"I told them the computer is in a locked room, and she’d have no access to any devices. But Gedalya wouldn’t let her come. He’s too much of a tzaddik”

"Baruch haba,” Nechami says, welcoming Dudi into her office.

Her brother, tall and strong, sits down on a plastic chair and winces. “You could use some nice low armchairs here,” he remarks.

“And a lot of other things too,” she agrees, showing him the list she’s made. “Little by little, the bird builds her nest. Every month I put some money aside for furnishing and decorating this place. This week we painted the walls.”

He stands up and scrutinizes the birds, running a finger over the metallic paint, feeling its texture. He’s impressed. He sits down again, with a heavy sigh.

“I thought you’d come with Yaffa’le,” she says. “Weren’t you talking about a family evening in Jerusalem?”

“We talked about it.” His face hardened. “I wanted to go out somewhere with her, after we worked on the booklet here with you. But we couldn’t get a babysitter.”

“Oysh. That’s hard.” She remembers what that was like. The nights, mainly the nights. No babysitter was willing to come and watch three babies who cried nonstop. It seemed like every week at least one of them had an ear infection, or was teething, or had some nasty old virus in their poor little tummy. Even if she managed to get a babysitter, she’d usually be summoned home early because somebody was vomiting or screaming. In winter, the winds rattled the windows, and in summer, the bright evenings beckoned her to go out with friends, but she was shackled to the house, a lonely prisoner without parole. Shua learned till 1 a.m., and he was happy.

“Very hard.” Dudi’s face takes on a blank expression. “When your own brother won’t send his daughter over to you, that’s really hard.”

“You mean Gedalya?”

“Yup.”

“Well, maybe Tovi has schoolwork, or a test,” she says, groping for an explanation. She was used to being the family sponge. Tomorrow she’d be hearing from Shifra about Dudi’s chutzpah, asking her to send Tovi over to babysit. “To that house, with all those books and devices and electronics, they want me to send my daughter? No, thank you!”

“She doesn’t have a test,” Dudi said flatly. “Tovi would have loved to come. And I promised to drive her home afterward, right to the door. I told them the computer is in a locked room, and she’d have no access to any devices. But Gedalya wouldn’t let her come. He’s too much of a tzaddik.”

“That hurts,” Nechami says. Yet she understands the other side, too, so well that it hurts equally.