When she was completely confident that Esther’s eyes were on the game Ahuva dared to glance at her watch. Not even three? She held back her groan then stole a quick glance at Esther still focused on the game board eyes intent on her card tongue tight between her teeth.

Just move the dumb piece! Ahuva didn’t say. Instead she smiled brightly. “You got a six Esther? You’re so lucky! I keep getting twos! Let me know when it’s my turn!”

Two rounds later Ahuva had had enough. “Want to play Spot It Esther? Or Banana Split?”

Esther shrugged. “I like Sorry.”

Figures Ahuva thought. And if she were being fair it was the fast pace of those games that appealed to her and made them feel like homework to Esther. She sat back resigned. At least Sorry lent itself to daydreaming.

Sari clattered down the stairs. “Hi Ma! Can I go?”

Unwittingly Ahuva looked at the silent door then at her watch. Three thirty. “So soon? Bnos isn’t until four.” Don’t leave us! she didn’t say.

“Yeah but Leah said that if we come early we can see her nephew — he’s by her for Shabbos! And Shiffy and me need to pick up Rachelli because she also wants to see the baby and—”

Ahuva bit her lip. She had no reason to say no it was just... “Yes you can go ” she said quickly before she could say— before she could think anything else.

Sari’s face lit up. “Thanks so much Ma!” She turned back. “Uh Esther? Do you want to come? We’re going to Leah first to see her nephew but after that we’re going to Bnos.”

Esther shook her head a firm no her eyes never leaving the game board.

Ahuva’s heart twisted. Was it with pride at Sari’s offer or pain for Esther’s refusal? She didn’t know. Was Esther worried about being a third wheel or loath to walk with her younger sister? Or maybe Ahuva smiled wryly maybe Esther really did just love Sorry. It was so hard to tell.

Besides there was still plenty of time. Dina and Malky walked to Bnos together every week and Malky lived practically next door and this week she’d swallowed her pride and said something to Perel Markowitz about how Esther hated walking alone and so hopefully soon the girls would knock and—

“Ma!” Esther’s voice broke into her thoughts. “It’s your turn for forever!”

Ahuva felt bad really she did but even the most patient of mothers had her limits and five rounds of Sorry was a reasonable one. She’d declared a half-hour moratorium on games and was curled up with a magazine. Esther was lazing on the couch a book upside down on her lap — Ahuva supposed that it wasn’t fair to expect her to read it — and the little ones were competing over their Magna-Tile towers.

“Ma!” Dovi called. “Someone’s knocking!”

Ahuva tensed then looked at her watch. Three fifty. She took a deep breath. “I’ll get it!” She flung open the door then stared with dismay at Rachelli Ehrenreich.

“Hi Mrs. Flamm! Can you tell Sari that I came to get her for Bnos?”

“Oh she left already. I thought she was going to pick you up.”

“She did? Oh right we wanted to see Leah’s baby! But we ate by the Kohns and just got back and… uch! I wanted to see the baby Leah says he’s heaven!”

Ahuva forced a smile. “I’m sure he is. I’m sorry they missed you.”

“Maybe I’ll go back with Leah after Bnos. Thanks anyway Mrs. Flamm! Good Shabbos!”

Ahuva stayed by the door until Rachelli’s pink sweater had rounded the corner. She left her magazine on the coffee table and settled back onto the recliner.

4:00. There’s still time, she thought. Maybe the girls are running late — it’s not like Bnos is school, for goodness’ sake, there’s no attendance! — and the shul was so close.

4:12. Daniel left for Minchah and Avos U’banim with the boys, Yehuda having unearthed his jacket from underneath the couch and Nati finally persuaded to wear shoes instead of Crocs .

Ahuva stood up unwillingly. Maybe… Bnos didn’t end till 5:30. Surely some girls went late. She walked over to the window and adjusted the drapery. Her block was empty, except for Masha, walking arm-in-arm with her mother-in-law. Masha smiled and waved at Ahuva. Ahuva forced herself to return the gesture.

She returned to the recliner. Esther was rhythmically kicking the couch. “Not with your shoes, Esther,” she said automatically, then bit her tongue. Really, what did it matter?

“This is dumb,” Esther said sullenly. “All our games are dumb. All our books are dumb. This whole house is dumb. Dumb dumb dumb!” She punctuated each dumb with a kick, and for the umpteenth time, Ahuva wondered just what was going on behind Esther’s shuttered eyes.

