Rivi takes a breath. Composes herself. Tries not to think about her ruined cholent for a moment and is instead struck with the one-two punch of Tatty’s death and the police swabbing her cheek for DNA because nothing in this world can ever be easy or simple. Thinks about the cholent again, then focuses on her sister-in-law.

“I just got up from shivah, Suri. I didn’t really plan to take a week off from work. There’s no way I can take a weekend off for a party.”

“It’s not a party,” Suri says scornfully. “Why do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?”

Stupid question. It just invites Suri’s ire. “You treat everything you do like it’s so important and act like the rest of us are just wasting away our days. This is for Ma and Ta! Our husbands’ parents! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

She takes a breath, enough time for Rivi to interject, “Of course it does, but—”

“Especially you,” Suri says sharply. “They took you into their family and treat you like a daughter. They don’t question your background or your career.” No questioning, just disapproving stares and probing comments, the slightest reminders that Rivi is an outlier.

Rivi’s mother-in-law is very polite, but she has never made any secret of the fact that she thinks her son bears too much of the burden of the housework. Ta would never think of cooking for me, she says often, caught between horror and a hint of envy. Ezra watches the kids most Sundays? she’d asked in disbelief, before recounting the weekend outings that she’d taken with her brood when they were little. Her life has always revolved around her husband and children, and now her grandchildren.

“What do you want, Suri?” Rivi says wearily. “I’m paying my share.” Ezra had also sent over Suri’s share via her husband, but she knows better than to mention that to Suri. She is so proud of her husband, of her comfortable lifestyle, and things are starting to look up for Avi at work. In a few more months, maybe a year, he should be back on his feet. “Ezra and the kids are coming, and that’s what Bobby really wants. I’m not exactly fun.”

Suri, she’s sure, will have a blast without Rivi present. Few things make Suri happier than resenting Rivi in peace.

“You’re a part of this family,” Suri says, icy-cold. “You can’t pay your way out of every event. You’d rather have Ezra and your kids go up alone, without you for a whole Shabbos? How do you think that’s going to feel for them, like their mother doesn’t care enough to spend the weekend with them? Like her job is more important than they are?”

That lands like a punch to Rivi’s gut. The twins are getting older, are getting better at expressing their needs. Blimi cried when Rivi got home late from work on Wednesday after a week of her being present every evening. Shimmy won’t understand, will ask, “Can’t you just ask your boss for a few days with us?” Meir will lift his chin and pretend he’s okay.

And Ezra… worst of all, Ezra will just shake his head and say, “Well, we’ll miss you,” because he’s used to this. This is what Rivi does, dodges obligations in favor of work, then lets the crushing weight of letting someone down bear down on her shoulders. Would it really make such a difference if she went with them, if she got in some work in her room, and played outside with the children the rest of the time? If she tried her best for a weekend to satisfy Ezra’s family?

“Look,” she says. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll discuss it with Ezra and get back to you.”

She can almost hear Suri’s satisfaction oozing through the phone. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” she says. “We would so love to have you there. It’s never the same without you.” In victory, she can be gracious. “And if you need to skip some of the outings to work, I’m sure that’ll be fine. Eliana has some college work to take care of, too.”

By the time Rivi gets off the phone, she’s drained and uncertain, and she has given up on focusing. Her cold cholent languishes on the counter, another testament to her inadequacy, but in this — as in all things when she isn’t enough — she can ask for help from one person.

She sends a text — call me when you have a chance — and Ezra calls her almost immediately. Rivi feels a flush of relief and dread as she hears his voice. He’s still unhappy with her for concealing the situation with the wrong body in the grave, though she doesn’t think that’s fair. It wasn’t like she’d actively kept it from him. She just hadn’t mentioned it. Is it so terrible to keep something so irrelevant from her husband?

Ezra seems to think so. He hasn’t argued with her, but there’s a chill in the air, a tension that Rivi picks up whenever they’re alone together. On the phone, he only sounds concerned. “Is everything all right?”

She feels suddenly foolish. “It’s so stupid,” she says, “but I think I might’ve forgotten to turn on the crockpot this morning. Any chance you noticed if it was on before you left?”

Ezra ponders. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was a hectic morning. Shimmy’s bus never came and I wound up driving him in.” He pauses, and Rivi can hear him walking into a stairwell, the hollow sound of a door shutting behind him. “Do you want me to run home during recess and check on it?”

It’s too much, too gracious, and Rivi suddenly wants to sob at how good Ezra is. How, even when he’s frustrated with her, there are no recriminations for her mistake, no irritation. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. This was my mistake. If it’s not cooked, maybe I can fish out the meat and bake it in the oven when I get home so it can go back in the crockpot before Shabbos. I’ll find a way to fix it. It was such a ridiculous— I’ve been so stressed about work lately, and I was worried I’d miss my train, and I just didn’t think—”

“Rivi,” Ezra says gently. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out. It’s not a big deal.”

But it feels like a big deal to her, and she blinks away moisture in her eyes and forces her voice to be even. “You’re right,” she says, and she sucks in a breath. “We’ll figure it out. Thanks, Ezra. I really… I really appreciate that.” She says that instead of you, too vulnerable already, and when she hangs up the phone, she’s shaking.

She needs to work.

The cholent still haunts her, and she can hardly focus on the deposition. Maybe they can put it in the oven in a pan for an hour. The mausoleum didn’t have any space left for more relatives after Abba. Suri will be insufferable if Rivi shows up at the getaway. Will Penina and Daniel come for Shabbos meals while Gabe is still in town? The meat needs to be cooked in the cholent liquid to be soft and tender. The thoughts whirl through her mind, reaching a frenzy of panicked indecision, and she drops her head to her desk and breathes, in and out, as slowly as she can manage.

Her phone buzzes again, and she snatches it up. “Ezra?”

“Mrs. Greenberg,” says an official-sounding voice. “This is Detective Jimenez from the Lenape Falls Police Department. I just wanted to give you an update on the DNA results.”

“Oh.” Rivi sits back in her seat, her voice going strong and businesslike by rote. “Have you found anything about the body?”

“It’s more irregular than we’d thought,” Detective Jimenez admits. “There’s no match whatsoever between your DNA and the body’s, though we were sure it was a relative. We’re putting the paperwork through to do a wide-scale testing of all the DNA samples and cross-reference them until we get to the bottom of this. We’d also like to test your father and use an old sample of your grandmother’s DNA, with your consent.”

“Sure. Fine.” Whatever will get this over and done with. Rivi is hit by an incredible wave of exhaustion. “I just need to talk to my rabbi first.”

She makes phone calls and signs forms, and she’s just glad to be busy. By the time she finishes with them, it’s already past ten, and she has gotten almost no work done.

But her phone buzzes again, and it’s a picture from Ezra. He had gone home during recess. The crockpot is on, set to high, with six hours left on its timer. Rivi had turned it on after all, has been stressed over nothing. All good, he says. You’re the best.

She exhales, the stiffness draining from her body. She sends a thankful emoji in response and returns to work.

But without the cholent to worry about, Suri’s words taunt her with every keystroke. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 904)