Chumie was… electric. She knew how to transform the mundane into the magical, she left a trail of glitter everywhere she went. Sometimes Dovi wondered what she saw in him

He could tell something was up before she buckled her seat belt.

It was the quiet.

His wife was many things, but pensive didn’t usually make the list. Dovi’s heart lurched a little when he noticed the faraway look in her eyes as he reversed out of the driveway.

Nail in the coffin: She didn’t even reach to turn off 100 Years of Outstanding Chazzanus as they headed down the street.

“Spill it, Chumie. Am I in for mess or money?” he asked, kamikaze style. The last time she’d been quiet like this, she’d decided to refinish their kitchen cabinets on her own, to “reflect her intrinsic bespoke-y-ness.”

That had been mess and money. She was talented like that.

Chumie turned to look at him, blinked a few times, then broke into a grin. “Neither! I was just thinking about the Felder bas mitzvah. The daughter wants sleek. Clean.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean there’s a time and place, people! Twelve should be oversized feathers and gigantic balloons and ridiculous pink and gold swag bags.”

“The Felder bas mitzvah,” he repeated.

Chumie looked out the window. “Yup.”

“So you’re not planning on transforming our dining room into a drop paint studio by tomorrow morning? No woodworking on the porch? No designer couch that you conveniently forgot to tell me about showing up at our front door?”

Chumie laughed. “You’re not allowed to hold that against me. That was a one-time thing. And I didn’t forget to tell you. Birthday presents are supposed to be a surprise!”

“You surprised yourself with a couch. For your birthday.”

“We’ve been through this already. I couldn’t surprise myself, obviously, ’cuz I had to pick it out, so surprising you was the next best thing.” She glanced at him. “And I couldn’t tell you because you would have waxed poetic about the virtues of frugality and told me the best present I could give myself is ‘money safe in the bank’! You left me no choice, sir.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Fine. But truth?” Her eyes danced. “It’s really hard being married to a CPA. So hard. You need to cut me some slack sometimes.”

He knew she was joking, but it stung anyway. Chumie was… electric. She knew how to transform the mundane into the magical, she left a trail of glitter everywhere she went. Sometimes Dovi wondered what she saw in him. He couldn’t even pick out a gift for her without his sister-in-law’s help. He liked crosswords, slippers, decaf, and a sefer near his recliner — and he wasn’t even thirty yet. He hated date night. And hated that he hated it. He’d envisioned a marriage where he brought something special to the relationship, but Chumie was so… Chumie, he found himself constantly playing the role of the practical, down-to-earth, boring one. The extent of his spontaneous creative gestures was the early morning search and rescue of her credit card, which he usually found lying around the house after one of her late-night online shopping sprees. He’d slip it quietly back into her wallet and think, Romantic? Nope. Boring.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Chumie clapped loudly “I forgot! Pregnancy brain.”

See? He knew there was something.