Poor Shevy, she’d been so happy to have a sister to rely on, and that sister was proving far too wrapped up in her own life to help out 

Mimi: I want to be there for my sister, but not at the expense of my husband or my health.

Tzipora: Your sister was just there for you when you were stranded. Can’t you be there for her now?

Tzipora

Sending a daughter for a year in Eretz Yisrael is never simple. There’re the applications and the registration, there’s the shopping and shopping and more shopping, there’s the tickets and the arrangements and a hundred long-distance phone calls, and did I mention the shopping? But when you throw Covid regulations into the mixture as well, you end up like I did at the end of this summer: with a pounding, splitting headache.

“Tell me again, what did the seminary say we need to provide?”

Shevy rattled off the details. “A PCR test. I have to take it within 72 hours of takeoff, and they said to make sure there’s a passport number on the results. And we also need to fill out a form online, and book a Covid test for when we land in Ben Gurion, and...”

We got the PCR. We filled out a bunch of forms (the first few, apparently, we did wrong, and we had to start again). We paid for another test. Made a few frantic phone calls to the seminary office. Reviewed the list ten times, double-printed every piece of paperwork, and hoped that we hadn’t missed anything.

And I’d thought it would be easier, doing this the second time around.

I told that to my married daughter, Mimi, early the next morning. It was mid-afternoon for her, the perfect time to schmooze. But I didn’t call just to chat, I wanted to enlist Mimi’s help in organizing a few things for Shevy when she arrived. A nice nosh basket, and something for Shabbos, a case of bottled water — everything was so much easier to arrange with someone “on the ground” to help out. Last time around, everything had been much more complicated — even just getting someone to leave Mimi a welcome package had taken a couple days of calling around. On the other hand, when it had been Mimi’s turn, there was none of this PCR or quarantine stuff to worry about.

“Remember when you went to seminary, Mim?” I asked. “The biggest problem we had was how to get all your stuff into the suitcases. Now, there’s all the crazy paperwork, quarantine, rules changing... I don’t even know if we’ll be able to visit in the winter.”

“Mmm,” Mimi said. She sounded distracted.

“But still, Shevy’s lucky that she’s going this year. Remember the year after you were in seminary, when everyone had to leave before Pesach? And besides, this year she’s got you there. Isn’t it amazing? You didn’t have any close family there when you went, remember how hard it was at first, trying to get Shabbos invitations?” I smiled at the memories: calling up my second cousin Golda who only spoke Hebrew, trying to wrangle meal invitations for my daughter and her friends. Shevy really was lucky — having a sister living not too far away from her dorm would be a real boon.

“I... it wasn’t so bad,” Mimi said, suddenly perking up. “I mean, no one wants to eat by the same family all the time, anyway. I had a blast that year, I met so many new people, and besides, the experience of seeing how people live here, up close... you can’t compare that to hanging out in your sister’s apartment all the time.”

I blinked. “Of course she’ll have other experiences,” I said. “It’s just the comfort of knowing you have someplace to go, a family member to rely on... sometimes, dorm life gets a bit much for everyone. Especially Shevy, you know she’s on the quieter side.”

“We’re excited to see her,” Mimi said, then she yawned. “Sorry, Ma, I’m gonna go have a nap here before Nosson comes home for supper.”

It was only after the line disconnected that I remembered what I’d called her about. Never mind, I could ask her to pick up the nosh and water tomorrow. A Shabbos package wouldn’t be complicated either — she could call and order from one of those places that did deliveries, she had my credit card details.

“Ma? Did you see my skirt anywhere, the tiered one with the flowers, you know — we got it in that sale...?” Shevy had a pile of clothing over one arm and a long, handwritten list tucked under her chin. “I’ve been looking all over.”

“Go pack what you have, and I’ll check the laundry again,” I told her.

"I can’t believe the flight is tomorrow,” Shevy confided in me, the night before she was leaving. Her suitcases were packed and weighed, her passport ready, and we finally had a chance to talk. I smiled at her.

“I’m so excited for you. There’s nothing like seminary in Eretz Yisrael. You’ll have an amazing year.”

“I hope so,” Shevy murmured. Her tone was slightly apprehensive. “I mean, I’m excited too. It’s just... like, strange, to think I won’t be home for almost a year.”

“But you’ll have Mimi there, at least,” I reminded her. She smiled.

“That’s true. I don’t know what I’d do otherwise.”

“Lots of girls don’t have family there. You would figure it out, like Mimi did.”

Shevy shrugged. “I’m glad I won’t have to.”

It really had worked out well. I’d actually wondered whether it would — Mimi and Nosson had been stuck back here for a while, and had only just managed to get the paperwork they needed to return to Israel. They’d come for Pesach, and then they’d had trouble with getting back, something about Nosson’s visa expiring.

So Mimi had stayed for one month, then another, sleeping in the room she and Shevy had shared before she got married, while Shevy camped out with the younger girls. In the end, after many tries, they’d figured something out, gotten their permits or whatever it was, and boarded a plane back to Israel. I knew they were glad to be back.

