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| Dream On |

Dream On: Chapter 19

“ZeeZee, we already discussed this. The hospital isn’t a place for a seminary girl. Rabbi Freund will never allow it”

 

The girls in Chava’s class were particularly listless today; she found herself having to answer her own questions since the girls weren’t focused enough to listen, and ZeeZee Keller actually put her head down and started snoring in the middle of the lesson.

Frustrated, Chava decided to end the class early. “What’s going on today, girls?”

“Didn’t you hear about Miriam?” Rusi asked, and the girls started eagerly filling her in on the details.

“ZeeZee went with her to the hospital,” Rusi said.

At the sound of her name, ZeeZee lifted her head.

“What did I miss?” she mumbled. Seeing the girls getting up around her, she grabbed her bag and stood. That’s when she noticed Chava looking at her.

“Sorry, Mrs. Edelman,” ZeeZee said. “I was totally wiped. We got back from the ER crazy late. I was gonna just sleep all morning but I didn’t want to skip your class.”

She flashed Chava a smile so disarming that Chava couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m so glad you didn’t miss it,” Chava replied, her voice laced with an irony which, as she suspected, was completely lost on ZeeZee. “That was nice of you to go with your friend to the hospital.”

ZeeZee walked closer to Chava’s desk. “I was happy to. It was a cool experience. The ER has a legit crazy energy. You feel so alive there, you know?”

“Let’s hope everyone does,” Chava replied, raising an eyebrow. Where was ZeeZee going with this? “I’m glad you were able to help Miriam.”

“Yeah.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and said, hesitantly, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could help more people?”

Ah. So that was it. Chava sighed. “ZeeZee, we already discussed this. The hospital isn’t a place for a seminary girl. Rabbi Freund will never allow it.”

ZeeZee pressed her lips together and glared at her notebook.

“I’m sorry Shleimut didn’t work out, but I’m working on some other ideas for you,” Chava continued. “And if you have any to suggest, I’m happy to look into them as well.”

“I just did,” ZeeZee muttered under her breath. But then she said politely, “Thank you, Mrs. Edelman. I appreciate it.”

Tammy stood in front of her fridge for several seconds before she managed to remember why she’d opened it. Eggs. For chocolate chip cookies.

She’d strongly considered canceling Cookie Thursday tonight. “Not in the mood” was the understatement of the year; she was running on two hours’ sleep and had gotten chewed out by her boss this morning. Acting fun and perky was the last thing she wanted to do.

But she couldn’t bring herself to cancel. The girls looked forward to it, she still got a sizeable crowd each week, and they always sincerely thanked her afterwards. And it wasn’t just an excuse to schmooze and eat cookies; over the past few weeks, they’d had several good, deep discussions.

See, Rabbi Freund? I do know what I’m doing. How’s that for “inexperienced” me?

His words had been running through her head all day. “Your error of judgment.” She didn’t know who she was more upset with — Mrs. Bruckstein, for tattling on her; Shani, for putting her into this situation; or herself, for messing up so royally just two months into her new job.

Mostly herself, she decided, as she half-heartedly poured sugar into the bowl. Maybe she should just admit defeat and go back to booking appointments for real estate showings.

Yehuda walked in as she was removing the first batch of cookies from the oven.

“Cookies?” His face brightened for a moment, then fell. “Right. It’s Thursday.” He sat down at the table and said, in an oddly formal voice, “How was your day?”

Tammy concentrated on dropping cookie batter onto the baking paper. He was still angry with her from this morning. Well, she was hurt, too. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Why was every single person in her life criticizing her? How come no one understood that she was just trying to help a girl who had no one else to turn to? That she actually was helping her?

Tammy swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Fine,” she said.

She continued looking down at her cookie sheet. She couldn’t look her husband in the eyes. Not when she wanted so badly to say, “Horrible,” and tell him all about her miserable day. But it wouldn’t help. The way he’d been acting recently, he’d probably look at her sternly and say, “Well, what did you expect?”

A tear fell into the batter, and Yehuda drew in his breath. “Tammy, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head as, covering her face, she stood up and ran into their bedroom. She closed the door and sat down on her bed, shaking with sobs. Yehuda knocked tentatively on the door, but she ignored it.

After a few moments, he knocked again. Wiping her eyes, she opened the door. Yehuda was holding a plate of cookies.

“I thought you could use some chocolate chip cookies,” he said. “They’re good, straight out of the oven.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” he asked softly.

Tammy hesitated. Could she trust him to give her the sympathy she needed? “I’m not sure…” she began.

Suddenly, her phone rang. She walked into the kitchen and looked down at the caller. She brightened when she saw who it was.

“Okay if I take this?” she asked Yehuda. “It’s Rikki, and you know how hard she is to reach.”

Yehuda shrugged, and Tammy quickly picked up. “Rikki! It’s been ages! How are you?”

It was incredible how just hearing her old friend’s voice instantly lifted her spirits. She went back to spooning out her cookie batter as she proceeded to catch her friend up on her life.

“Yeah, it’s amazing, working at the seminary,” she said. “Well, except for today. Today was awful, actually.” She threw a swift glance at Yehuda, who’d gone into the living room. He appeared immersed in a sefer.

Lowering her voice, she said, “Rikki, it is such hashgachah that you called right now. How’d you know that I needed to speak to a friend so badly? Listen to what happened…”

Rikki was the perfect listener, and Tammy felt her mood lighten as she shared the saga with her. By the time she hung up, she felt so much better that her voice had its usual cheeriness as she called out to Yehuda, “Dinner’s ready!”

She flashed him a smile, to try to convey that she was ready to forgive and forget what had happened that morning, and said, “Thanks for the cookies. That was really sweet.”

To her surprise, Yehuda rolled his eyes. “Glad I’m good for something,” he muttered, as he sat down.

 

Chava opened her front door, surprised to find her apartment dark. Where was Elisheva? She should have been home from school long ago; Thursdays were Chava’s late days.

Flicking on the lights, Chava dropped her bag, sat down on the couch, and kicked off her shoes. Was her teaching becoming more tiring, or was she just getting older? She didn’t remember feeling this exhaustion at the end of the week back when she was in her twenties and thirties, even though she had a household of little children as well.

She looked into her kitchen. The counters were still clean; that meant Elisheva hadn’t started on the Shabbos cooking. Baruch and Reuven were coming home from yeshivah, and Devoiry had called last night to invite herself over once again. (“You’re a lifesaver, Ma! Without you, we’d literally be eating challah and deli for Shabbos.”)

What Chava really wanted to do right now was make herself a cup of tea and sit down with that new biography she’d been waiting to read. But Shabbos preparations were calling, and it looked like she was on her own tonight. Maybe Elisheva had gone to study with some friends?

Wearily, she made her way into the kitchen. She paused by the fridge; there was a note from Elisheva.

Mommy — I went over to Devoiry’s. She called to ask if I could come watch her kids while she worked. Hope you had a good day 😉

Chava frowned as she reread the note. She was all for sisters helping each other, but really, this was a bit much. Not only did Devoiry invite herself for Shabbos, she also took away Chava’s help?

She pulled out some onions and sat down to chop. Well, at least you can feel good knowing that some woman will be able to buy a sequined tichel because of you.

to be continued…

 

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 737)

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