“I think we’re going to tell him we’re ending it, not her. Then his image is intact, his self-respect is where it should be. He’ll get over it quickly, I’ll have a date set up for him by this Motzaei Shabbos.”

“N

ot much left unsaid in that house,” mused Heshy as he hung up the phone with Brachie Bauer. This was a fairly easy shidduch, an open-and-shut-case, he liked to call it, and it would be number 78 for the busy shadchan: Ushy Bauer and Aviva Sandberger neatly penciled in on the large white poster he kept in the basement, a running list of his successes.

For the Bauers, this was their first child in shidduchim; every detail was new and fascinating. From the moment Ushy had disembarked at Kennedy on Rosh Chodesh Nisan (That’s our Ushy, Brachie had said proudly, he refused to come home before Rosh Chodesh, even though the Goodman boy is already home a week), Brachie had been crowing about her son, her metzuyan, her baal middos, product of the best yeshivos (he went to the real Brisk!).

The perfect boy, and the shadchan hadn’t wasted any time. Brachie needed three days to make him over, but as soon as Ushy was ready, Heshy had him walking up the impressive front steps of the Sandberger home.

Aviva Sandberger was the girl of Brachie Bauer’s dreams — not life-of-the-party but not a wallflower either, dresses well but still tzniyusdig, assertive but flexible, intelligent but not brainy, and of course, the ever-popular frum but normal. Sure, she needed reassurance — the girl was 21 — but Heshy’s assertion that “21 is the new 18” seemed to calm her.

After just one date, Heshy flashed a thumbs-up to his wife Hindy. “This one will go all the way,” he said confidently. Things progressed; from Diet Coke in the lounge, moving on to desserts, even bowling and Build-A-Bear (What should we call it? There was a long silence, and then Ushy suggested “Bear?”).

Four weeks in, Brachie Bauer started to push the shadchan about a vort. (I think the Sandbergers are our sort of people, they seem to be, and things don’t just happen, they need to be planned. Maybe I should just pick up a phone and call Sari Sandberger directly, just so we can coordinate? Heshy said he didn’t know about that, that he thought she should wait a bit. The girl needed more time.)

They went out again, and then again. Heshy was still confident, but he took the precaution of calling the Sandberger girl and telling her that too much time isn’t always a good thing.

She agreed, she said. After the next date she said no to the shidduch. It was over.

***

It was nine fifteen in the morning when Heshy called Mrs. Bauer and told her that Aviva Sandberger had said no, that this happened sometimes, and — in the same sentence — that Elman from the carpets had an amazing daughter, she should look into it.

Brachie Bauer hung up and called her sister, sobbing. She told her sister that everyone knew that Mrs. Sandberger’s parents were misers and who did they think they were anyhow? Then she switched to bitachon mode, sermonizing about how Hashem makes shidduchim and we’re just along for the ride. Then she switched gears again. This was not what she needed, not at all, not when she had ordered a new suit for her husband and her mother was in bed with pneumonia.

Then she called Chaim home from the office — yes, it’s an emergency — and put a cold washcloth over her eyes to hide the fact that she’d been crying, but then let it slip off so he could see she’d been crying.

***

Chaim and Brachie had started their parenting career in the early 1990s, when low self-esteem was the cause of all ills, from unruly behavior to poor driving habits to smoking. “There is no way that we can tell him she said no.” Brachie was adamant. “It will destroy him, poor boy.”

Chaim nodded, eager to get back to the office. “Yes, and this his first shidduch experience, it can scar him. He’ll start to see himself the way she sees him, and it can really affect him negatively.”

Brachie loved the scar thing. “Absolutely, Chaim, this whole thing can really cause him to scar, and we need to step in here, as parents.”

Chaim stole a glance at the small digital clock on the oven. He could still make it back to the office for his eleven o’clock. “What do you suggest we do? We need to tell him something!”

“I think,” Brachie looked at him craftily, “I think we’re going to tell him we’re ending it, not her. Then his image is intact, his self-respect is where it should be. He’ll get over it quickly, I’ll have a date set up for him by this Motzaei Shabbos.”

“Are you sure?” Chaim was doubtful, but he needed to get back. “Maybe think about it? Speak to a rav first? I don’t know, Brachie … ” He slid into his jacket and walked towards the door. “Hatzlachah, have a great day either way.”

***

Heshy wasn’t sure why Mrs. Bauer was so anxious to know if he’d told Ushy directly. When he said he hadn’t, she asked him to let her handle it. “Sure,” he said, “he’ll be upset and it will be good for him to have you there, to comfort him.”

She explained that she was going to tell him what she felt was best for him to hear. “I’ll tell him it’s over, but that it was our decision, me and my husband.”

Heshy disagreed, but she said something about daas Torah and her husband and a mother’s instincts and hung up.