That was a good line, Eva thought, and perfectly encapsulated part of the problem. But that wasn’t everything she was trying to achieve with the organization, and also only a fraction of the problem she was having in getting it off the ground. Funny how she had an ally, but a self-serving one. That was probably how most things are in life, she realized. Also, if she was honest, were her motivations really any different?

“Yup,” Eva said finally. “People don’t get it.” And she remembered the music store owner. Did people have to get her goal? Why did she expect them to? “I haven’t given up yet, I’m still trying to figure things out.”

Debra put her papers in her bag and swung it over her shoulder. “I appreciate it, keep me posted.”

Eva walked Debra to the door and watched her head to her car parked down the block. She’d thought she was okay letting her dreams for the organization die, and figuring out how to bring music back for herself. But the dream wasn’t just hers anymore. This would mean the world to Debra, and probably other musicians in the same position too.

Was it ever possible to please everyone?

Ephraim aligned and realigned his cutlery. He was uncomfortable and Shira knew that. It was early and the dinner rush hadn’t started yet. Shira appreciated their corner table, and looked up at the open green rafters of Shallots.

She had a few guesses as to what all this might be, but she didn’t really know, and most of it was probably her imagination on overdrive.

There was that comment from Danielle about the test, but did that warrant an official conversation? Were her in-laws suddenly broke? Had he done something terrible?

She wanted to tell him to just spit it out, but that wouldn’t be helpful, she knew that.

“Do you want to start with sushi apps, or do you want to go all fleishig?” Ephraim asked, studying the menu.

Shira shrugged. “Whatever you want, just order, I’m sure I’ll like whatever you get. I’m not picky.”

Ephraim summoned a waiter with a quick hand gesture and started pointing at the menu, asking questions and ordering. Couldn’t he just do it already? Faster?

The waiter nodded and smiled, gathered the menus, and left. Ephraim drummed his fingers on the table.

“So,” he started, then stopped.

Shira looked at him expectantly. Could he just get on with it? Dying, she was dying here.

“There’s this one class, and I really haven’t been doing well in it. I bombed a paper, and the professor was disgusting about it.”

Shira nodded and felt a flash of gratitude to Danielle for the inadvertent heads-up. It made it easier not to overreact.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and…” He paused here. “I think law school was a mistake. I don’t think it’s a good fit for me. And honestly, I don’t need it, I have Totty’s and Daddy’s connections, I have a good head, I can learn on the job.”

He was rambling now, and Shira felt a burn starting in her chest and rising to her throat.

“I guess part of me wanted to prove myself, that I could do it, that I don’t need my father or shver, but really, that’s so immature of me. Hashem put me into this family and I’m rejecting it and saying I need something different.”

Was he seriously trying to make this into a spiritual goal, and not an escape tactic? The heat rose to her ears, and she couldn’t even hear Ephraim anymore, though his lips were still moving.

“Ephraim,” she interrupted him. “Is it more than one course?”

Ephraim startled a second, then stammered, “No, the others are fine, but also, I have no life. And once I have this grade my GPA is shot forever—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Shira hissed.

Ephraim’s eyes opened wide. “Shira, did you hear what I just told you? That was one of the hardest things I’ve had to admit to in my life.”

Shira rolled her eyes and shook her head dismissively. Putting both hands on the table edge, she leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Hard? You think that was hard? You want to hear hard?!”

She ticked off her fingers.

“You decided to go to law school, barely ask me what I think, drag me away from Eretz Yisrael, away from my parents, dump me in this no-man’s land with no friends, no place of my own. I’m expecting, I’m miserable, and now you have the chutzpah to tell me you’re quitting. So, what’s next? Where else will you take me without asking if I want to or if I think it’s a good idea?”

She inhaled deeply; the oxygenated blood let her voice level.

“You know what, I’m done chasing your tail. I’m going to do my own thing. I don’t need to mindlessly follow you, you know.”

She pulled out her phone and called an Uber.

“I’m going home.” And without another word or backward glance she walked out of the restaurant. Ephraim followed her, but she didn’t engage.

“What’s going on, Shira? I’m trying to share something with you, and you blow up, I don’t get why you’re so mad?” He sounded vulnerable.

She didn’t even bother glowering at him. She’d had enough of being a rubber stamp to all his decisions.

“Shira!” Ephraim’s voice was urgent. He sounded desperate. She didn’t care.

The Uber pulled up, and she entered, careful not to slam the door. The windows were tinted in the back, so she glanced at Ephraim. His eyes were wide, and he was running his fingers through his hair. He looked disheveled and confused. Good, she thought, let him feel the disconnect I’ve been living.

All the ride home her mind kept running on a loop. The chutzpah! To tell her he was quitting like that without even asking her what she thought. He’d never even told her he wasn’t doing well. And everyone but her knew…. What did he think she was, last week’s leftovers in the back of the fridge? And this was just one more in the long line of “executive” decisions he’d made. She didn’t think he was a narcissist; she’d heard their criteria on Dee Dee’s podcast, but he was being incredibly selfish. And clueless.

The heat was rising in her body again. She took a few deep, calming breaths and centered herself. She wasn’t going to think about him. What she was doing now was for her. A soothing warmth spread through her with that thought, and she leaned back into the seat.

Once home, she hurriedly dumped her bag on the floor, then rushed to bed, ignoring the mess around her that she’d planned to clean up when she got home. She didn’t want to risk Ephraim coming home right after her and trying to talk. That, she was not doing. For sure not tonight, she decided. Let him toss and turn and wonder what will be, let him feel rootless and lost. Let him know, really know.

Sleep hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 817)