“I’m going to take you to the girls’ school so I can show you the arrangement we have with the school schedule and the lessons we give, but that’s later. First we’re going to sit in on the orchestra’s practice. They’re working on a chamber piece today for the concert in two months.” Devorah Shira reached over and placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder. “You’re going to love it.”

Surprisingly, Devorah Shira had Avraham Fried playing in the car. Eva must’ve unconsciously pulled a face because Devorah Shira gestured at the dashboard.

“His English songs just speak to my neshamah.”

Eva nodded, it probably made sense.

Devorah Shira drove fast and erratically, but slowed down considerably after she made a right.

“Almost there, but there are a ton of speed cameras on Park Heights.” She made a left and parked in front of an imposing house.

“The acoustics in this dining room are to die for.”

They entered the house, and Eva was immediately caressed by the high notes of the violin, underscored with the urgency of the cello.

“Schubert,” Eva said.

“Bingo,” Devorah Shira said as she smiled and led Eva through the house.

The music was haunting and beautiful, and the moment Eva laid eyes on the women, two in mitpachot, one in a band fall, and the fourth in a full sheitel, these beautifully frum women, playing their hearts out, she didn’t need to see anymore.

She didn’t need to see the school schedule and how they coordinated with the community events. She didn’t have to think of Miriam’s wagging finger, There are better ways to spend your money. She knew. Chicago needed to experience this, to see what frum women can do, what their kids will be able to do, to hear how beautifully evocative music can be.

Chicago was going to get a concert.

***

That was once, this was twice. Dovi was really vomiting. He’d been a bit off for the last day or so, Shira couldn’t pinpoint it, but now something was definitely wrong.

The first incident was in the kitchen on the tiles. Clarissa’s face said it all. She was sweet, but sick kids were not in her job description.

“Take him to bed,” Clarissa had said.

Big mistake. Now she had linens to change, but maybe that was better than scrubbing white carpet.

Dovi felt clammy, and maybe warm, she couldn’t tell, and her mother-in-law didn’t have a thermometer. He was limp, he wasn’t eating, she needed a doctor. But who? She brought him to the en-suite bathroom and sat with him on the floor, the handle of the vanity digging into her back and the cold tiles cooling her bare feet. Dovi sat at her side with a resigned whimper.

Text Ephraim? But he was in school, and was fanatic about not checking his phone in class. By the time he’d see it, everything had better be taken care of. Her mother-in-law was in Baltimore, her father-in-law, ha! In Israel her neighbor who had ten kids under 12 and had seen everything would have told her it was nothing, calmed her down, and helped her out. But she was far, far away from her current life.

She hastily texted the Northwestern Wives group.

Can anyone recommend a dr? My kid’s vomiting a lot, I don’t know what’s wrong

Dr. Grinber takes Medicaid but I’m not sure if he’s accepting new patients now.

He’s not! You need pull to get into him now. Bina’s been helping me

You can always go to the emergency room, and when you get approved for Medicaid they’ll pay retroactively

They didn’t remember. Shira felt both relieved and annoyed.

I don’t specifically need someone who takes Medicaid, is there anyone else you can recommend?

Dr. Mihdman accepts Medicaid. People don’t love him, but he’s fine in a pinch.

Did they not hear her? Understand her? Did anyone have a private insurance plan? She just wanted someone to check her baby.

Her phone pinged.

Danielle private messaged her.

My neighbor works as a receptionist for Dr. Smithson. He’s an excellent pediatrician, I’ll see if she can squeeze you in.

Bless Danielle.

Worst comes to worst there are doctors in the community who’d totally see him pro bono. I’ve had that. It’s the most amazing thing.

That did sound nice, for a community to look after their own like that. But what about the care she needed? Was her form of support so hard to come by? Shira brushed her fingers through Dovi’s damp hair mindlessly.

What should she do? Wait for a response from Danielle? Google symptoms? Call her mother-in-law? Maybe text Ephraim?

Why did he have to get sick, why now, of all times, why couldn’t it happen at night with Ephraim home? Why couldn’t her mother-in-law be around, even if she was never fully present? Ephraim must have gone to a pediatrician growing up, who did he go to?

And then she kicked herself.

Why didn’t you find a doctor right away? Of course kids need doctors, they get sick all the time.

She stroked Dovi’s face and pushed his bangs to the side. Was he lethargic? This was not okay. A surge of panic and adrenaline seized her; she stood, gently leaning Dovi’s slumped head against the vanity.

But then she stopped again. Who could she call, who could actually help her? There was a pain in her nose that signaled tears. She yawned to stop them. She was a big girl, she could handle this. She opened her phone and flicked her finger, her contacts scrolling by faster than she could view them. She felt pathetic and alone.

She tried taking a deep breath, but her mind and body were not cooperating. And where was Racheli? With Clarissa?

The phone rang.

Danielle.

“Hello?” Shira tried to sound calm and composed.

“Hey, how’s the kid?” Danielle didn’t wait for a reply, “Dr. Smithson can squeeze you in at 3. Try to be there early. And if you like him, you’re already in the system and they can’t say no.”

Longest exhale ever.

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” Shira said.

“It was nothing, I didn’t even have to call my neighbor, we did the whole thing over voice notes.”

“Still,” Shira insisted.

Later that early evening, after Dovi had been diagnosed as dehydrated, had enjoyed many Pedialyte freeze pops, the kids were in bed, and she had a pediatrician with a nice office for her kids, Shira waited for Ephraim to come home. She was ready for some sympathy and adult company.

She sat in her mother-in-law’s wingback chair, now she knew why the woman spent half her life there, it was sooo comfy. A throw blanket was draped across her lap.

Ping.

Hey, meant to text you earlier. The study group is meeting, we’re gonna start working on our paper. You’re ok with that right?

She wasn’t even surprised at how fast the tears came and she didn’t even try her yawn trick. The wingback obscured her face, but who cared, there was no one there to see her.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 805)