Her father-in-law, sefer in hand, started sharing a combination of what the rav had said plus his spin. Shira was grateful for a reason to be quiet.

“What’s your favorite instrument?” Debra asked Shira when the devar Torah was over.

“Drums.” Shira was sure of this. She loved music, not the classic kind, but the regular normal stuff, and she always set the bass on the highest. She loved feeling the vibrations of the song.

“I’m assuming your taste leans more modern.” Debra smiled.

“Yes, is it that obvious?”

“Drums are not really classical instruments. There are different percussion instruments, but the drums that you know don’t appear in an orchestra.”

“Really?” Shira asked. “How is there rhythm, then?”

“Beats and rhythms are not the same thing, although they are obviously connected…” Debra started explaining. Shira tried to keep her eyes focused, as if she were listening, but the answer was already boring.

“Fanfare for the Common Man features a drum but it’s not there for rhythm at all. It’s evocative and soul-stirring,” Ephraim commented when Debra finished.

It was like Shira didn’t know this part of her husband. It had clearly lain dormant for five years in Israel, and now that he was back in Chicago, he’d turned into this classical music aficionado.

“Ooh, I love that piece. Never gets old,” her mother-in-law chimed in.

Ephraim raised his hands to his mouth playing into an imaginary trumpet, and started blowing a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He caught her eye and offered a smile and a wink. She smiled back, lips pursed.

Her father-in-law joined in apparently at the drum part, going “boom, boom” and banging. Debra and her mother-in-law were laughing, her kids were giggling; Shira smiled ’cuz she knew she was supposed to, but really, this wasn’t her speed at all.

“So, who do you like to listen to?” Debra asked Shira.

Was she trying to be friends? Shira didn’t mind; she hadn’t really met anyone yet, not even the other Northwestern wives. And even though Debra was there as her mother-in-law’s guest, she was closer to Shira’s age. They were the same age, surprisingly, though Debra was the friend, niece, or something of the musician her mother-in law’s friend met at a wedding — Jewish connections at their best.

Normally, she wouldn’t understand inviting such a random connection for a Shabbos seudah. People didn’t do that in Brooklyn. Israel and Chicago, it seemed, worked differently. A tenuous connection was enough for an invite, every Jew was family, which was nice in theory, but Shira always felt a little uncomfortable breaking bread with near strangers. Still, she tried; she knew it meant a lot to Ephraim.

“The regular Jewish stuff, whatever’s playing. Benny Friedman, Mordechai Schapiro, Shwekey.” Shira shrugged.

Debra smiled and laughed a little. “Honestly, I don’t know current Jewish music. I’m still kind of stuck in my own world.”

Why couldn’t she be that confident in her lack of knowledge of classical music? Shira wondered, poking at the lonely piece of oyster steak left on her plate. She was stuck in her normal world, where Fried and Leiner reigned. Why was that making her feel inferior?

The seudah progressed, zemiros, dessert, bentshing. Shira bowed out when the nuts and candy were brought out. Dovi needed a nap, or at least she decided that he needed a nap. Now.

Classical music was overrated, but Debra was nice, and if her mother-in-law was pushing lessons for Racheli, at least it was Debra teaching her.

Debra told me she has time in her schedule at two on Mondays and Wednesdays. I would have preferred she had time every day, daily lessons are really the way to go, but I guess that at this age easing into it is not a bad idea. We can just make sure that Racheli gets her practice in.” Eva was master of her domain, seated in the high wingback chair of the family room.

Shira was looking at her like she fell off the moon, while Ephraim was nodding seriously. He got this, Eva knew. He’d taken piano lessons for years, was never any good — she could admit that honestly now — but he still knew his way around the ivories. And really, it wasn’t just about the music; that was a nice result. The instruction was a character building, neural connections party.

“So, we’re set?” Eva asked. She looked to Shira. She knew Ephraim was on board, but she couldn’t tell about Shira. She’d agreed, but seemed bored and unenthusiastic at best.

“One hundred percent. Thanks so much for this, Mommy. Racheli’s gonna love it,” Ephraim said, and for a moment Eva felt like the best mother and grandmother. She threw another glance at Shira. No award from her today.

“My pleasure,” she answered. Eva picked up Noise, put on her reading glasses, and found her place.

Her son was lingering. Eva could feel it. Shira was still around, so whatever he was going to say next couldn’t be that private, otherwise her daughter-in-law would have left. That was how their dance worked, and she was fine with that.

“Ma?” Ephraim finally said.

Eva looked up, flipping the book over to keep place.

“I’m starting school in two weeks.” He paused, and Eva wondered what he was going to ask for next. “It’s going to be a grueling three years, especially the first. You have to be perfect until OCIs are over.”

Eva had no idea what that was, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. He was just being dramatic to make a point, which was…

“I was really hoping to get away with Shira for a few days before I start.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to catch on to something, Eva was more than fine with him going on vacation, what was the big deal? She’d even sponsor it.

Another pause, then, “Can you watch the kids for the week?”

Oh. That. She really couldn’t say anything else other than, “Of course.” Cue big smile.

Eva hoped her son and daughter-in-law didn’t hear the panic in her voice. At least she had Clarissa.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 799)