After watching Tzippy pace the living room for a quarter of an hour, I start to feel nervous myself. I put my phone down — no, Rus and Shiri have not reached out since midwinter vacation — and heave myself off the couch. “Tzippy, if you don’t sit down, we are going to be extra-embarrassing when he comes.”

Tzviki smirks from the sefer he has open, Chunah snickers. “We still have those pictures from your bandana phase, right?”

I choke on the sip of water I’ve just taken; it goes down the wrong pipe and Sari has to whack me on the back.

“I forgot about that,” I gasp between coughs. “Ohmigosh, you were such a neb.”

Tzippy grins despite the nerves. “I was adorable. If any of you even think of pulling out old pictures of me, you will regret the day you were born. I say this with love.”

We’re all still laughing when Mommy pokes her head in, shrieks, “He’s here!” and runs back out.

I walk over to Tzippy and squeeze her hand, kindly saying nothing about how sweaty it is. She gives me a weak smile. I brush a piece of hair out of her face and straighten the pendant on her necklace. She looks stunning, her dress is a Blue Milan masterpiece and it helps that her face is glowing.

She makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper and then Abba is knocking on the living room door frame saying loudly, “Why don’t you come in here?” and a red-faced Yechiel is ushered into the room.

The first thing I think when I see my future brother-in-law is “tall.” The guy is over six feet, broad, with a nice face. The next thing I think is “nerdy.” His suit is outdated, his hat brim is too wide, and his shoes look like they’re from 2008.

I raise my eyebrows but nobody else seems to notice. Normally confident Tzviki is fluttering around, ears pink with embarrassment, voice higher-pitched than usual, and I think he’s giggling. Sari and I shared amused looks as Tzippy and Yechiel settle on the couch, schmoozing. Everyone clusters around them, talking and laughing and being extra polite. Simchi stands in the corner shyly, clutching his Monster truck.

Yechiel looks up, notices him, and looks at Tzippy. She nods, encouragingly, and he lifts a hand.

Hello, he signs.

Hi, Simchi signs back.

My name is Yechiel. His movements are awkward, but Tzippy is looking at him like he’s just cured the common cold and Mommy is wiping away a tear.

It’s sweet, that’s for sure, but this whole thing annoys me.

They’re going to get engaged really, really soon and the whole Stonesworth is going to be talking about the Bricks and how they made a shidduch with a complicated family. They’ll probably blame it on Simchi or something, as if a sibling with hearing loss is a major minus on a shidduch résumé.

I don’t even realize I’m biting my lip until Sari pokes me.

“You okay?” she whispers. I nod and look at Yechiel; Simchi is now safely on his lap as he laughs with Tzippy.

Mommy is still tearing up, Abba, Tzviki and Chunah keep nodding at each other, like they are personally responsible for Yechiel being a great human being, and I am still annoyed.

(Excerpted from Teen Pages, Issue 748)