“Oooh, you know what?” Ahuva said brightly. “We haven’t played Connect Four in forever! I bet I’ll cream you!”

Those must have been the right words, because Esther was already moving toward the games cabinet. “No way! I always win Connect Four, you know that!”

As Esther’s black piece bounced down into place beside its three compatriots, and Esther declared victory, Ahuva smiled so broadly that she felt like her face would shatter. Esther smiled, too, but she looked subdued.

“Are you tired, sheifeleh? The seudah finished so late last night.”

Esther staunchly denied fatigue and pressed for another round. Ahuva agreed, but as she gathered the pieces, she wondered if either of them were really having fun.

By 4:42, Ahuva’s nerves were fraying. Dovi and Batsheva had long stopped building and switched to the ever-popular pastime of flinging magnetic projectiles at each other’s heads, the baby was whimpering, and, she reasoned, there was only so much Connect Four one person could take before she would start throwing the tokens across the room.

“Okay,” Ahuva said firmly, “I’m going to put the baby in for a nap. Reading time!”

“I can’t find my library book!”

“All our books are so dumb!”

“Batsheva took my book before and she didn’t ask and now it’s lost and—”

“I. Don’t. Care. Pick any book, read it, or look at the pictures. Or a magazine.”

“But—”

“Or if you really don’t want to read, you can clean up the living room. I’m going upstairs now, and please don’t knock on my door or the baby will never fall asleep.”

From the top of the stairs, Ahuva noted with relief that the kids had all already selected books. Dovi was shuckeling over his picture book, in an apparent attempt to convince her that he was reading so hard there was no way he could be expected to clean.

Twenty minutes later, Ahuva returned, her tangled nerves somewhat smoothed.

“I’m so proud of all of you. Everyone is reading so nicely. Who wants a Shabbos treat?” Ahuva handed out the fruit snacks and returned to her magazine, every now and then glancing over at the kids who were engrossed in their debate over the comparative merits of purple versus yellow fruit snacks. She’d had plenty of time to think in the half-dark calm of her room, her baby warm in her arms, and now everything was somehow more manageable.

Esther never went to Bnos, and probably the girls in her class assumed she didn’t enjoy it. Not everyone went, she knew. After Bnos, the girls often congregated at one house or another for Shalosh Seudos. A home setting would probably be more comfortable for Esther, anyway. Dina and Malky would probably knock on the door any minute, ask Esther to come along to a Shalosh Seudos.

Ahuva looked at her watch. 5:27. But the girls wouldn’t leave right away, and shul was a seven-minute walk, and the girls probably walked slowly…

5:38. Ahuva stood and adjusted the curtains, knowing that she was being ridiculous. It was much too soon. By now the sidewalks were fuller, lined with men hurrying to shul and young mothers strolling with their carriages.

At 5:46, the door slammed. Ahuva jolted.

“I’m not staying for Minchah,” Nati complained. “The boys in shul are mean and they push and they think that just because they’re in fourth grade—”

“It’s fine, Nati,” Ahuva said, resigned. “Did you finish learning with Tatty? Did you get ices?”

“We had fruit snacks,” Dovi interjected. “A whole bag!”

Ahuva rolled her eyes. “Yes, Nati, you can have, too.”

5:54. Ahuva slammed her magazine on the table. All the magazines in this house are dumb dumb dumb! she couldn’t help but think, and despite herself, she smiled. She walked over to the window and stared hard at a pair of sweaters halfway down the block. Was the pale-green one Malky? She watched as the two sweaters drew closer, then slowed as they approached the Markowitzes. Farther down the block, the Schwartzman girl and the Mandel girl were pushing Chananya in his stroller. Quickly, she drew the curtains shut.

“Esther, I’m going to start setting up, okay? Come help me set the table.”

Esther got up slowly, scowling. “It’s not fair! Every week I set the table! Why me?”

She’s right, Ahuva thought. She does set the table, every week, and she almost started crying. Aloud, though, she only said, “Esther, we talk to a mother with respect, okay? Just put out the plates and I’ll do the rest.”

Ahuva busied herself in the kitchen, far from the kids and the Clics and the window. She put the salads into bowls, chopped melon, and prepared tuna.

