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| Dream On |

Dream On: Chapter 3   

By Shabbos afternoon, ZeeZee was going stir-crazy. How many hours could they lie around in the lounge, swapping stories about their craziest teachers in high school?

Chava felt the week’s tension slowly sliding off her shoulders as she watched Shloime pull four-year-old Yitzi onto his lap and ask, “Who can tell me what this week’s parshah is?”

It had been a good idea, inviting Devoiry and her family for the Friday night meal. After a week like the one she’d had, having the kids around was just what she needed. With six of her children married, and the two boys in yeshivah, it was just Elisheva living at home. She sometimes felt bad for her, a teenage girl with two old parents. Even though her married daughters laughed when she expressed this.

“Oh, Mommy, you’re not old,” Devoiry had said the other day. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. Elisheva is so lucky to have you and Tatty to herself. Growing up, I used to wish I could get you alone.”

She’d smiled, but Chava had felt her heart constrict with a mix of pride and guilt. Was Devoiry saying that she was a good mother, or a terrible one who hadn’t given her kids enough attention?

No, she admonished herself. Just because her teaching skills were suddenly called into question didn’t mean she had to doubt everything else in her life. She had a wonderful relationship with her children, baruch Hashem, and she was so grateful for that.

Still, she worried about Elisheva. The girl was only 16, and… and according to Rabbi Freund, you don’t know how to relate to today’s teenagers.

Chava quickly stood up and began clearing the fish plates. Devoiry followed her into the kitchen, carrying the platter of gefilte fish.

“How’s the new school year starting out?” Chava asked. Devoiry had a plum job as an eighth-grade mechaneches in her local Bais Yaakov.

Devoiry shrugged. “Fine. The girls are… it’s, you know—” Chava raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t like Devoiry to be so inarticulate. Placing the fish platter on the counter, Devoiry said, “Yummy fish, Ma.”

Chava laughed at the obvious attempt to change the subject. “As if I haven’t been making the same boiled gefilte fish ever since you were born.”

Devoiry began piling the leftover pieces into the tray. “It’s amazing how you and Tatty don’t need any variety. Me, on the other hand… Last week I tried a new recipe, teriyaki salmon with sushi salad. It was yum. Even Yitzi asked for more.”

“Sounds delicious.” Chava lifted the heavy soup pot off the hot plate. “But salmon is so expensive.”

She knew she’d made a mistake as soon as she saw Devoiry’s cheeks tauten. “I don’t buy it so often, but... well, I’m sorry, I can’t feed my family bread and chummus every day.”

Chava quickly changed her tone. “Of course not,” she said, ignoring the jab at her own suppers.

Devoiry still looked miffed. “Ma,” she said, “this is what we eat today. It’s a different generation, you know.”

And just like that, the tension of the week whammed Chava between her shoulder blades. “So I’ve been told,” she muttered.

Yehuda was already strapping Shimmy into his stroller before Tammy had finished bentshing. “Ready to go, Tam?”

Tammy supposed she couldn’t blame him for wanting to get out of a room filled with some 60 seminary girls, half of whom had been bawling during Eishes Chayil. The first Shabbos of the seminary year was tough for a man to handle.

He’d looked a little frightened when, after giving Shimmy a brachah, he’d leaned over to her and whispered, “Are we expected to be here every in-Shabbos?”

Tammy had reassured him they weren’t, but then she’d spent most of the meal moving from table to table in the dining room, so she hadn’t gotten a chance to see how he was faring. At one point, she’d glimpsed him in conversation with the menahel, and had a wild fantasy moment of the two of them hitting it off, Yehuda being offered a job, the two of them becoming the power seminary couple hosting and inspiring girls…

But now the meal was over, and Yehuda was making it quite clear that he’d been long ready to leave.

“Um, almost,” she told him. “I just need to find one of the girls. I told Shani she could come over to our house and schmooze after the meal.”

Yehuda stiffened. “You’re bringing someone home with us?” He looked up. “Why can’t you talk here?”

