Between unpacking groceries and sorting laundry, I managed to put up two out of three pots of soup in that hour. Freezers should be well stocked with soup at all times, Ma had ruled, and I made sure they were, even if my heart sank every time I packed those one-quart containers away. Maybe I was ultra-sensitive to freezer burn.

On my way out the door, I texted Chanoch to please turn the flames off when he came home for lunch.

Uh… lunch? I zipped back inside, sliced an avocado and vegetables, blended frozen strawberries with yogurt and slid everything into the fridge. Consider that done.

Five minutes later, I pulled up in front of The House.

“Taaaaaaammy!!”

Instinctively, my hands flew up to my cheeks.

“Isn’t it a perfect day for whitewashing fences?”

Ma must’ve been under a spell when she bought a house next door to Nava. I eyed my aunt incredulously. She was wearing a green-and-white, tie-dyed maxi dress and looked like a watermelon. It was a perfect day for tackling lists, if she would kindly move aside to let me pass.

“There’s nothing like giving a fence a fresh white coat. It gives the whole house a facelift. Besides, it’s amazing for a creative mind. Sort of forces you to blot everything out and focus on pure nothingness. Mind lending a hand, sweetie? If you could fetch a can of paint for me from the shed in the back, I’ll go change into work clothes meanwhile.”

“Uh, sure.”

Tentatively, I followed her into the house. No matter how many times I’d been in her house, I always slowed my step when I entered. This time I literally stopped short.

“You—oh, my goodness, Nava! What is this?”

What had once been a wall separating the foyer from the living room was now a floor-to-ceiling aquarium.

Nava grinned. “Like it?”

“It’s… wow. So… interesting.”

I stared at the rainbow of fish swimming around in the enormous tank. This was a piece of art, rustic props and shrubbery strategically installed all around. For a bizarre minute I had an urge to shred my to-do list to bits and press my nose against the glass and just stare at the fish, suck in the beauty.

“They have names, all of them. Helps me connect, you know, develop a relationship with them. They recognize me.”

And she was my mother’s sister, never forget.

“Not your mother’s type of thing,” Nava chuckled.

I gulped. Did this woman read minds? I should practice hypnosis on her.

I passed the kitchen and greenhouse on my way to the backyard, daring myself to inhale the shock of sharp smells that clung to the air. When I brought the can out to the front, Nava gripped my arms.

“Put on this apron and take a brush. It’ll do you a world of good, you’ll see.”

“I’d love to, but I have to hurry, really. My father’s waiting for me.”

“You’re always hurrying, darling. Relax, nothing will happen. It doesn’t say anywhere in the Torah that bochurim’s shirts must be crisply starched. But of course, your mother never agreed with me on that one.”

This woman was crazy. I had to get away quickly.

My cell phone rang. It was my father. “I’m here, Tatty, coming right in,” I said.

Nava grabbed the phone out of my hand. “Come outside, Reuven. Get some sunshine. It’s a stunning day.”

One more minute and I was going to snap. But my father actually came outside, and what choice did I have but to dip a brush into the can of paint and start on Nava’s fence?

“What do you think about the Regency, Tammy?” my father asked. “I never saw the place after they redecorated, but I hear it’s beautiful.”

“It’s nice, but very small. Too small for our family, I think.”

Paint dripped sloppily over the grass. Grimly, I glanced at Nava. Her hot pink lips were spread in a serene smile as she washed perfect strokes over the wooden posts.

“Why don’t you guys let me arrange Yaakov’s bar mitzvah? I have plenty of experience.”

Oh, big time, she had experience. Her sons’ bar mitzvahs were famous town carnivals.

“So sweet of you, Nava, but I’m actually excited to do this. He’s my brother, after all.”

“And my nephew. You’ll have your own share of bar mitzvahs to host, b’ezras Hashem.”

I was almost positive Nava winked when she said that. There was no way in the world she could suspect anything, but I turned away quickly so she wouldn’t notice my face flushing. I hadn’t even shared my news with my father yet. Fiercely, I slapped paint over another post.

