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| Family First Serial |

Half Note: Episode 8     

“I always find it fascinating how people can find pleasure in things I loathe,” her mother-in-law finished

 

“Faulkner said that the work of an artist is ‘to create out of the materials of the human spirit something that did not exist before.’ ” —John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed, Episode 36

Eva sipped at her potato leek soup and looked around the hall. All the attendees seemed very enthusiastic, pointing at the serving ware, the gold circular fixtures — Eva had never even seen that bulb shape before — and admiring whatever fresh feature caught their eyes.

It was really nice for Chicago to finally have a local wedding hall, with Lakewood-style packages. Although unless one of her sons married a Chicago girl, it wouldn’t make a difference to her.

A lump formed in her throat. She’d made two weddings so far, one in Brooklyn, one in Lakewood. Her friends had shown up, community leaders too, but the actual community hadn’t. She understood that then, but only now was she realizing that she’d likely never have the whole community at her wedding. And that she’d always be the boy’s side, second tier on her side of the mechitzah. She’d never hug her sons and dance with them the way she’d seen kallahs and their mothers embrace at the first dance.

At her sons’ weddings, she’d hugged her daughters-in-law when the time came, but the embrace never extended past the arms and chest, there was always a gaping chasm that she never seemed to bridge. She swallowed hard. She had no use for these thoughts and feelings, not now, not ever. She turned to talk to Miriam.

“Did I tell you about my newest project?” Her voice projected an enthusiasm her body didn’t feel yet.

Miram looked up from her soup and raised her brows in a “tell me more” way.

“So, Debra — the cellist you introduced me to — is giving Racheli lessons. It’s the cutest thing, she’s done about four now. Anyway, I had the idea to subsidize lessons for kids in the community so they’d have the gift of music, so it’s not just for the privileged.

“I spoke to Debra, and she’s very excited about the idea. And she knows several other musicians, violinists, clarinetists, pianists, even an opera singer, all frum, who are classically trained and are willing to work at slightly lower rates for the community. We’re going to be having an official meeting in a week or so.”

Eva stopped talking and observed Miriam’s face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked her.

Miriam shrugged. “Nothing, go on.”

Eva knew better, but Miriam would share eventually, so she continued.

“I’ll do the initial funding of the instruments and the lessons, and I’ll fundraise soon. But I also want to involve the schools, I want them to encourage and support the mission. I have to set up a meeting with Rabbi Greissburg. I was thinking of utilizing the Bais Yaakov after hours as a place for the lessons. I want it to be as frictionless as possible for the kids and parents, all they have to do is pick up their kids later.”

Miram was sucking her cheeks now and Eva stopped.

“Tell me,” she said.

Miriam shook her head slightly. “It’s a sweet idea, really.”

“But?” Eva prompted.

“But there are much better ways to spend your money.”

She didn’t say anymore. She didn’t have to; Eva knew the rest of the argument by heart. That’s why it was so easy for her parents to cut back on her music lessons when the going got tough — it wasn’t a priority. But for people who play music, it’s more than a priority, it’s a life source. Why didn’t people get that?

“Everyone has their pet chesed, this is mine.”

Miriam opened her hand and gestured. “Eva, is it even chesed?”

Eva shook her head, she wasn’t going to answer, Miriam had obviously never done a creative thing in her life if she thought that. Of course it was a chesed, and she’d show the community its worth.

The intro music started. The choices these kids went with these days, she could barely stand it. They had no concept of what music could do beyond making you literally vibrate.

The kallahs’ friends were lining up with arches. Eva looked down the line till she saw the chassan’s and kallah’s mothers holding hands and swaying with the music. She looked around at the other woman, she knew almost all of them, most of the Chicago community had come, although the chassan was from L.A.

This chassan’s mother was just like her, she thought. She usually avoided first dances and only stepped in once the mothers broke off to form their own circles. Tonight she joined the early throngs and found a place close to the chassan’s mother.

S

hira rubbed her eyes. Tired, she was very tired. She sat at the island spooning yogurt into Dovi’s mouth, though there were near misses and actual misses, with the spoon hitting his nose.

“Rough night?” Clarissa asked as she unstacked the dishwasher.

Shira yawned and shrugged.

“I dunno, I don’t think it’s much worse than any other bad night, but I’m just exhausted.”

As she spoke, she realized two things — first was that she usually had Ephraim to tag team, but he’d been completely absentee since school started. He’d actually asked last night if she minded if he stayed out later because they were starting a study group session. What was she supposed to say? So she said yes.

The second was that Clarissa was the only one to pay any attention to her. She hadn’t even seen Ephraim this morning, and her mother-in-law had been in the kitchen for just a moment — grabbed her coffee, smiled and nodded at everyone and no one, then waltzed to the den to commune with her podcasts and books. Why didn’t she care about her?

“You can go back to bed, I’ll watch the kids,” Clarissa offered.

Shira’s mug hit the counter with a clunk.

“What?”

Clarissa smiled. “You heard. Go back to bed. The kids are dressed and fed already, they just need a little supervision.”

Shira smiled, grateful, but she didn’t want to go back to bed. Her sheitel was on, she was dressed.

“Can’t accept a little help?” Clarissa asked.

“I appreciate it, but I’d rather power through and not go to bed. It’ll mess up my schedule.”

“So go out for two, three hours, I got this. Kids are hard and you’re home with them all day.”

Why did the help get it, and no one else?

“Bless you, Clarissa.”

She brushed off her skirt and went back to her bedroom to freshen up and get her bag.

She did need some new maternity stuff, she told herself as she reapplied mascara. Her old stuff, was, well, old and it was also still in storage. Where to go was the question, and her stomach dropped at the thought.

Be a big girl and ask your mother-in-law, she told herself. She took a deep steadying breath and called upon all the episodes of Brave and Kind with DeeDee Dvorkus to give her the strength to ask her mother-in-law a simple question.

Shira found her mother-in-law in her favorite wingback chair in the den, conducting her life, or whatever it was she was so busy with.

“Maternity clothes?” Her mother-in-law repeated after Shira. “I have no clue. I can call up Rachel, my personal shopper. She can probably find you a good selection in a day or so.”

“Thanks, but I enjoy shopping, picking things out, putting outfits together, y’know. I’ve only used a personal shopper for occasions, not my regular wardrobe.”

“Oh.” Her mother-in-law mouth formed the letter perfectly. Shira wasn’t sure if she was being judged or if she said something novel.

“I find shopping boring and a waste of time, that’s why I delegate it to Rachel,” her mother-in-law stated.

It was Shira’s turn to go “Oh.”

“I always find it fascinating how people can find pleasure in things I loathe,” her mother-in-law finished.

Shira wasn’t sure how to respond. Did her mother-in-law realize she was in the minority?

“Yeah, well. Thanks, anyway.”

“Enjoy yourself,” her mother-in-law said, and waved.

Was it sad, Shira wondered, that she felt unexpected affection in that?

Shira went to the car, she’d figure out where to go.

Best place to buy tzniyus maternity? She texted the Northwestern Wives chat.

Bina: Target had the cutest maternity dresses last season. Totally tzniyus you should check it out

Danielle: Yes! Also check the regular dresses, the prairie loose style can fit for maternity

Target? Seriously? She’d forgotten who she was asking. Again the isolation creeped in. She tapped Mall into waze. Something Old Orchard popped up. Maybe some store would have modest maternity section. Worst-case scenario: buy more shoes.

to be continued…

 

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 804)

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