“Well, number one, you don’t answer your own phone when you’re at work. Number two, it’s your lunch break, and we haven’t seen each other this week, and number three, I happen to know of a chesed emergency.”

Still trying to sound calm and professional, Ahuva said “Oh, yeah, really? A chesed emergency? And what might that be, pray tell?”

“I happen to have inside information that Zichron Zalman’s most dedicated employee is desperately in need of Yo-Yo Yogurts protein-fruit shake to keep her energy up to save the hapless citizens of Beaumont, and I happen to be waiting outside her office to take her to get one right now.”

“You are so sweet,” Ahuva gushed. “But…” She paused. She didn’t want to hurt Yaakov’s feelings, but it was absurd to let him spend so much money on her. Yesterday he’d dropped off lunch for her and left it with Shevy, so she hadn’t even had the chance to protest.  She still felt bad about it.

He was in yeshivah full-time and planned to continue in kollel after their wedding. He certainly couldn’t afford to spend so much. “I forgot I left yesterday’s lunch in the office fridge and made myself lunch again this morning. I’ll bring both out to the car and we can eat together.”

After sliding into the passenger seat of Yaakov’s very yeshivish 2007 silver Camry she waved two Tupperwares in front of him. “Roasted vegetable quinoa salad or salmon and mashed potatoes?”

“Hmm, I guess the salmon. Thanks.” Yaakov reached for the container.

“It’s an occupational hazard that almost all I hear about is bad news.” Ahuva leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing. “I have to focus on all the good being done instead of the suffering. This sounds so corny, but I really mean it — I feel like it’s such a privilege to watch Am Yisrael in action.” She took a few bites of her salad.

“Like, you know that fire last week?” Everyone had heard about the Hartstein fire. Ahuva wasn’t revealing any private information. “Even the things that didn’t burn were damaged by smoke or water. They needed everything, every single thing a family of seven needs just to go to sleep and get ready for the next day, not to mention a place to stay. All they had left was the clothes they’d been wearing that day and the kids had their knapsacks since they’d been at school.

“Whoa,” Yaakov ran a hand through his hair. “I knew it was bad, but I never thought about all those details.”

“Even if insurance pays for everything — which I have no idea if they will — it’s not like they can just snap their fingers and replace an entire household worth of stuff, but within an hour of the fire, we had a place for them to stay, and supper delivered. They had toiletries and pajamas and towels and clothes for the next day. Someone offered to pay for any therapist or social worker they wanted to meet with that same night.”

Yaakov ate quietly, listening.

“I could let myself drown in all the families who have a mother in chemo or a mentally ill father or a sick child or someone getting married without any parents at all. I can list all sorts of tzaros you never even thought of… or I can tell you how many more people came through for them. The high school girls ready to give up their free time to help out, women and men stretching themselves thin to give rides, make meals, to give, give, give. I have to consciously focus on all the good people are doing, but it makes for a beautiful picture.”

Yaakov handed the empty container to Ahuva. “Thanks for lunch. It was delicious, but I feel a little funny eating such good food while you tell me about the misfortunes of the world.”

Ahuva remembered the call from a lady wanting a night nurse there in the middle of all the life-and-death drama and laughed out loud.

Yaakov raised his eyebrows.

Ahuva shrugged. “Oh, nothing, I just remembered I have to ask Shevy to post about a babysitter when I get back to work.”

After she got out of the car, Ahuva leaned over the open door. “And tonight I’m going to pick up my sheitel from the sheitelmacher. I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“Great, so I’ll meet you after work and drive you there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can Uber,” Ahuva called over her shoulder as she walked toward the office.

She knew she was walking back into work with the goofy smile on her face, but she’d given up trying to get rid of it.

Ridiculous or not, at 5 p.m. when Ahuva walked out of the office, Yaakov was waiting for her, keys in hand.

“You know you don’t have to drive me. I’m perfectly capable of taking an Uber,” she said, even as she continued following Yaakov to his car.

“Your lunch break isn’t long enough to be considered our weekly date. Besides, I want to. Just because you can Uber, who says that means you should?” Yaakov opened the car door.

Ahuva knew the answer somewhere deep inside her, somewhere where a 15-year-old did the laundry and made supper and kissed boo-boos for six younger siblings.  Somewhere where she knows you just do and do and do whatever needs to be done. Ahuva knew she didn’t need anyone to do anything for her.

She tried to form the answer as she slid into the passenger seat. “Why would you want to?” she finally managed.

Yaakov glanced at her before slipping his key in the ignition, but said nothing on the drive to the sheitel salon.

“Because I care,” Yaakov said to the empty car after he dropped her off and pulled out of the salon parking lot.

Ahuva shook her head hard, hoping to clear it of the pretty bubbles filled with gowns and flowers and housewares floating around, so she could focus on her job.