“Not so hard, dear. Gentle strokes. Like this.”

I grimaced and forced my hand to relax. Up, down, up, down. The sun slipped out from behind a cloud, warming my back. We worked quietly for a few minutes, dip and swish, dip and swish. The fence seemed to be waking up from a dull sleep. Pure nothingness.

“I meant to tell you,” Nava said suddenly, taking a step back to inspect our progress, “I took Shira to buy shoes this morning. Her shoes were torn. You realized?”

“Oh,” I muttered. “I was going to take her in the afternoon. Uh, thank you.”

Silently, I pledged not to look at Shira’s feet for the foreseeable future. I didn’t want to think what kind of shoes Nava had talked her into buying. Still, this was one errand off my list.

*

I will brush my teeth. I will squeeze toothpaste onto a toothbrush and brush my teeth. I will do it. I won’t gag, I’ll just do it quickly and—

Diiiing.

I dropped the toothbrush and ran to the intercom. “Who is it?”

It was UPS and they needed a signature. Wonderful. Was I seriously expected to run down two flights of stairs to scrawl illegible initials on an ePad? Huffing, I took the box from the guy. What in the—

Toothpicks!

A whole case!

Before I could mull over the anonymous benefactor and decide if this was a gift or a nasty trick, my mind was in wonderland. Skyscrapers. I would build skyscrapers, a whole city. And miniature cars on wide streets. My fingers tingled. I could practically smell the wood glue, feel the splinters on my skin.

On the gift receipt, I found Chanoch’s message, how I was the perfect “pick” and how excited he was that we were starting to “build” our home together. Chuckling at his puns, I hardly felt the weight of the box as I sprinted upstairs with a delightful surge of energy. In fact, the sickening nausea that had been camping in my esophagus for weeks all but vanished as I plunked the box down and ripped it open. Toothpicks, thousands and thousands of them. I skipped to the kitchen to fetch glue and my mini hammer, and — oh — the kitchen.

Pots, papers, and a million random stuff greeted me scornfully. When had this happened? The kitchen was a mess. The whole house was a mess.

Suddenly my mother was yelling. “This place looks like it was hit by a flying saucer, and you sit and play with toothpicks? The world could turn over and you’d never realize because you’re too busy building towers. How will you ever run a house?”

Shame brought the nausea reeling back. I ran to the bathroom and retched and retched, until I was retching bile. By the time I was done, my fingers were limp. I dragged myself back to the box in the hallway and kicked it, all the way to the coat closet. There. Out of sight. Then, just as I sank into the couch and settled down for a good cry, my father called.

“I gave Ateres Malka a deposit, so that’s taken care of.”

I nodded into the phone, as though my father could see me. If I dared utter a word I would start retching all over again.

“So now we need to meet with the caterer to plan the menu. I made an appointment for six o’clock today. That should work for you, right?”

Water. Maybe a sip of water would help. I heaved myself up from the couch and went to the kitchen to drink.

Rrrr… much worse. I swallowed, once, twice, three times. “Not sure,” I mumbled. “Could I confirm later?” My voice was garbled. I had to hang up quickly.

“Oy, you don’t sound good. Maybe take a day off from work.”

I was taking off left and right. At the rate I was going, I would get fired any day now.

And if I did? Did it matter? My whole life was out of control and I didn’t want to think what was happening over at The House. I hardly visited these days. The most I did was send over some food on my good days, if I could stand over a pot without passing out.

Five days and counting since I’d touched a hamper — mine or Ma’s. I would go over tonight, I had to. How did Shira manage bath time on her own? She was only nine years old. And who helped her with long division these days? This was legal neglect.

I gave the coat closet a wide berth as I stumbled to my room. Laundry and baths and dinner sank between the folds of my fuzzy brain as I slipped under my covers. My mind wandered from salt baths to doctor appointments to toothpick towers and sparkling white fences, and then at last, pure nothingness.

