Behaving for Yehudis is failing. It was giving up too much of what makes me, well, me

T

here was a crash and choruses of “Mazel tov!” I whirled around. The waiter carrying the wine decanters had lost his balance and dropped one. Shattered glass littered the floor. I mumbled a mazel tov under my breath and watched him flounder. He needed help.

Everyone seemed busy or distracted. You know what they say, “B’makom she’ein ish — be an ishah.” I pushed my seat back and walked to the kitchen, grabbed a broom and shovel, and returned to the scene of the crime. The waiter was crouched, trying to pick up the biggest pieces.

I held out my broom. “Need a hand?” I started sweeping.

The waiter offered a sheepish smile and a genuine “Gracias.” I smiled back.

Menachem Schloss walked to the podium and klopped lightly. I looked around the room. All eyes were front and center. Was he that interesting? I observed his posture and mannerisms, wondering how Cliff would rank him as a public speaker.

He started talking, introducing the next speaker, his shver. Back at my table, all eyes were still on Mr. Schloss, except for Avrumi, who I could tell was mentally rehearsing his speech. I swept the glass; it made scraping noises across the floor.

A few eyes turned to stare at me, broom in hand. Yehudis was one of them. Her eyes went huge then tiny. It would be comical if it weren’t scary.

I read her loud and clear. Helping the waiter was not my job. It made her look bad or something. Waiter, Yehudis, waiter, Yehudis. Whom should I care about more? You can’t win, Chana.

Hashem saved me from my dilemma when another waiter came to help. I handed off my broom and scurried back to my seat, just as Yehudis’s father stood up to speak. Phew.

My head automatically turned to Yehudis, making sure she was satisfied, but something in me balked. Behaving for Yehudis is failing. It was giving up too much of what makes me, well, me. I tried focusing on what Yehudis’s father was saying, but it literally went in one ear out the next. Was he boring? Could I not focus? I wasn’t sure.

Tzvi was playing with the spoon in the mustard dish. I should stop him, but that might cause a bigger ruckus. Remember, Chana, you can’t win today.