Night Light
| October 13, 2016“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be married for just two months and have your mother show up at your door in tight pants, with her hair tumbling down her shoulders?”
"If the world is only 5777 years old how come scientists find fossils that are hundreds of thousands of years old?”
The silence after I ask what I think is a reasonable question in Navi is a heartbeat too long. Miss Litwin recovers her composure soon enough. “I doubt this is a question that bothers most of the class Leah,” she says “so why don’t we talk after class?” Miss Litwin goes right back to the Metzudos she was dissecting.
After class I drag myself to Miss Litwin’s desk. She motions for me to sit down. “It’s interesting that your question focused on age of the universe,” she says. “I would have thought your philosophical grappling would be about tzaddik v’rah lo. Or maybe a question about how a benevolent G-d could allow the Holocaust to happen which is an outgrowth of the same question. Something that would get to the core of fairness and justice.” How dare she make all these assumptions?
“Nope,” I say forcing my voice to sound breezy. “Just fossils bother me. I mean aren’t there remains dated at nearly 200,000 years old?”
Miss Litwin stares at me a gaze that seems to look right through me. “Is that what’s really bothering you?” she asks softly. She leans towards me. “The principal told me what’s going on at home. You must be feeling very confused right now.”
I glare at her long and hard. She ignores the look and plows on. “Do you still see your mother regularly? Do you discuss…” she trails off. I guess her continued enrichment classes for the dedicated mechaneches don’t have a module on “How to Talk to a Student whose Mother Went off the Derech.” I’m not about to help her out. I look down at my feet. The gold buckle is falling off the right shoe.
Miss Litwin tries again. “I’m sure you’re confused. But it’s important that you don’t spread this confusion to other girls. You’re welcome to ask me whatever you want after class. Would you like to discuss fossils or is there something else you want to ask?”
“Forget it, forget the fossils,” I say. “Everything is just fine. Can I go now?”
Another X-ray look. Then a slight nod. I stand up and run. I feel her eyes follow me down the hall. I stare at the floor. The buckle on my right shoe is gone. Great, just great.
***
Gila is home when I let myself in, and I’m so glad someone’s in the house that I nearly forget how mad I am at her.
“Hey there,” I say. “I see you finally remembered that you have a family in addition to a husband.”
“And hello to you, too,” she says. “No need to be nasty the minute you walk in the door.”
“I wasn’t—” Oh, what’s the point? “Nice to see a human here at this hour. You staying for supper?”
“Nah, I have to get back before Yossi gets home. I came to pick up some sweaters.”
I notice the wheelie at the door and my heart sinks. Everyone has fled. Gila has Yossi, Shimon is in Eretz Yisrael, and even Moishy managed to escape to some out-of-town yeshivah his rebbi hastily arranged for him after Mommy walked out.
“You coming for Shabbos?” I ask Gila, trying to keep the desperation from my voice.
“No!”
I open the fridge, pour myself a cup of juice, then look Gila in the eye. “Mommy may not be here, but Tatty is. Did it ever dawn on you what Shabbos must be like for him?” My voice drops, and my next words come out in a whisper: “What it’s like for me?”
Gila’s face softens. “Look, Leah, I feel bad. Really. I know Shabbos is hard for both of you. But I’m in shanah rishonah. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be married for just two months and have your mother show up at your door in tight pants, with her hair tumbling down her shoulders? Yossi is a great guy, but this is not what he signed up for. I can’t make things any worse.”
“Well, at least you’re married,” I tell her. “Can you imagine what my shidduch résumé will look like? Father: burnt-out accountant, who spends his spare time in the beis midrash to escape his empty home, Mother: aspiring textile designer putting herself through college by making cold calls for a political pollster, possibly bipolar, definitely not frum. The shadchanim will be running after me.”
“You’ve got some time before you need to worry about it,” Gila says after a long pause. “Just hope things don’t get any worse by then.”
“Thanks, sis, you always know how to cheer me up.”
She slips her fingers into the handle of her wheelie. “Gotta run, Yossi will be home in half an hour and I still didn’t cut up a salad. Hang in there.”
And with a little wave, she’s gone, off to her cozy home and her delicious homemade supper and someone who will sit across from her and talk to her while she’s eating. I stare at the door for a long time, then head to the freezer to find something to eat.
Excerpted from Mishpacha Magazine. To view full version, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE or LOG IN.
Oops! We could not locate your form.
RECOMMENDED
RELATED CONTENT
Now Jacob’s pathetic cries were a mockery, and I trembled, my knees pulled tight up to my chin. I could not, would not hold him in my arms and watch him slip away. Not again
“You need to choose to fight this monster or he’ll get the better of you. You can live a happy life, you can break free of this. The first step is to want to get better.”
Wrinkles are an honor when grandchildren count them. He has his four grandchildren from his son Meir. I, as he’s well aware, am a bubby to no one.
Sometimes you need to play nice, and dumb, and keep your insights to yourself. Sometimes you walk away even when you probably should stay. And you never tell people the answer — they need to get it themselves
“It’s your job, to make her smile, to bring her happiness, and a girl like this, she can use it. You’ll know what you have to do. It’s not as easy as you think, but it’s also not so hard.”
What does that feel like, to be at peace with your lot in life, even if that lot is standing at the corner of Kikar Shabbos and Malchei Yisrael on a cool Jerusalem morning, annoying everyone within a ten-mile radius?