I was glad, too. It’s nerve-wracking, sending a child off to Israel for a year. Having an older child there is kind of like a security blanket. I could relax, knowing that Shevy would have somewhere to fall back on if she needed anything.

She was a good kid, Shevy. She didn’t ask for much, but I knew she was nervous about going so far for such a long time. The knowledge that she could go over to a familiar place and have a home-cooked meal, or an open invitation for Shabbos, or somewhere to do her laundry in peace, was a savior for her.

“Give Shevy a hug from me when you see her,” I told Mimi, my voice a little choked up, as we drove home from the airport.

She laughed. “She’ll be fine, Ma. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Sometime the next day, Shevy’s new Israeli number finally came up on my phone screen.

“Ma?” She sounded tired but jubilant. “I’m here! I mean, we arrived a few minutes ago, I just have to — hold on a second.” The sound went muffled, and then the line cleared again. “Sorry. It’s crazy here. I just put my suitcases up in my room and I was looking for somewhere quiet to call you...”

She went on for a few minutes, about the flight and the girls she met and her room and the roommate from Belgium who knew our neighbors (“Can you imagine, Ma? Of all people she asks me about, it’s the Katzes from down the block.”)

“Oh, and Ma, thanks so much for the nosh. Someone left the package in the front hallway, I saw it when I arrived. Looks amazing, and I’m so hungry...”

“You can thank Mimi, she’s the one who arranged it,” I said, glad that had worked out. “And you got the water, too?”

“Water?” she asked. “Actually, I was just about to ask you about that, I know you said you were gonna get someone to deliver, I didn’t see any water though. Maybe someone else took it? I don’t know. Anyway, we need to quarantine, and the water here,” she lowered her voice. “I feel bad, the eim bayit was trying to convince us all that it’s okay, but my roommate drank it and she was sick last night, and I just really would rather stick with bottled, you know?”

“Give me a second, I’m calling Mimi,” I said. “She said she’d take care of it. I’m sure it’s there somewhere.”

But Mimi didn’t answer the phone. I left her a message and called Shevy back.

“It’s fine, Ma, in the meantime my friend Chava has extra, I’ll be okay,” she told me. “Just, when Mimi has it, I’m waiting, kay?”

I called Mimi again, without success. I was frustrated — what on earth had happened? She said she’d do it, what was going on?

“I’m sorry about the water bottles, Ma, I just — Nosson’s gonna pick them up today and I’ll go deliver them right after,” she told me the next day, when she finally called back. “I know she’s waiting...”

But when Shevy called me before Shabbos, she was still waiting for her water. “The food came, though, the stuff that you ordered me. Thanks a million!”

“Enjoy it,” I told her. Then I made a note to check about the water when I spoke to Mimi. How complicated was getting a case of water for her sister? Had she just forgotten about it?

Mimi did bring Shevy her water — on Tuesday, almost a week after she’d arrived.

“Yeah, it just didn’t work out until today,” Mimi told me.

It just didn’t work out?

“So, did Shevy tell you she has an ‘out’ Shabbos this week?” I asked, deciding it was safer to change the subject.

“Yeah,” Mimi yawned. “She did. I told her I’ll let her know later on about coming to us for meals. I need to figure out what we’re doing this week.”

This time, I couldn’t keep quiet. “I think Shevy was kind of relying on you,” I said carefully. “She doesn’t have any other family, you know... and besides, she’s excited to see your apartment, spend time with you.”

“I’m excited too,” Mimi said, unconvincingly. “I just, you know, need to discuss it with Nosson. Anyway, I better run. Love you, Ma!”

I blinked down at the phone.

“So, how was Shabbos?” I asked Shevy. It was 1 a.m. Motzaei Shabbos, and Shevy’s day was just starting.

“Nice,” she said. “I mean, it was quiet, you know... I ate by Mimi both meals, but she didn’t want a lot of guests, so I didn’t bring friends. Whatever. It was good to have somewhere to go, my roommate ended up being placed by this random family where the kids all used their fingers to serve themselves food, she couldn’t touch a thing.”

My mind stuck on the earlier part of the sentence. “I thought you were going to bring your roommate with you to Mimi. What happened?”

Shevy made the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “I don’t know. She asked me to come alone. It was fine, really, I just felt bad for my roommate... I mean, I want to invite friends anyway, but Mimi said it was too much. So, whatever. Maybe next time.”

Too much for her... there she went again. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what this was about. If there was good news on the way, no one would be more excited than me. But — still. Mimi couldn’t accommodate one more person? It would’ve been so nice for Shevy to bring a friend.

“I just don’t like to be the one who goes to her sister and doesn’t offer anyone to come, and then the next week begs everyone for invitations,” Shevy said. “A few girls asked me if I had a place, and I had to turn them all down...”

I remembered Mimi and her seminary friends, all the meals they went to together. Sari’s grandmother and Tova’s brother and sister-in-law, Malki’s cousins on Sorotzkin and Nechama’s aunt in Ezras Torah. Didn’t she remember that?