She was trying to arrange Shabbos afternoon programming for groups of children with special needs. Mr. Shidowitz had wandered out of his daughter’s house in the middle of the night for the third time and Ahuva had a meeting scheduled with the director of Beaumont’s senior home.

And now that two of Markman’s triplets were finally being discharged from the hospital, it was going to get even more complicated—what with the babies at home, the baby in NICU, and the five kids they already had at home. Ahuva thought about the call the day before for a baby nurse and rolled her eyes. When you have triplets, then I’ll find you a night nurse, lady.

Deeply immersed in her notes, Ahuva jumped when the phone rang. That was the problem with this job; nearly every time the phone rang, it was bad news. But ignoring the phone couldn’t change reality.

Ahuva was good at listening patiently, at letting the caller take the time they needed to articulate their issue. This woman had three small children and her parents and in-laws lived out of town. She and her husband were making Pesach for the first time, and all the kids were off from school. Ahuva braced herself for the bad news that was sure to come. But baruch Hashem there didn’t seem to be any. Ahuva noticed Shevy watching her as she instructed the caller to call closer to the summer and hung up.

Ahuva rolled her eyes. “Next thing you know, they’ll be calling to order sushi.”

“What was that all about?”

“She wants help packing up her apartment or cooking or watching her kids or maybe all three.” Ahuva shook her head.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Shevy.

“Nothing, if there was some reason she needed help, but there isn’t as far as I can tell, baruch Hashem,” Ahuva said. “Can you imagine if every woman in the city called us to help her?” Ahuva’s voice trailed off as she remembered how she’d made Pesach, virtually single-handedly, while she was in high school. After she got the younger kids to bed every night, she’d get to work with the bigger kids.

The house was always ready in time for Pesach, and they had good food too. Nothing fancy, but if some kids could manage to make Pessach, there was no reason why two healthy adults couldn’t.

Ahuva imagined telling Etti Steinhoff that she had no one to watch her children or cook food for Yom Tov while Etti stayed with her husband in hospice, because some lady with a healthy husband couldn’t handle making Pesach without her mommy holding her hand.

She looked up to see Shevy staring. “Do you want me to get that?” Shevy asked.

Ahuva hadn’t even noticed her phone was ringing. “Please. I really don’t think I can hear one more horror story today. Thanks.”

Ahuva ran into work, dumping a bag under her desk.

“Sorry I’m late. I’m gonna have to be more organized and make an actual shopping list once I’m married. I woke up to, legit, absolutely nothing to eat for breakfast,” she called to Shevy as she slid into her desk  and rummaged in the bag for her yogurt.

But Shevy didn’t even seem to notice her, totally absorbed with something on her screen — which was very un-Shevy like.

“Shevs, what on earth are you so busy with?”

Ahuva was surprised to notice that Shevy looked uncomfortable.

“Um, we were thinking about starting a new division, Rothman said they would sponsor, I’m trying to organize it, see what we’ll need kinda thing.” Shevy looked away from her.

Ahuva stared. Since when did Shevy start new projects? Ahuva had always treated Shevy like an equal, but everyone knew she was really Ahuva’s assistant.

“We’re starting an Ezer L’yoledes division. You know, like whatever a new mom would need. Meals, lactation consultants, and maybe arranging a few days rest in a home for new mothers.” Ahuva had never seen Shevy so interested in her fingernails before.

“Rabbi Richman didn’t think you would be interested in a project like this so he asked me to make the arrangements,” Shevy said, finally looking at Ahuva and giving her an apologetic smile.

Ahuva felt a dull ache in her gut. Rabbi Richman thought she wouldn’t be interested in a Zichron Zalman initiative? The ache was quickly replaced by glowing coals. Shouldn’t Rabbi Richman have asked her if she wanted to run the new initiative before he gave it to Shevy? And how could Shevy just accept the job without even asking her if she minded? Or telling Rabbi Richman that she had no business accepting a job that should have gone to Ahuva?

Ahuva bit her lip to keep the angry sparks from escaping.

Hadn’t Rabbi Richman just complimented her the other day on how quickly she filled up her spreadsheets? How on earth could he think she wouldn’t be interested? Had she ever turned down a single project? She was itching to let loose, but didn’t want to seem like a spoiled toddler having a tantrum.

Ahuva worked straight through her lunch break and made sure to be on the phone any time Rabbi Richman came into the office. She knew she was being immature, but at least he wouldn’t know it. Besides, being on the phone was part of her job. Or maybe now she should question what her job even was. At five o’clock she hit save on all files, closed her browser, and shut down her computer.

Shevy coughed nervously as Ahuva grabbed her jacket. “Ahuva, I, um, hope it’s okay that I’m doing this? I didn’t think you would want to deal with such a, um, this kind of chesed. I’m sure if you really want to, Rabbi Richman will be happy to put you in charge. You’re much more organized than I am.”

