At that, she did crack a grin. “I see in the future I’ll just have to do a better job prepping the volunteers for what’s involved.”

“That’s the spirit.” Shuki nodded solemnly. “When life throws you lemons, make lemonade.”

She scowled, but this time, there was a twinkle in her eye. “Okay, you can stop making fun of me now.”

“Moi? I’m just trying to demonstrate my sympathy for your hard day with some pick-me-up inspirational quotes. After all, every cloud has a silver lining.”

She threw a couch pillow at him, but missed.

“If at first you don’t succeed…” he intoned.

She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.

“Grilled cheese, sorry,” Ayala said as she handed Naftali a plate.  She always felt the need to apologize when supper was particularly pathetic, even though she knew her husband genuinely didn’t care. If she’d been the type who was into gourmet recipes, Naftali’s obliviousness to food would have driven her crazy. As it stood, she was simply grateful. Especially on exhausting, emotionally confusing days like today.

“Just what I was in the mood for,” he said with a grin. The grin faded as he looked up at her face.

“You okay?”

Ayala shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I think so.” She rubbed her temples. “Long day.” She sighed.

Naftali’s eyes crinkled. “Want to sit down and tell me about it?”

The kids were running around the living room and desperately needed to be put to bed. Layale had just informed her she had no more clean uniform shirts. And the sink still had last night’s dinner dishes soaking inside.

But yes, she realized. There was nothing she wanted more than to unload her roiling emotions on Naftali.

“I do,” she said. “But the kids need to go to sleep right now.” And by the time that happened, Naftali would be on his way back to the kollel for night seder, and she would have missed her opportunity. She looked down at her fingers, taken aback by the sudden lump in her throat. She quickly blinked back the tears. Crying? How utterly embarrassing. But… she’d spent her entire day giving to others; wasn’t she entitled to some care and compassion herself?

Naftali’s eyes widened. He leaned forward. “I’ll put the kids to sleep. You go rest. We’ll talk afterward.”

It felt decadent, lying on the couch with a magazine at the height of bedtime when she wasn’t even sick. Ayala smiled as she watched Naftali give Rafi an airplane ride to his bedroom, wondered briefly if she should remind him to brush their teeth, then decided it didn’t really matter. She leaned her head on the armrest and closed her eyes, thinking about her day and trying to make sense of what it was that was disturbing her so much.

She must have dozed because, next thing she knew, Naftali was sitting next to her and the living room was quiet. She sat up and yawned. “Everyone asleep?”

“Yup. And the twins are in their room studying for a test.”

Ayala smiled. “Thank you. I needed that.” She glanced at her watch and took a breath. “Now it’s time for you to get going, isn’t it?”

But Naftali remained sitting. “You look like you’re really upset about something.”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know what’s bothering me so much.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me about your day? You went with Mrs. Aaronson to the emergency room?”

Ayala hesitated, looking at her watch once again. But Naftali wasn’t budging.

She smiled gratefully. “Yeah, and I’m glad I did. She’s so sweet, and she has no one else, you know. And then, in the middle of the day, I got another call….”

She told him about how torn she’d felt, how she’d decided to call Dini to stay with Mrs. Aaronson while she helped the Schwartzes, and then the odd phone call she’d received from the elderly lady, when it emerged that Dini had sent someone else in her place.

Naftali’s mouth dropped open. “She fainted? What did you do?”

“I called Dini right away, of course. She was so embarrassed. She told me that she’d forgotten her older daughter wasn’t home and she had no one to stay with her kids, so she found a volunteer to replace her.”

Naftali was watching her.  “That sounds reasonable enough,” he said slowly.

Ayala shrugged. “I guess so. But… you can’t just get anyone to stay with a patient in the hospital! Didn’t she realize it’s not the same as… as… as asking someone to make a meal?” She clenched her fists. “It takes a certain level of skill and responsibility!”

Naftali raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. But Ayala knew what he’d been about to say.

