But Dini’s voice was too perky for her nerves right now. “Good morning! Hope you’re feeling better now that you slept. Just checking if you got a chance to look at the logo, ‘cause I want to finalize.”

Ayala clenched her hand around the phone. “No, actually I overslept, and I’m rushing like crazy now to catch a bus to work.”

“Oy, how annoying. You really need a car.”

Ayala closed her eyes. Seriously? Even for Dini, that comment was way beyond insensitive.

“Sure, if your father wants to sponsor one for me, too.” Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that?

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I’m just stressed right now; I have kids waiting for me at the clinic.”

She heard Dini exhaling loudly. “Don’t you get it? This is why I want to move forward on this branding material. So that you won’t have to be stressed about stuff like this! And I agree, someone should sponsor a car for you. I think I’m gonna include that in my fundraising goal.”

Whaat? Ayala paused in her scrolling down the bus schedule. Was Dini serious? This was getting ridiculous already; Dini seemed determined to make Ayala into… into her personal tzedakah project.

“There’s no need,” she said tightly. “I’m fine. I just need to get to work right now.”

“Can you please just quickly look at—”

Ayala hissed in exasperation. Dini wasn’t going to let up. She rapidly opened her email and clicked on the one Dini sent last night. Okay, logo. Something green and violet, with a swirl underneath.

“Very nice,” she said. “Great, beautiful. Go with it.”

And then she hung up and raced out of the house.

Dini had never been inside Shuki’s office before; now she stood outside, hesitating, wondering if it was appropriate for her to walk into this men’s shared workspace. She should probably just call and tell him to come out and meet her. But the idea of going inside and sneaking a candid glimpse of his work life was irresistible.

She pushed open the glass door.

A few men working in cubicles looked up in surprise. Blushing, she asked where Shuki Blumenfeld sits and was directed to the other side of the long room.

As she walked through the office, she was struck by the quiet; guys were sitting by their desks, hard at work. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, exactly. A yeshivah dorm? To find Shuki with his legs up on the table, munching Doritos and shooting the breeze with the guy next to him?

Yet Shuki, too, was hunched over his computer, squinting at a spreadsheet. She walked up softly behind him, grinning.

“Surprise!”

She had never seen her husband startle before. He jumped so fast, his kippah nearly slid off his head.

“Dini! What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Her grin faded. Why did he not sound happy to see her?

“Yes, everything’s fine. I had my Pilates class this morning, and the studio’s not far from here, so I decided to stop by….” Her voice trailed off. At the time, she’d been pleased with herself for the idea; she’d thought Shuki would be just as touched by the gesture as she’d been with his coming home yesterday to eat lunch with her.

Had she been wrong?

Lamely, she held up a Café Greg bag. “Roasted pepper panini?”

Shuki’s shoulders relaxed. “Wow, sounds delicious. Thanks.” Still, his eyes searched her face. “You really just came to bring me lunch?”

The way he said it made her feel stupid. Why had she come? She wasn’t sure exactly, except that she’d been so impressed with the way he’d taken the lead on the logo design that she’d felt like sharing her exultation that Ayala had approved it.

Dini leaned against the wall of his cubicle. Shuki immediately stood up and offered her his chair.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting down.  “Yes, I came to bring you lunch. And also to tell you that Ayala loved the logo!”

Okay, perhaps that was stretching her tepid “very nice” too far. Still, she’d gotten the go-ahead, and that was the important thing.

“Glad to hear.” Shuki was still eyeing her curiously. Dini shifted in the cushioned office chair.

“So now we need to move forward. Since you said you wanted to help with marketing, I thought we should discuss the next step. A brochure? We need something informational to send out, I think.”

He nodded. “Yeah, sounds right.”

“So, we need someone to write it.  Do you know anyone who does that?”

Shuki scratched the back of his neck.  “I can ask around. But… how urgent is this?” His eyes shifted to his computer.

Dini’s eyebrows furrowed. She’d been replaying her conversation with Ayala all morning. The tension in her friend’s voice; the way she’d uncharacteristically snapped at Dini. It sounded like Ayala was on the verge of a breakdown, and it was in Dini’s power to prevent that.

“Very urgent,” she said. “Ayala desperately needs to quit her speech job, but she can’t do that until I get her a salary. She sounded terrible this morning. I’ve never heard her like this before.”

“Hmm.” He looked at her. “If it’s that bad, maybe you shouldn’t wait to put together a brochure. Maybe you just make a call now.”

Her eyes widened.  “Now? Without anything to show? Wouldn’t that look completely unprofessional?”

He shrugged. “Tell them you’re in the process of producing your marketing collateral, but in the meantime an emergency need came up.”

“Wait, marketing what? Say that again?” She needed a notebook to write this down. How did Shuki come up with such a sophisticated line at the drop of a hat, while the thought of actually making this call, with no carefully worded brochure to quote from, was sending her into utter panic?

He laughed. “You can come up with your own words — you’re great at speaking to people.”

Was she? Yes, in the schmoozy, working-the-crowd-at-a-kiddush sense. Or, rather, playing hostess at a charitable luncheon like her mother did — the role her family had groomed her for.

But to sound intelligent, professional, assured? To have persuasive words and impressive statistics rolling easily off her tongue?

Shuki’s confidence in her was gratifying but, no, no, no! Looking at him, she was suddenly hit with a brainstorm. “Wait, how about you do it?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah!” She smiled in relief. Of course! It was the perfect solution! “You’d be perfect! You’re fabulous at persuading people. Remember how you convinced all those apartment owners to make peace with the Tzaddok family’s renovations?”

He laughed at the memory but shook his head. “I think you should do it. I know you can, and I think you do, too. You just need to gain confidence — and you won’t until you’ve tried.”

Dini wanted to continue arguing, wanted Shuki to step in and save the day for her — but how could she, when he was so positive that she had what it takes? When he was expressing a belief in her that she’d never dared to express in herself?

She straightened her head and flashed him a grateful smile. Softly — aware that the cubicle walls were thin and that her voice carried in this quiet office — she said, “Hey, it was worth coming all the way here just to hear you say that.”

Ayala had played catch up all day at work; it was only when she sat down on the bus for her trip home that she realized she hadn’t eaten all day. Nor had she packed herself any food, but maybe she had a granola bar in her pocketbook? Rummaging through the debris, she discovered that it was only half a granola bar, but it was enough to take away her lightheadedness.

It was only after she’d taken a bite that she realized she hadn’t even looked at her phone all day. Chesed Tzirel! How many calls had come in? What if there’d been an emergency? Or what if Tatty had had a relapse and her mother had been trying to reach her?

She rummaged some more in her pocketbook. Wait a second; where was her phone? Where. Was. Her. Phone? Had she left it at work? She closed her eyes, trying to remember. She’d put it on her table, as usual. No, maybe someone had moved it? Played with it? Yes! Sruli had! He’d grabbed it and thrown it into the box of blocks, and his mother had breathlessly apologized and Ayala had assured her it was fine… and the phone was still there.

While she was on a bus back to Ramat Beit Shemesh.

As hungry and exhausted as she felt, there was no choice. She’d have to get off the bus and go right back to the clinic. There were too many people depending on her to leave her phone at work overnight.

She knew what Naftali would tell her. Knew what Bracha would tell her. Knew even what Dini would tell her. Forget about it, go home. Take care of yourself. The world will live without you for one day.

The bus reached the next stop and Ayala quickly stepped off. But as she ran across the street to catch the bus going in the other direction, the voice that was screaming in her ear wasn’t Naftali’s, Bracha’s, or Dini’s. It was her own.

And it was telling her that something in her life had to give.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 862)