*

I woke up feeling so good on Wednesday, I wanted to schedule an emergency appointment with my OB to make sure everything was all right. My boss’s brows scuttled up to his hairline when I strolled into the office at 8:55. I smiled politely, like this was something I pulled off every day, then got to work.

After addressing all my work e-mails, I logged into Gmail and dashed off a message to my father. Hi, Ta! I’m available to meet with you and the caterer today on my lunch break, around 1ish. Wanna set up a time?

I shuddered when I read his response. No need. Nava took care of that already. Don’t worry, everything’s under control.

Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so peachy anymore. I lumbered my way through aged account discrepancies and bank recs in slow motion until Chanoch called.

“Not coming home for lunch?” he asked.

“Not today. I need to go to The House. Laundry to the ceiling. I haven’t washed anyone’s linen in over three weeks.”

Chanoch sighed. “You can’t do this, Tam. You’re killing yourself.”

“I’m actually feeling pretty okay today.”

“That’s great. So come home and have lunch. These cheese blintzes are heaven. I don’t know how you managed to prepare them.”

For a moment I beamed, pride tingling in my heart. But then I cracked. “Right. Like I could sit with my feet up and eat blintzes when Shira’s failing math and Leah needs to get her tonsils removed. I didn’t shop with anyone for the bar mitzvah yet, you know? What’s everyone wearing? Who’s doing the girls’ hair? When am I going to get my sheitel done, and how in the world am I supposed to know what a bar mitzvah boy needs? I don’t know the first thing about hats.”

“Okay, okay, Tammy, listen. Except your own sheitel, none of this is your concern. I’ll shop with Yaakov. I know hats, been wearing them for years. And we’ll get people to help. Your grandmother, whatever. You have to step back, you have no choice. You’re in a different stage now.”

He didn’t get it. He really, seriously, didn’t get it. I breathed deeply. More nausea. Waves and waves and waves of nausea.

“It’s not whatever,” I said tightly. “If I don’t outfit the girls, you know who will do it.”

I heard Chanoch clear his throat. “Right. Nava will do it, and everyone will survive.”

Survive, ha. As though this was about survival. Just the thought of Nava shopping with the girls made me gag. But how should Chanoch understand? Go explain what fine taste Ma had been famous for, compared to her sister’s… flamboyance, if you could call that taste at all. Ma would never have trusted Nava to buy a pair of socks.

Chanoch was going on, offering a slew of practical solutions until I couldn’t listen to another word. I hung up with some excuse and lay my head down on my desk.

Ma! If only I could talk to her. Surely, she would tell me that this was how men were — always quick with answers and unsolicited advice. And it wasn’t his fault, I knew it wasn’t. I should be grateful that he put up with me and my messed-up life so graciously. It was just…

I couldn’t let Nava shop with the girls. A million times no!

My lunch break was a mad race to The House. By the time I was done, my head was spinning, but I couldn’t leave before watering the plants. Quickly, I filled the watering can, measured plant food, and trudged over to the living room.

One look at the plants, and my stomach sank. I placed the watering can down on the floor and collapsed into the sofa.

They were dead. All of them.

*

My father insisted that Chanoch and I move into The House for Shabbos. “And you’re not cooking a thing. I ordered everything, and you’re showing up like a guest.”

Grudgingly, simply because I had absolutely no strength left to argue, I agreed. It was a funny feeling to lie down for a nap Friday afternoon after work and then take a long, relaxed shower. When had I last done this? Not since before.

The House seemed pretty much under control when we arrived. The little kids were in the basement, playing, and Yerachmiel, Meir, and Yaakov were sampling cholent. But something looked suspicious. I walked up to the table.

“Your shirts,” I said. “Who pressed them?”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Yerachmiel asked. “No good? Nava did them. She came and fetched the pile, saying that starched shirts were Ma’s legacy, and we should honor it.”

My throat tightened. A favor from Nava, a legacy. Could there be anything more sadly ironic?

“Oh, and you gotta see this. She brought this over — isn’t it cool?”

