“Amazing. Thank you, Mommy,” Shira mustered. At least she meant to mean it. “Come, boo-bah.” She tapped Dovi. “Beddy boo time.”

Dovi was so tired he didn’t protest. He accepted Shira’s hand and they walked upstairs, hand in hand.

Her mother-in-law had had a proper crib set up. It was an ashy wood, for sure straight out of Pottery Barn like the rest of the house. It felt permanent.

How long would it be? She squeezed Dovi’s hand.

She put him in the crib; he lay docile. No protest from the kid she nicknamed “my gray hairs.” She pulled the glider close and sat.

“I’m tired too, baby,” she whispered. “Also cranky.” They must’ve dozed off in tandem, because what felt like moments later — though the night sky said otherwise — Ephraim was tapping on the door.

“Gonna do Maariv. Racheli fell asleep on the couch, can you transfer her? Also, just spoke to Adam, his wife is adding you to a Wives of Northwestern chat, a support group in a way.”

He chuckled at that. Shira tried to smile; she couldn’t seem to find the muscles.

Shira glanced at her phone — 8:15. She had slept on a chair for two hours, that wasn’t going to help her tomorrow.

“Sure,” she told her husband, “when will you be back?” She tried to keep her voice calm.

Ephraim shrugged.

“Dunno, I’ll probably meet a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while, wanna catch up, stuff.”

Shira nodded. It was his hometown, it was his home, this whole situation was weird.

“See you,” she offered.

“Don’t wait up.” He smiled and left, leaving the door open behind him.

Shira’s eyes were closing, but she forced herself to get up, take care of Racheli. How you begin is important. She couldn’t remember which podcast said that, but it made sense.

The house was quiet. There were plenty of places for people to nestle away without notice, but it had the eerie sense of empty. Shira found Racheli sprawled across the couch. Should she bother with pajamas? No. She would not.

She hoisted Racheli up into a hug and brought her upstairs to her room, adjacent to Dovi’s and across from hers and Ephraim’s. Perfect family. Mommy, Tatty, four, two, and soon, soon… zero. She glanced at the clock. Only 8:25, she had to stay up until 10, maybe 11, after falling asleep with Dovi. Staaaay awaaaake….

The lawn was lush and the crowd sparse. They were there so early. Her mother-in-law did everything early. That worked for Shabbos — the kids were up at the crack of dawn, the seudah started by 10:30 so she wasn’t alone with the kids for too long, but today she would’ve preferred to linger at home.

Yes, it was a glorious day. Ephraim said it was unusual for Chicago to be this nice at this point in the year. She was gonna trust him on that. The notorious winters scared her. The lawn was pleasant, and the Pavilion and stage were a really cool setup, but sitting on the lawn, waiting patiently for the concert to start, was not really her or her kids’ thing.

“Eva, they’re adorable,” cooed Miriam, her mother-in-law’s friend. She nipped Racheli’s cheek. Racheli did not appreciate it. “You’re so lucky to have your kids living in town, and even in your house for a bit.”

Her mother-in-law nodded. Shira couldn’t read her expression. Then again, she never really got her mother-in-law. She was nice, no real complaints — but then again, living in Israel for the past five years had precluded a serious relationship.

“What’s the plan?” Miriam asked her abruptly.

“For what?” Shira asked, eyes darting to Ephraim.

“Ephraim’s going to Northwestern Law. You plan on living at Eva for three years? Settle down? Move back East?”

Shira looked toward Ephraim again, he was oblivious, playing with the kids.

“We hope to buy a house, renovate. This is temporary,” Shira answered. A direct yentish question was hard to avoid answering. Saying it out loud, though, was a punch to her windpipe.

“Where’s Daddy?” Ephraim asked.

“Work came up, so I offered Miriam his ticket,” Eva answered.

No fair! Shira bit her lip hard. Racheli and Dovi were seated now, but they were unraveling before her eyes, and no food was allowed in the Pavilion, so candy bribes were out. Why couldn’t she gracefully bow out? This is what she was missing a new live broadcast of Coach Mendy for?

“I have to tell you, Eva,” Miriam leaned forward, putting her hand on top of Shira’s. “I was just in Baltimore last week, my cousin Esti made a chasunah. Anyway, I was talking to this lady at the wedding. She’s part of a frum female orchestra. You ever heard of such a thing? And a lot of women in the orchestra give music lessons to kids in the community. It’s subsidized by an organization or something. When she was telling me about it, I thought of you right away. You’d love such a thing.”

Shira shook her head, letting the words flit in one ear, out the other, Ephraim gave the kids tchotchkes that were keeping them busy, and she felt herself dozing again. Miriam had one of those old New York voices with grating edges, but it felt dulcet and home-like now as her eyes fluttered.

The cannons woke her up.

Shira gasped audibly. Smoke was drifting out of the cannons. Another went off, Shira jumped, but kept her “welp” inside. The kids were fine, eyes fixed on the stage.

Ephraim turned to look at her, his eyes were bright like a kid thinking about candy.

“Good nap?” he said, then turned back to watch the orchestra.

Shira looked around. Everyone was captivated by the orchestra. She tried to focus on the musicians too. There were three more cannon shots. The music was making her dizzy, picking up, then slowing down, repeating the tune, but going lower; it vibrated in her. She didn’t have the words to describe what she was hearing, feeling.

“What’s going on?”

“The French are retreating,” Ephraim answered, without taking his eyes off the orchestra.

That made zero and complete sense.

“What?!”

“It’s a battle, the whole piece is about Napoleon advancing on Russia. He loses.”

Did she know Ephraim knew this?

“Cool.”

Shira tried to sit deep in her seat, her eyes were still heavy, but the music was overwhelming, intense, brassy. Who knew trumpets could sound like that? And there came the cannons again, they jolted her every time, but Dovi was shockingly thrilled — with his love for sirens, he was in boom heaven.

It was over, finally. Her mother-in-law looked over at them. Her eyes met Shira’s.

“Why didn’t you just stay home, you’re so tired?”

Shira looked at her blankly. Had there really been a choice?

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 797)