Deena’s daughter, who looked around Zissi’s age, tugged at her mother’s hand. “Ma…” she muttered.

“I’m coming, Miri,” Deena said. She headed over to the percolator and prepared the two noodle soups. Pessie pulled over some chairs around a small table and sat her kids down to eat. Two minutes later, Deena was back, holding steaming cups of soup.

Pessie found more chairs. “Here, girls,” she told her kids. “Make room for… Miri?”

The girl nodded sullenly.

“Miri, and?”

“Nechama,” Deena supplied.

The Hersko and Lizman girls eyed each other shyly. Malkie stood up and threw herself onto Pessie. “I want noodle soup,” she wailed.

Deena glanced at Pessie apologetically. “Oy, I feel so bad….”

“That’s okay.” Pessie crouched down to Malkie and stroked her cheek. “We’re having yogurt now, sheifeleh. If you eat nicely, I’ll take you to the pool afterward, okay?”

Malkie stopped crying and blinked uncertainly. “ ’Kay,” she mumbled.

When the kids finished eating, Deena collected the empty containers and tossed them in the garbage. Then she glanced at her watch. “I should probably go back to the kitchen now. Lunch break’s over, huh? Come, kids,” she called.

The older child gave a loud grumble. “I don’t want to be in the kitchen. It’s so boring.”

Pessie noticed Deena tense. “Miri…” she started.

“Wait,” Pessie said quickly. “I’m taking my kids swimming now. Why don’t you send your girls along?”

Deena looked lost for a moment. “Uh, are you sure?”

“Absolutely! Why not?”

“Girls, do you want to go swimming with the Herskos?”

“Yessss!” the little one squealed. The older girl gave an indifferent shrug, which from Deena’s gratified reaction, obviously meant yes.

“Wow, that’s so sweet of you,” Deena told Pessie sincerely. “Okay, we’ll run upstairs to get ready then. I’ll try to do it fast. Chaya Binick is waiting for me in the kitchen — girl company, you know. So should I meet you in the lobby in around ten minutes?”

The mention of Chaya Binick made Pessie’s stomach tighten. She’d barely exchanged ten words with Binick’s wife — the woman was completely harmless — but somehow, her carefree laughter and her constant involvement in tour work made Pessie feel horrible. As though there was something wrong with her that she was dragging her feet behind Yochi and counting the minutes to return home.

“You got it,” she told Deena with slightly forced cheer.

Deena hurried off with her girls.

Pessie was wheeling Motti’s stroller toward the doors of the tea room when the door opened and Yochi walked in.

She stopped walking as she took in her husband’s appearance. His shirt was untucked, his peyos were pushed back behind his ears. He was carrying a big box, talking loudly to someone on the phone. He mouthed a hello.

“Hi, Mr. Hersko. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Yochi winked, ended the call and turned his attention to Pessie.

“I don’t know if know myself anymore.” He hitched his phone into his holster. “How are you? How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. I’m taking the kids swimming, together with the Lizman girls.”

“Ooh, that’s great! And nice of you.”

Pessie shrugged. She was about to ask if he’d had anything to eat all day when Malkie suddenly shuddered, gave a strangled cough — and threw up.

“Oy vey!” Pessie cried. “Malkie! What happened? Are you feeling sick?”

Malkie started crying.

Pessie took a step back. What a mess. Malkie, the floor, and — argh — her own sweater and skirt, splattered.

“Oh, my,” Yochi said, whistling. “Whoa.” He stepped back as the puddle spread close to his feet. “Let’s get everyone cleaned up here. Give me a minute, Pessie. I’ll go get paper towels.”

He left the tea room, the door banging shut behind him. Pessie tried soothing Malkie while holding out her skirt. “Are you feeling better now? Maybe you ate too much milchig.”

Malkie had always been sensitive to dairy. Pessie had kept her off it for over a year, then slowly reintroduced it. She’d been more or less okay, but come to think of it, she’d had milk in her cereal that morning, then she’d snacked on string cheese, and now she’d eaten yogurt for lunch. She must have overwhelmed her system.

Well, tours. That’s what happened. It was hard to control kids’ diets away from home. She’d told herself she’d look away — with Malkie’s dairy, with Hindy’s sugar and flour, with all the kids’ junk food in general. But if this is what happened when she looked away….

She glanced at the door. Where was Yochi with the paper towels?

She was reaching for her phone in her pocket when Zissi suddenly came running from the other end of the room.

“Careful!” Pessie shouted.

Too late. Zissi slid in the puddle on the floor and went flying, landing on her back with a thud.

More tears, a crying match between Malkie and Zissi. Pessie felt her own eyes fill as she dropped her skirt and bent down to help Zissi up, gagging as her hand got all dirty.

“Eiwwww!” Hindy yelled.

With her left hand, Pessie pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed Yochi.

No answer.

She dialed again. And again and again. She sent him a text. Are you coming? We’re stuck here in the tea room, I need your help.

He didn’t respond.

It was only an hour later, after Pessie had gotten all the kids to their suite, cleaned and changed everyone, and returned to the tea room to clean up the mess they’d made, that Yochi returned her call.

“I’m so sorry!” he said breathlessly. “The tent people arrived as I left the tea room, I had to direct the delivery and give the crew instructions. Is Malkie feeling okay now?”

“Malkie is feeling fine now,” Pessie said. Her voice was clipped and she felt tears accumulate. “Go back to your tent crew.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 775)