I stared at the strange contraption on the floor. It looked like an octopus — a Frisbee kind of thing holding together a bunch of flex pipes. “What on Earth’s surface is this?”

“A robot vacuum cleaner!” Yaakov cried. “Watch.” He bent over the machine and flicked it on. The octopus started crawling around, literally, pipes twisting, as it sucked dust off the floor.

I shook my head, incredulous.

“We have to return it,” Meir said. “She said she wants it back before Shabbos.”

I don’t know what in the world possessed me, but I jumped up and offered to go return it.

Know how most houses smell of bubbling chicken soup and potato kugel Erev Shabbos? Nava’s house didn’t. A pungent smell of G-d-knew-what hit me when she buzzed me in, and I sealed my lips tightly, lest I vomit.

But my attention was diverted from the smell as my gaze fell on the aquarium. There was something magical about the world of life behind the glass wall.

“Awesome, aren’t they?”

I turned. Nava was wearing a purple sequined jumper, perfumed with a strong scent of lemongrass.

“Don’t you go hypnotizing my darlings,” she said, wagging her finger.

“I haven’t practiced hypnosis in months.”

“More’s the pity.”

I shrugged. “This one’s gorgeous,” I said, pointing to an iridescent blue-and-yellow-striped fish.

“Dora,” Nava stated. “Because isn’t she simply adorable?”

I chuckled. Only Nava could consider fish adorable.

“I’m still playing around with the Shabbos feeding schedule. I need to find out if halachically I’m allowed to set up an automatic food dispenser.”

My uncle Mordy padded by in fuzzy slippers. “I told you, Nava, just pour in double portions before the zeman and they’ll be fine. Like mahn,” he laughed.

Nava winked at me. “Men. Solutions to everything, always quick with unsolicited advice.”

I glanced at her sharply, but Nava just smiled breezily. Quietly, I parked her octopus robot in a corner and headed to the door. Nava wished me a good Shabbos, and my brain flashed a command. You need to thank her for pressing the boys’ shirts.

I tried. I licked my lips, cleared my throat, read my brain’s teleprompts. No go. Instead I mumbled “Gut Shabbos” and trudged back to The House.

*

I never believed the claim that the nausea passes after three months, but it turned out to be true. By the time Chanoch parked our car in Ateres Malka’s parking lot on the big night, I was a different person. I felt like I was walking out of a time warp. The past few weeks were one big mush in my brain.

Emotionally, I wasn’t feeling all that amazing. It felt weird showing up to Yaakov’s bar mitzvah like this, so out of the loop. I had even sent in my wig to be set off the head, because I simply couldn’t fathom sitting on the sheitelmacher’s chair inhaling hairspray, and I had absolutely no idea who had styled my sisters’ hair. Never mind what they were wearing.

But if I thought my sensitivity to smells had lifted, I was mistaken.

“Chanoch.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you smell?”

Chanoch sniffed. “Yeah, something interesting. Garlic?”

“Also. Something more. I’m going to choke.”

“Ahem. We’ll find out soon enough. My, my, my… if it isn’t Prince Charming and the entire entourage. We’re going to have some fun tonight, Tam.”

“She’s mad. Completely mad. I’m having a heart attack.”

We stood at the entrance and watched as a set of white horses drew up to the hall, followed by a white and gold vintage carriage. Mordy and Nava brought up the rear in their Pontiac as my father and Yaakov piled out of the buggy. My father trained his eyes on the floor as he hurriedly walked off, while Yaakov beamed.

“Mad,” I whispered. “I don’t know where to hide.”

“Tammy, have a little fun. This isn’t your style, I know, but hey, it’s entertaining. Look, the photographer is having a blast.”

I looked. Yaakov was drowning in flashes, smile stretched like a rubber band across his face.

“And don’t forget, he’s a yasom. Let him enjoy this moment.”

Nava brushed by me suddenly, planting kisses on my cheeks with abandon. So much for my carefully applied makeup. I sized her up, hot pink chiffon dress the exact shade of her lips, a six-inch rhinestone belt hugging her waist.