“Because she wanted privacy.”

Yehuda didn’t reply. Instead, he said to Shimmy, “Okay, buddy, all set. We’ll go home now, and Mommy will follow us later.”

Watching Yehuda’s hunched shoulders as he walked away with her baby, Tammy had an urge to run after them, to forget about finding Shani. But no, the girl needed her. And Yehuda — well, he could manage fine without her for one night, right?

It took another hour until Tammy left the building, and by the time she and Shani arrived at her apartment, both Yehuda and Shimmy were asleep. Happy for the silence, Tammy took out a plate of leftover cookies and motioned for Shani to sit down.

“So, how’s it been going so far?” she asked. “Classes? Roommates? Remind me who you’re rooming with?”

Shani was pulling at a long strand of hair as she answered haltingly. “Um, fine. The classes are okay. And my roommates too, I think. Rusi Sternfeld and ZeeZee Keller?”

Tammy nodded. “ZeeZee, she’s a real character. She must be fun to have as a roommate.”

Shani gave an equivocal “Mmm,” but Tammy privately thought the exuberant girl was just the sort of roommate Shani needed to help her make friends. After all, back in her school days, she’d been the popular, fun-loving ZeeZee-type, and how often had her teachers asked her to use her social gifts to help out a quieter girl?

Tammy looked at her. “How’s the homesickness? The first Shabbos in particular can be hard.”

Shani shrugged. “It’s fine for me. I’m not really homesick.” She looked down at her hands, which were twisting and untwisting in her lap.

“Lucky you.” Tammy was silent for a moment, inviting the girl to talk.

“Lucky? Not exactly.” Shani’s eyes narrowed.

Okayyy. “Um, something you want to talk about?”

Shani glanced at her. “Yes… No… I don’t know.” She raked a hand through her hair and looked away. “Sorry, I sound weird. It’s just… hard for me, you know?” She took a deep breath. “Okay, my parents got divorced last year.”

Tammy’s heart plummeted. Poor girl. “That must be so rough,” she said, as she reached out to touch her hand.

To her surprise, Shani instinctively pulled her hand back, then blushed when she realized what she’d done.

Covering over the awkwardness, Tammy asked, “Was the divorce a shock to you, or did you know it was coming?”

“Oh, they’d been fighting forever. I hated it. I was glad to come to seminary and get away from it all. Even though my mother didn’t want me to come, I got my way. She had to give in, you know, after the divorce. Guilt and all that.” Shani smirked, and, hearing such jaded remarks coming out of such an innocent-looking girl, Tammy felt indignation welling up inside her. How could parents be so selfish?

“Why didn’t she want you to come?” Tammy asked. Lowering her voice sympathetically, she murmured, “Money must be tight after a divorce, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was about the money. But she pretended it was something else.” Shani laughed bitterly to herself, then glanced at Tammy, and quickly away again, as if she’d said too much.

By Shabbos afternoon, ZeeZee was going stir-crazy. How many hours could they lie around in the lounge, swapping stories about their craziest teachers in high school? Impatiently, she stood up.

“I’m going for a walk,” she announced. “Anyone wanna join me?”

A few girls lifted their heads. “Where are you going?”

“Tzfas. Don’t worry,” she added in response to the shocked giggles. “We’ll be back by Shalosh Seudos.”

Rusi, her roommate, stood up. “I’ll walk you as far as Unsdorf. I’m going to visit my friend in Bnos Hinda.”

ZeeZee brightened. “Great, I’ll come with you. We’ll save Tzfas for next Shabbos.”

“You know someone in Bnos Hinda?” Rusi asked, surprised. Bnos Hinda was on the absolute frummiest end of the seminary spectrum.

ZeeZee nodded knowingly. “Not exactly my type, huh? But as a matter of fact,” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, “my very own niece is there this year.”

She grinned at the amused looks on the girls’ faces. The funniest part was, these girls had no idea just how amusing it was.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 721)

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