6:06. She couldn’t stop thinking about Chananya in his stroller, and about her sister-in-law Yocheved, who had chesed girls dutifully coming by every Shabbos afternoon, taking Shevy for long walks in her wheelchair. Of course that wasn’t what she wanted, of course Chananya’s Down syndrome wasn’t easy, and of course she was so grateful for Esther’s health, and besides, she didn’t want pity anyway, did she?

She just wanted Esther to have a friend.

Ahuva slammed the refrigerator door. Maybe if the girls had stopped off somewhere on their way to Shalosh Seudos, they’d stop over here and just see if Esther— Ahuva shook her head quickly to clear it. Where was Sari, anyway? At her age, she really should be helping with Shalosh Seudos, especially after prancing out so early. And she knew that she wasn’t allowed to go to a friend without asking. They really should get better about enforcing those things, then maybe the kids would have a little more respect, for goodness’ sake, not to mention it was almost shkiah, and where was Daniel anyway? Ahuva chopped the pickles with a ferocity that surprised her.

6:12. Ahuva walked into the living room and surveyed the scene grimly. The Magna-Tiles were all over the floor, surrounded by books and fruit snacks.

“Nati!” she snapped. “I told you to eat in the kitchen! Now pick up every last fruit snack and put them in the garbage, because if they stain the couch I will not be happy, and I will not be able to give you nosh anymore. Dovi, put the Magna-Tiles back now! No, no more building! Esther, pick up your book, it’s going to get ripped and it’s not ours.”

She walked over to the window and reached out to pull the curtain aside, then dropped her hand.

“Thanks for putting out the plates, Esther. Do you want me to make taco salad? You said last week that it’s your favorite, right?”

In the kitchen, Ahuva crushed taco chips and diced peppers and bit her lip. It was 6:18. So what, she thought, so what? Esther was thriving, everyone said so, reading almost on grade level, nearly fully mainstreamed, socially appropriate if not particularly charismatic… so what. Shabbos afternoons were hard on everyone, but Esther had always been a homebody anyway, and they’d come so far from those horrible early days when she was diagnosed, from that horrible geneticist’s report, from that first physician’s pessimistic predictions…. They had come so far, and Esther was doing so well, and she would keep doing so well, she would, they would worry about high school and shidduchim and life as they came, this was ridiculous.

“Moooommy!” Batsheva appeared in the kitchen. “Dovi bit me!”

“Did not!”

“Yes-huh! Look!”

“You started it! Mommy, Batsheva broke my Magna-Tiles train!”

“Mommy said to clean up!”

From upstairs, Ahuva heard the baby wail. She closed her eyes.

The front door opened, and Ahuva nearly cried with relief. Daniel appeared in the kitchen. It was 6:22.

“Sorry, Huv, but if Nati had stayed I think Rav Lieber would have thrown us both out.”

“It’s fine,” Ahuva muttered. “Trust me, he was not the problem. Not the only problem, at least. Can you set the silverware?”

“Sure. Where’s Sari?”

“Still not back, Daniel. We really should do something about her. I don’t know where she got the idea that this place is a free-for-all, but it’s really not okay and not good chinuch and… oh, I don’t know.”

Daniel sighed. “I’ll call the kids in.”

6:28. Ahuva swallowed hard. They had 15 minutes.

The kids trooped into the kitchen and Ahuva went into automatic mode, directing traffic and cups of water and towels.

Daniel was at her side. “Sari’s still not back, but we really can’t wait, not if the kids already washed.”

“So don’t. She’ll manage with matzah. She’s a big girl, she knows what time shkiah is.”

Ahuva slid into her seat and kept her eyes on Daniel as he recited hamotzi and passed out the challah, studiously avoiding Esther’s gaze. It was 6:35, really almost shkiah, and then it would be dark, but really, Esther was fine. She probably would hate eating out, anyway.

“Pass the tuna!”

“Eww, Mommy, why didn’t you make egg salad? You said!”

“Hey, Sari’s here! Finally! Miss Slowpoke! Where were you?!”

Sari flew in, face flushed, amid a flurry of excuses about Leah’s new nephew’s nap and Rachelli’s sister’s vort pictures and they didn’t realize what time it was and then—

“Stop talking, Sari! Run and wash! Tatty already made hamotzi!”

“She can’t wash, stupid! It’s too late!”

“No, it’s not dark yet, I think she still can, Sari, hurry!”

Ahuva looked at her watch. 6:46.

From the corner of her eye, Ahuva saw Esther chewing stolidly on her challah.

It was too late.

(Originally featured in Family First Issue 551)