As if things weren’t awkward enough, at that moment Rabbi Richman walked passed and he’d clearly heard every word.

“Actually, I want Shevy to run the Ezer L’yoledes division. Ahuva is wonderful at what she’s doing already, but this division is not the right fit for her.”

Ahuva rushed out the office door before the pressure behind her eyes gave way.

Yaakov handed Ahuva a box of tissues and turned on the AC. “You know, in six weeks we can have these conversations in our own living room, on our own couch, instead of camping out in my car in your office parking lot.”

Ahuva smiled and slid a tissue over her cheeks. “Can you drive to the other side of the lot? Park there in front of Costco? I don’t want Shevy or Rabbi Richman to see me when they leave the office.”

Yaakov pulled into a spot out of view from Ahuva’s office and turned to her as he cut the motor.

“So, you should be the one in charge of the new division, and Rabbi Richman gave it to Shevy?” Yaakov’s eyebrows knit together.

“No! No. No. No. Well, yes. Sort of.”

Yaakov tilted his face toward Ahuva.

“No, as in, it’s not wrong for Shevy to be put in charge of a division. I mean, a little bit it is. She was hired to be my assistant, so it would be the right thing to at least ask me before giving her the job and maybe Shevy should have asked my permission before taking it… but those are technicalities. The truth is, my plate is already pretty full and Shevy can totally handle doing more. If they would have asked me I would have said yes. The problem is not that they didn’t ask….” Ahuva pressed the tissues against her eyes and clenched her jaw.

“It’s okay if you cry,” Yaakov said quietly.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Ahuva winced as her voice cracked.

Yaakov gave a small laugh. “Would you have agreed to marry me if I wasn’t nice?”

The pressure behind her eyes broke through. Ahuva wiped at her cheeks, but the tears kept falling. “It’s not that they didn’t ask,” she finally said. “It’s that they were both so sure this wasn’t the job for me — like, do you have any idea how many people I help every single day? They were so sure I wouldn’t even want to do this.”

“Well, would you?” Yaakov asked.

Ahuva searched Yaakov’s face for an accusation, but saw none. He was waiting for her honest answer. Is this something she’d want to do?

Ahuva closed her eyes, poked gingerly at her heart, feeling around for the answer.

“It depends. Like, I think it’s a nice idea to, like, help women after birth. I mean, I’ve never had a baby, obviously, but I assume it’s physically draining and all that. It makes sense to send meals and help out with the older kids with, like, babysitting and stuff. But honestly, a lot of what they’re planning to offer sounds over-the-top to me. Why should a woman go to a hotel for a few days if we’re sending her family meals and arranging babysitting for her other kids? Why would we spend community money for it?

“Do you have any idea who we normally help? Every other Zichron Zalman initiative is for people who can’t manage without our help. A mother who’s sick, a parent who passed away, a child in the hospital…. Every single thing we do — until this… this Ezer L’yoledes — is things that people really, really need. Why are we using community resources for things that people can live without?” Ahuva sagged against her seat.

“So, it sounds like you don’t actually want to be involved in this project.”

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting. It feels wrong. No one should be getting help they can manage without. But if Rabbi Richman and Shevy and basically everyone else think it’s not only right but great, then…”

“If they think it’s great and you don’t, then what?” Yaakov said.

“Then I must be wrong,” Ahuva said, pressing the wad of tissues she was holding against her face desperately trying to muffle her sobs.

Yaakov looked out the window, then looked back at Ahuva. “Ahuva, please don’t take this the wrong way, but do you think…

He cleared his throat and continued. “This is just a guess, if it doesn’t resonate with you, forget it.” He waited until Ahuva nodded again before continuing.

“Maybe when your mother had her breakdown and stopped taking care of the family, and your father stayed at the office all day, and little Ahuva had to do everything she and her little brothers and sisters needed… there was no one offering to help and nowhere to turn. You just had to do and do and do and not think. Because if you would have stopped for one moment and thought ‘this is too hard, I need help,’ you would’ve totally fallen apart.

“So without even meaning to, you came to believe that you never need help. And that’s why you never want me to drive you places or take you out. You feel like it’s wrong, like you should just manage without any help. And maybe…maybe that’s why you don’t feel like your organization should be offering those women that ‘extra’ help?”

Ahuva was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said in a small voice, “So you’re saying that if anyone’s doing less than a teenager in a dysfunctional home with six younger siblings, I just expect them to manage?” Ahuva said.

“Maybe,” Yaakov said gently. “But don’t be so hard on yourself. That’s probably where you got the strength to help all the people who are so desperate and you give so much to.”

“Maybe.” Ahuva shrugged and looked out the window.

“I need some groceries,” she said abruptly. “How do I look? Do you think I can run into Costco?”