“So what do you say to my little surprise?” She glowed like a lightbulb, hot pink and silver shimmering under the waning sun.

I couldn’t find my tongue, and that’s what I felt like telling her.

Nava nudged me. “Go get some shots with Chanoch.”

No. No, I couldn’t. This — we didn’t do this. But Chanoch caught my gaze and gave a tiny nod. I whispered Shir Hamaalos that nobody should pass until I was far away from those ridiculous props, and complied with the photographer’s orders like a puppy.

As soon as the torturous session was over, I forced Chanoch to join me in the hall, only to be hit by the repulsive aroma again. This was one incredible evening.

“Nava — a novelty,” Yerachmiel buzzed into my ear when he passed me in the lobby. I thought he was referring to the horse and buggy, but when I pulled open the door to the ballroom, I didn’t think anything anymore.

A jungle. The place looked like a jungle. The walls were lined with trees, literally, and at that point I wouldn’t have been shocked to see monkeys swinging from the branches. I practiced deep breathing techniques and tried self-talk. It wasn’t so bad. It was just — trees, right? Ma liked trees. Houseplants, anyway.

So why was my heart thrumming wildly and why was there a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach? Why was I starting to hope for a surprise blizzard that would keep all guests home? I thought back to the classy d?cor at Yerachmiel’s and Meir’s bar mitzvahs and fought back tears. This was the ultimate disgrace to Ma. I couldn’t breathe.

With all the portraits taken and the guests greeted and seated, I pulled up a chair next to Bubby. I didn’t touch any of the food, secretly suspecting that the caterer had only been minimally involved in the actual menu prep.

Yaakov stood up to deliver his speech. I knew my father had warned his friends not to interrupt with song, despite the tradition, and my heart fluttered as I stood at the mechitzah, watching my little brother at the podium.

His actual pshetl was short, but when Yaakov finished, he remained standing, gripping the mike.

“You all know I lost my mother this year,” he started.

There was pin-drop silence in the hall as everyone’s ears perked up.

“Whoever knew Ma knows what a special woman she was. I’m sad that she can’t be here with me on my special night.”

I don’t know how he wasn’t crying. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and sniffles punctuated the silence behind me. Yaakov continued talking about Ma, bringing up special memories and saying how he felt her presence even if she wasn’t physically with us. He said some beautiful things about Tatty, too, and gave him a brachah to find a nechamah and be zocheh to happiness and nachas. I never realized how mature my little brother was. My heart was a pool of sadness and love and pride all at once. Then he wrapped up with special blessings to his “aunt Nava, whom he could never thank enough, nevah” and to his “sister Tammy, who was the second-best mother in the world.”

Nava ran over and crushed me in a hug when he was done. Dazedly, I sat down again, the room spinning.

But when the main course was served, the magic burst. A screechy voice pierced through the hall, belting out a song that sounded eerily like “Yankee Doodle.” My eyes flew over to Nava, demanding an explanation, but Nava just offered a mysterious, glittery smile in return.

All around, I saw people exchange bemused glances as the singer took off with his performance. The bar mitzvah had turned into a circus.

Who is that loony man? I texted Chanoch frantically. Send him away!!

But Chanoch didn’t respond. He must have turned his phone off before the evening. The singing blared in my ears and I escaped to the bathroom before I had a public meltdown.

I could never forgive Nava. Heat flashed through my body and I cried for a long time before leaving the bathroom. Chanoch finally answered my text with a bunch of emoticons. I called him.

“Let’s go, Chanoch. I’m a mess.”

I must have sounded awful, because Chanoch didn’t argue, just met me outside and quietly walked me to the car. I knew he was waiting for me to say something, but I was quiet for the entire ride home.

At our doorstep, I paused.

“What’s this?”

“Looks like a plant to me. Read the card.”

I pulled a purple scented card out of the miniature tree and read the short note.

Mazel tov! May this simchah infuse light into your life, and may Ma’s memory fill your home with much blessing.

