“I couldn’t be the golden boy they dreamed of. There was no way I could compete with him, he was too perfect"

On his way home, still trying to formulate how to break the news to Raizele, Yanky remembered that today was Tuesday. That meant Raizele would be at her jewelry-making class. Instead of sitting and listening to him, she’d be spending the next hour with her sister at the community center in Romema, stringing crystal beads on gold-filled wire.

“Shalom, Abba, Ima went out to her class!” Bentzi greeted him, cutting off his last hope that the class had been canceled, or something like that. “She said to tell you there’s hot chocolate pudding waiting for you in the milchig pan.”

“Say that again,” said Eliyahu, grinning.

“I said there’s chocolate pundig waiting for Abba in the milchig pan,” the little boy repeated. “What’s so funny about that?”

“It’s funny that you’re so cute,” Yanky said, patting his head.

“I wanted to eat it all up,” Bentzi informed him, “but Ima said, ‘No, we have to save some pundig for Abba.’ I said, ‘But Abbas always let their kids have,’ but she still wouldn’t let me.”

“Go to bed now, motek. You’re a delicious boy.”

“Okay,” said Bentzi, yawning. “Good night.”

Yanky opened the bread drawer, took out three slices, and looked in the fridge for something to spread on them. He heard light footsteps behind him. Eliyahu, his eldest, was still up.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Eliyahu?”

“ ’Cause I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, so ask me something.” And then go to bed already, because I really don’t feel like talking.

“Abba, are you… not a chassid anymore?”

“Wha… who told you that? Mah pitom?”

“Well, because you don’t always come to shuleshides in the beis medrash, and my friends said they think you’re not a chassid anymore.”