Yaakov looked at her and laughed. “Honestly? Not unless you want all of Costco to know you’ve been crying. But as we’ve been discussing… would you like to give me your list and let me do your shopping for you?”

“No thanks. I can manage until tomorrow,” she said, but seeing Yaakov was about to protest, she continued. “Not because I won’t accept the help. I just don’t have a list. I need to go up and down the aisles and see what I need. But since I look like a mess, I could use a ride home.”

“It’s a deal.” Yaakov turned the key in the ignition.

The next morning Ahuva gave Shevy a quick smile as she slid into her desk, grateful that Shevy excelled in discretion and would act like yesterday never happened. She tried to organize the day’s tasks, but her conversation with Yaakov kept swimming around in her mind. Could she really feel good about helping anyone who could manage without it? Was chesed only for desperate situations?

Still, Ahuva found herself rolling her eyes when the same woman who had called the week before called again to ask for a baby nurse. Ahuva had sent her high school girls three afternoons last week and it still wasn’t enough for her?

After one of the most unproductive days she could remember, Ahuva headed to the grocery store, hoping she’d be focused enough to get everything she needed. She was trying to decide which size tomato sauce to buy when the sound of a can hitting the floor caused her to turn around.

A woman who couldn’t have been much older than she was was pushing a shopping cart with a baby in the seat and two young children holding on to the sides. The woman bent over to pick up the can.

“Oops, I let the cart get too close to the shelf and Binny grabbed a can,” she said apologetically.

A short time later Ahuva heard a cereal box hit the floor.

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologized again. “I keep pushing off shopping, trying to find a time I can go without the kids and then when I finally give up and go with them, the cart is so full, it’s hard to keep everything out of this little guy’s reach.” She replaced the cereal box, carefully placing it at the far end of the grocery cart.

“I’m huuuuungry!” whined the cute little girl in braids from one side of the cart. The woman quickly scanned her cart and opened a box of granola bars, then gave one to the girl. “I don’t like that kind,” her older brother complained. “I want cornflakes.”

“We’ll be home soon. You can’t eat cornflakes in the store, they’ll spill all over. How about a banana?”

Ahuva felt a bit like she was prying as she kept hearing various packages hit the floor. The woman was clearly getting frustrated. Ahuva didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but it seemed she and this woman had adopted the same pace perusing the aisles. She tried to grab what she needed as fast as possible.

When a package of frozen hot dogs skidded past her feet, Ahuva felt compelled to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Ahuva Shochet. I work in Zichron Zalman at the other end of this complex. I’m not sure that makes me enough of ‘not a stranger’ to trust me with your baby, but if you’d like, he can sit in the front of my cart, while you shop. My cart is a lot emptier than yours.”

Ahuva thought she saw a look of pity cross the woman’s face and made sure to angle her hand in a way that the woman could see her engagement ring. “I’ll hopefully need the practice,” she added.

The woman smiled and settled her baby into Ahuva’s cart. “I’m Hadassa Weiner. Thank you so much. You can’t imagine what a help this is. Maybe while he’s with you, you could have a little chat with him about sleeping at night also.”

Ahuva finished shopping, making sure to keep her cart far enough from the shelves so little Binny couldn’t grab anything. The two other children sounded tired and were kvetchy, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

After checking out, with all her groceries safely bagged, Hadassa picked Binny up, balancing him on her hip, and thanked Ahuva again. Standing this close, Ahuva could see the bags under Hadassa’s eyes.

“He seems like quite a handful.”

“Baruch Hashem,” said Hadassa. “Normal, healthy children are full of energy. Even if their parents aren’t.” She yawned.

Ahuva watched Hadassa leave the store and push her cart to a car, then buckle kids into car seats and load grocery bags into the trunk. As far as she could tell, Hadassa had a perfectly normal life. She certainly wasn’t on any of Zichron Zalman’s lists. But it had seemed obvious she could use some help, and Ahuva had felt good helping her.

She wasn’t sure if she’d use community funds to get her a night nurse, but she certainly wouldn’t roll her eyes or laugh at the idea. Why did she feel comfortable helping Hadassa now, but not that other woman on the phone?

Lost in thought, Ahuva fumbled for her phone, to call an Uber for the way home. Was it that she’d seen Hadassa struggling with her own eyes? Seen a real person in front of her, while the woman on the phone was a vague stranger? A honking horn startled her out of her thoughts.

“Where do you live? Maybe I can give you a ride?” Hadassa had pulled up in front of the bus stop, pointing to the passenger side door. Ahuva was about to say no thanks, she could take a cab, till she saw Hadassa’s eyes, genuine and concerned.

Deliberately, she lifted her head to meet Hasassa’s gaze. She smiled. “A ride would be great. Thanks.” Ahuva opened the car door and climbed inside.  

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 791)