and Yonah was scooping compote into little glass bowls. Golda, apparently, could only enjoy dessert if the kitchen was nearly clean.

Yuck, compote. But also, hmmm, maybe she was in the mood….

She laughed at herself. Guess she’d find out after the first bite. Yonah turned around and winked at her. She blushed. Did he know what she was thinking? Did he realize that she was opening her eyes, maybe for the first time, to the fact that this Bostonian family, with their hand-made pottery and corny family quotes, might know something her in-town, young, with-it family hadn’t yet figured out?

She watched Yonah as he passed his father a dry towel, and fought with his mother over scrubbing the big pot, with Yonah winning, while Golda reluctantly pulled out a kitchen chair and rested.

Inexplicably, tears sprang to her eyes.

Yonah came over and handed her a dish of compote. “Ken or lo?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She looked down at the bowl of cold apple mush. “Ken,” she said, suddenly feeling like trying anything new. “Ken, ken, ken.”

Estee was quiet on the ride home.

Yonah didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she ever enjoyed herself at his parents’ home. He thought she did, but her own world was so different from his older parents, sometimes, he thought she got it, that she understood how wonderful they were, and other times… he just didn’t know.

“Your parents have something special,” Estee said suddenly, her voice high and clear in the quiet car.

He nodded. “Yup. I’m happy they moved nearby.”

“Me too.”

Well, color him flabbergasted.  He felt a grin slide onto his face.

“They really like each other,” Estee said, her voice light.

He laughed. “Yup. Sometimes more than they like me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Yonah thought about this. “I guess not. I can be pretty annoying.”

Estee cracked up. “Nawww. But they like you, too, don’t worry. A lot. Like a weird amount.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She laughed again. And then, suddenly, she was crying.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Estee?”

“My mother… my mother is suddenly avoiding me, Yonah. And I know you hate her and think she’s crazy, but I have no idea if I did something wrong or if it’s just out of sight, out of mind, or if this is about Avigail’s engagement, but I feel so lost, like I’m missing a piece of myself.”

Yonah watched his wife cry. Well, this was a dilemma. Because, yeah, he really wasn’t a huge fan of his mother-in-law. At least not of how she’d been third-wheeling in their marriage. Now that she’d pulled back, he felt free. Normal.

But his wife was in pain.

“I’m so sorry, Est. That’s so hard. You don’t deserve that at all.”

And he left it at that. There would be time later for the rest of it, for the hard truth of how they were better off as a couple without Estee’s mom’s involvement. But right now, he’d said all that he’d needed to.

He restarted the car and drove them back to their little home.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1046)