Nava

*

Insomnia, I discovered, wasn’t an exclusively old-age condition. At five to six, I banged my alarm clock off and bolted out of bed, deliberating between Motrin, Advil, and coffee.

I managed to avoid the dining room for ten whole minutes before I surrendered and crept in to face the big, bad monster.

The plant stood quietly in the corner near the sofa where Chanoch had deposited it the night before. The leaves drooped slightly in the fading dawn. I drew the shades. Wispy sunrays filtered in, forming a halo of dust motes around the little tree.

Surely Nava was up, donning sneakers for her morning power walk. With the tip of my index finger, I traced the veins on a leaf, my mind blank and screaming all at once.

Chanoch padded into the dining room with two cups of coffee.

“It’s a nice plant,” he said.

I didn’t move.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s… nice.”

“Right, but do you like it?”

“Did you like the horse and buggy last night?”

Chanoch opened his eyes wide. “Uh, shaychus?”

“I’m just asking.”

“Well…” He looked at me, trying to see where I was headed. Where was I headed?

“Well?”

“The truth? It was fun. Different, exciting. Yaakov loved it, obviously. Your father was shy. But we’re definitely going to have some remarkable pictures to show our kids.”

“Right.”

I caressed a leaf absently.

“My mother would never have done this. She was much more… conservative?”

Chanoch was quiet, waiting.

I swallowed.

“I need to call Nava.”

He nodded and placed a mug down on the table.

“I’ll see you later,” he said quietly.

With the cordless phone at my side, I sat down at the table and locked my hands around the coffee, inhaling the rising steam. I took a sip, then pushed the mug away. My palms were clammy as I dialed.

“Taaaaaaammy!!”

Automatically, I rubbed my cheek protectively. “Good morning, Nava. Did I wake you?”

Nava laughed. “The birds wake me every morning, sweetie. We sing Modeh Ani together. But don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret.”

She laughed again. I fidgeted.

“Wasn’t it a lovely affair last night? And oh, my goodness, Yaakov’s speech! I’m still choked up.”

I cleared my throat. “Th-thanks for the plant, Nava.” Swallow. “It means so much to me.”

“Oh, dear, do you like it? I chose something that’s so your mother’s taste, so you could hold onto something tangible from her, you know, sort of always feel her presence in your house.”

I blinked. “I’ll always feel her presence, wherever I am.”

“It’s a nice plant, isn’t it?”

The words I had fought all night to silence bubbled in my throat, and I wanted to scream. I hate it! I hate plants! I have no idea how to tend to them, and they’re just a clunky nuisance. And… and they’re so not me. They’re Ma, and she knew their language, but I don’t!

“You there, sweetie?”

I sniffled. “I’m here, Nava. I–it’s a nice plant, yes. Ma would have loved it.”

“I never thought plants were your type, honestly. Not houseplants, anyway. But neither are starched shirts.” She chuckled. I felt a chill in my bones and the unexpected urge to hug my aunt.

My gaze flitted over to the plant in the corner. I bit back a sigh.

“Nava?”

“Yes, dear?”

I chewed my lip. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Plans? Well, there’s my power walk now. Then breakfast — shakshouka. Ever tried it with lemon rind? Gives it a shocking tang. I love it. Then I have my wood-carving class.” She coughed. “Should we go return the plant?”

I trembled. “Yes, Nava,” I whispered.

Nava hummed, and I could see her twinkling smile as though she were sitting across the table.

“Come walk with me, Tammy. Nothing like the early morning to energize a day.”

Another glance at the plant, then at the sunshine straining in through the window. I thought of the laundry, mine and The House’s. And of supper, and the floors that needed mopping. “I’ll come,” I said at last.

The weather was glorious. I didn’t need more than a light jacket. At the coat closet, I paused. The case of toothpicks stared up at me, as though challenging my presence. I swallowed, staring back at the corrugated carton. Then, with slightly quivering hands, I pulled it out. *

(Originally Featured in Calligraphy Pesach 5777-2017)