| Dream On |

Dream On: Chapter 11

By Gila Arnold | February 3, 2021

Chumi, her oldest daughter, burst into laughter. “Mommy in a sequined tichel? This I’ve gotta see!”

Chava often said there was no greater nachas than having her whole family gathered together over Chol Hamoed. That’s why they built their Succah in their building’s parking lot, despite having to carry the food up and down three flights of stairs. Their tiny porch would never be able to accommodate her large and growing family.

But right now, looking around at her children relaxing around the Succah table — the six married couples; Baruch and Reuven, her yeshivah bochurim; Elisheva; and a few of the grandchildren who hadn’t gone out to play with the rest — she was surprised to feel a certain weariness as well.

At the far end of the table, Hillel, her bechor, was telling over a chaburah he’d recently given to his kollel, while down at her end, Devoiry was discussing her new business with her sisters. Chava was curious to hear what she had to say, but somehow, her eyes kept fluttering closed.

It had been a long day; she’d gotten up early to start preparing the food. And after everyone left, she’d be faced with the dirty pots and serving dishes, the mess, the crumbs, the toys strewn all over her apartment. Her daughters and daughters-in-law, she knew, would offer to clean up, but would also gratefully submit to her insistence that she’ll take care of it; they had enough to do getting their families home, with the buses bursting with the Chol Hamoed crowds

And so, they’d go home, and she’d be left, just her and Elisheva, to deal with the mess. She passed a hand over her eyes.

“These past few weeks have been absolutely exhausting,” Devoiry was saying, although she was leaning forward as she spoke, alert and animated. “Orders have been literally pouring in. My sequined tichels are particularly popular — I can’t fill the demand fast enough! I’m literally up till 2 a.m. every night making them.”

Devoiry was wearing one of them herself, and as everyone oohed and aahed over it, she said, “If any of you want one of your own, I’ll put you down for an order. Sister discount,” she added with a wink. Then, beaming at Chava, she said, “I already gave one to Mommy.”

Chava tried to look excited as she smiled back. Erev Yom Tov, Devoiry had come by to pick up some kugels, and she’d presented Chava with a handmade scarf as a gift. Touched by the gesture, Chava had exclaimed over its exquisite artistry, but she’d sincerely hoped Devoiry didn’t expect her to actually wear it.

Now, Chumi, her oldest daughter, burst into laughter. “Mommy in a sequined tichel? This I’ve gotta see!”

Chava laughed gamely along with the others, until she saw that Devoiry looked offended.

“Ma, do you want to go try it on for them?”

Chava hesitated, trying to think of the right excuse that wouldn’t hurt Devoiry’s feelings.

What are you embarrassed about? It’s just your family.

Standing up with a sheepish grin, she said, “I’m going to need your help. I have no idea how to tie those things.”

A few minutes later, Devoiry and the rest of her girls were standing around her in the living room giggling and clapping as she swiveled around, modeling the tichel.

“Beautiful!”

“You look ten years younger!”

Devoiry beamed. “Ma, you should wear this to the seminary. The girls will think you’re totally cool.”

Chava raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but it’ll take more than a chic scarf to make me cool.” Her face clouded as her lightheartedness momentarily faded, but her daughters didn’t seem to notice.

Devoiry was still speaking. “Wish I had the guts to wear this to my school, but I think they’d have a heart attack if I showed up without a sheitel.” She grinned and held out her arms. “Anyway, I won’t have to worry about that much longer. As soon as my business takes off, it’s goodbye teaching! No more lesson plans, no more marking tests, no more dealing with chutzpahdig girls — hooray!”

Chava stiffened. It was one thing for Devoiry to make the decision to go into business because her family needed more money. But to be gleeful about the fact that she was leaving teaching, that she was stepping away from the zechus of touching young girls’ lives and shaping their values and ideals, just to sell luxury tichels?

Biting her tongue, she quickly walked out of the room.

As she was standing in her bedroom, putting her sheitel back on, she heard Devoiry say with a heaviness in her voice, “Mommy didn’t like what I just said.”

ZeeZee glared through the etched glass mechitzah. It was Shemini Atzeres night, and she was once again stuck with Chana Malka.

Last year, when she was still home, the fact that she was going to be in seminary the same year as her niece hadn’t seemed like such a significant fact. They weren’t going to the same seminary; so they’d spend a Shabbos together here and there. Big deal.

She hadn’t realized that both her mother and her sister Gitty would expect the two of them to spend practically every single Shabbos and Yom Tov together.

She’d had such plans for Simchas Torah; she’d wanted to go to Tzfas and hang out with the Breslovers. But instead, her mother had gone ahead and arranged for her second cousins the Kleinmans to host her and Chana Malka at the David Citadel. Her mother hadn’t even understood ZeeZee’s protests at making plans without consulting with her.

“But what would you do for the second days of Yom Tov otherwise?” Mommy had asked. “It gets so complicated in Israel. And you were happy enough to go the Waldorf with the Rothenbergs for the first day meals.”

ZeeZee hadn’t known how to make her mother understand that Simchas Torah was different. Or, maybe, that she’d suddenly realized the Yamim Tovim were almost over, and she hadn’t had a single genuine Israeli experience. Instead, here she was, watching a bunch of middle-aged American men walk around in circles in the hotel shul, while Chana Malka stood next to her, face buried in her Tehillim.

Grumpily, ZeeZee sat back down in her chair. If only she had someone else to hang out with, someone who knew how to have fun, maybe she could still make something of her Simchas Torah.

Chana Malka looked up from her Tehillim, and, seeing ZeeZee’s face, threw her a questioning look. “Are you feeling okay?”

ZeeZee shrugged. “Fine. Just bored.”

Chana Malka furrowed her eyebrows. Tentatively, she asked, “Do you want to hear my notes from the most incredible shiur on the meaning behind hakafos? I brought them along with me.”

ZeeZee’s mouth dropped open. “Do you…?” She stopped.

“What?”

ZeeZee eyed her niece. “Do you ever have the urge to just do something fun?”

“What makes you think I don’t have fun?” Chana Malka huffed. “I go out with friends, same as you.”

ZeeZee smirked. “I don’t mean going to the Kosel. I mean — like, something wild and crazy.”

Chana Malka stiffened. “Wild and crazy?”

ZeeZee jumped out of her chair impetuously and grabbed Chana Malka’s arm. “Know what? I’m going to teach you how to chill this year! Hang loose!”

She laughed at her niece’s horrified expression.

“I’m perfectly fine with the way I am,” Chana Malka said.

ZeeZee snorted. “That’s ’cuz you’ve never tried any other way.” She shook her head, still grinning. “We’re starting tonight. Right after dinner, we’re gonna head out to Meah Shearim together, to see some real hakafos. And we’re not coming back until it’s three in the morning, and we’ve gotten ourselves invited to a Yiddish-speaking Yerushalmi family’s seudah tomorrow.”

She giggled at the terror on Chana Malka’s face. “Hey, don’t worry, you can trust me,” ZeeZee said, swinging her hair over her shoulder. “I’m your aunt, aren’t I?”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 729)

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Chumi, her oldest daughter, burst into laughter. “Mommy in a sequined tichel? This I’ve gotta see!”

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