“Fine, Dini was being responsible,” she muttered. “I asked her at the last minute, what was she supposed to do? I know that.” She rubbed her finger along the armrest. Dini had also been responsible about getting in touch right away with this Sarale’s husband, who’d reached Shaare Zedek at the same time as Ayala.

She tried to explain herself. “Sarale is a young newlywed. She looked like she was 19, I’m serious.” She stopped and frowned. If the girl was old enough to get married, then she was old enough to deal with doctors and hospitals. That hadn’t been unreasonable of Dini, either.

“You went back to the hospital to help her, huh?” Why did Naftali look mildly exasperated as he said it?

“What would you have done? I mean, okay, Dini said the husband was on his way, but, you know, I didn’t know how long that would be and there was still Mrs. Aaronson to take care of.” She pictured the fragile, patient, helpless look in the older lady’s eyes; somehow, her own mother’s image always became superimposed on Mrs. Aaronson’s in Ayala’s mind. How could she not go back to help her?

Naftali scratched his beard.  “So everything turned out okay in the end?”

He was trying, she knew, to figure out why, exactly, he was skipping night seder. The thought made her even more exasperated.

“No, it didn’t! Because the Schwartzes were left to finish their meeting on their own, Mrs. Aaronson, poor lady, was in a panic over the state of some silly girl who can’t handle blood, and… and—” She gritted her teeth. “And Dini was somehow convinced that she was the hero coming to the rescue for Chesed Tzirel once again!”

Ayala stood up, in a sudden burst of anger.  “Naftali, I’m starting to wonder why I dropped my speech job. What does it help to be available full-time when I’m anyway not servicing everyone who needs me? But, more to the point, ever since I accepted the salary, all I’ve been doing is reacting to Dini!” She breathed heavily as she felt the truth of that statement.

“She’s been setting the agenda! She’s been telling me what we need to do, who we need to meet with and when that should happen. And even today, when I asked her to do something for me, she made the unilateral decision to ask someone else. To… do you know how she described it? To ‘dip into our volunteer pool.’ Naftali, what volunteer pool?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t she the one who coordinates meals? She must have a volunteer base for that.”

Ayala shook her head. “I think it’s something different. When I spoke to Sarale and asked her how she knew Dini, she said she was part of the volunteer club. She called it a club. Doesn’t that sound fishy?”

Naftali cocked his head to the side. “Maybe,” he said cautiously. He paused for a moment. “Didn’t you say you guys had spoken about putting together a group of volunteers? Maybe she’s started to do it.”

“Without me?!” Ayala nearly screamed.

Naftali looked at her. “So that’s what’s bothering you?”

“Yes!” Ayala clenched her fists. “No! Not just that, everything!” She paced up and down the room, frustrated at her inability to articulate what she was feeling.

Naftali was staring into space. At last, he said, “It sounds to me like you need to do two things. One, take back control of the agenda. You know, sit down and think out for yourself your vision for Chesed Tzirel. And, two—” He looked up at her. “You need to train someone else to do what you do, so that you won’t find yourself stuck in today’s situation again.”

Ayala stopped pacing. Train someone else to do what she did? But… this was her specialty, her gift of giving to others! To train someone else to do the exact same thing?

Ayala rubbed her forehead. He was right. Chesed Tzirel wasn’t about her; it was about helping others — helping sweet elderly couples like the Aaronsons and frightened young families dealing with cancer like the Schwartzes, and also people who broke a leg or had an appendix attack or even woke up with a toothache. When she’d started Chesed Tzirel, she’d promised herself that she would help any Anglo who reached out, so that they shouldn’t have to experience what she had gone through.

She eyed Naftali as she realized: Not she, they. What they’d gone through. Naftali had experienced the same helplessness she had, back when the twins were born. He, more than anyone, knew how important Chesed Tzirel was. The organization needed to grow, and this was the only way to do it.

“You’re right,” she said, as she gave him a slow smile. “I really do need to train someone else.” She held up a finger. “But not Dini. I’m telling you right now, whoever it is, it’s not going to be her.”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 877)