Only one woman was making eye contact, everyone else averted their gaze. A weight laid itself on my chest and settled there

"What are you wearing?” Shifra asked. I shrugged, switched the phone to my left ear, and peered into my closet.

“Dunno, a sweater, black skirt. What else do you wear to a Melaveh Malkah?”

“No,” Shifra said firmly. “Remember that dress you wore to Leah’s Sunday brunch sheva brachos? Wear that.”

“So fancy?”

“With the necklace I lent you. I promise you’ll thank me.”

“I’m trusting you, Shifra, but it seems a bit much.”

“Remember, you called me.”

I sighed. I never called anyone, ever, for clothing advice. But I’d never been a rebbetzin before. I shuffled through my closet and pulled out the navy dress I hadn’t worn since Leah married.

“Wait, have you practiced your speech in a mirror? Taped and reviewed yourself?”

“No, was I supposed to? I read it a few times, it’s nice.”

“Chana, it’s a little too late for this, but I’m nervous for you.”

“Enough. Ales iz git. It’s not like I had time to practice anyway. Well, thanks for the help. Bye.” I hung up and huffed. Did I really have to change out of my black shell staple? I wanted to wear what felt right to me, but I doubted my gut. I smiled at myself in the mirror, my reflection smiled back.

“They want to like you, you want to like them. It’s all good,” I told myself.

I just needed to make it through the night.