“Maybe next time, you can just ask her again,” I told Shevy. “I mean, how much extra work is one friend, if she’s already inviting you?”

“Oh, there was a ton of food,” Shevy said. “I was surprised because she kept saying she wasn’t sure she wanted to host. But there was so much stuff, and her apartment is stu-un-ning, with this huge mirpeset off the dining room...”

I laughed. I’d seen pictures of the apartment, of course, but hearing about it through Shevy’s lens was fun.

“I’m sure you’ll spend plenty of time there,” I said.

She did — sort of. Shevy started going over on Thursday nights, ostensibly helping out for Shabbos (read: doing laundry and enjoying the break from dorm life). “It was amazing, I really needed a quiet place to work on this project,” she told me. Or, “A group of us wanted to bake a cake for my friend’s birthday, so I asked Mimi if we could do it by her.”

I was happy that it worked out. We were renting a large two bedroom apartment for Mimi and Nosson, in a beautiful apartment building — it was spacious and airy and I was happy she was able to use it to host others, especially Shevy and her friends.

But then there were other times. More than once, Shevy called me in desperation to help her find a Shabbos meal invitation (Mimi wanted “a quiet Shabbos,” apparently). In fact, after that first solitary Shabbos invitation, she hadn’t had Shevy over for a meal at all. And when I asked Mimi to help Shevy fill out some paperwork online, she asked if it could wait a week. Another time, Shevy knocked on Mimi’s door one night and Mimi was upset that she hadn’t called first to check.

“We were just in the area, doing some shopping, and I wanted to get a drink and say hi,” Shevy said when she told me about it. Her voice was affronted. “I mean, I’m family.”

I was upset, too. Couldn’t Mimi be there for her sister? Especially a sister who gave up her bedroom for the young couple for weeks on end last year. Shevy hadn’t made conditions and bargains and sometimes-yes-sometimes-no.

And then came Yom Tov. And the Great Meal Scheduling Experience.

“I’m going with Rina the first night, her uncle has this huge open-house situation in his succah, there’s a ton of guests and apparently, the singing is like out of this world,” Shevy told me. “And then in the day, four of us are going to Pessie’s cousin, she’s a food columnist and her cooking is reaaaallly good. One of my teachers invited us for the second night and the last meal, we’re gonna figure it out. Then Shabbos Chol Hamoed...”

“You’re not going to Mimi at all?” I asked. I was happy that Shevy had plans, but maybe Mimi could help her out with that last meal she was trying to fill.

“Oh, she invited us for the first day, but I had a meal already,” Shevy said. “I told her I’d rather come last days. We don’t have anyone then. She said she’ll let me know. So if that works out for the night and day, we’re all sorted.”

I made a mental note to check in with Mimi about the meals. Maybe she didn’t remember how hard it had been for her, trying to find meals for each night and day, including Yom Tov Sheini.

“I just don’t want to keep asking her,” Shevy said hesitantly, just before she hung up the phone. “Like, she said she’d get back to me...”

I felt frustration rise in my stomach. Poor Shevy, she’d been so happy to have a sister to rely on, and that sister was proving far too wrapped up in her own life to help out — or even to give her a final answer about the meals!

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask her,” I said.

“…not going to work out.”

The line wasn’t so clear, but I’d heard enough. “For Shevy to come Simchas Torah? Not at all? I think she was really relying on you for the meals. It’s hard to find meals for second day Yom Tov in Eretz Yisrael.”

“Yeah, I know, I would love to help out. It’s just... first days would’ve worked for us better.”

“I think Shevy was hoping you’d be able to have her for the meals that she didn’t get other invitations for,” I said as delicately as I could. To be honest, I was getting very frustrated. Here I had Shevy, who just needed some family to be there for her when she was struggling, and Mimi — whose time in Eretz Yisrael was being served up on a silver platter, courtesy of our credit cards — wouldn’t help out.

Was there a simchah on the way? Maybe, maybe even probably, but what were we asking her to do, anyway? Have her sister and a friend over in her luxury apartment. I would take care of the food, if need be.

“I know the cooking and everything can get a bit much,” I told Mimi, confident that this would solve the problem. “So, I just want to help both of you out. I’m really happy to pay for you to buy ready-catered food, order in a beautiful Yom Tov meal, and then you can have the girls over without it being a burden on you.”

“Wow, Ma, that’s so nice of you,” Mimi said. She sounded uncomfortable. “I mean, it’s not really that... we’re going away for last days of Yom Tov. I planned it with Nosson a while back. So it really doesn’t work out for us to host Shevy and her friends.”

If I could tell Mimi one thing, it would be: Family comes through for each other — like Shevy did for you. You’re getting the gift of living in Eretz Yisrael. Can’t you use the opportunity to help your sister when she needs you?

Mimi

Shevy’s coming next week,” I told Nosson. He was rummaging in the freezer, looking for something. “Ooooh — sorry. The bread’s on the table. I took it out before.”

“You ate something?”

“Yeah, a little. Then I got nauseous again. Forgot to put the bread back.”

Which wasn’t surprising, considering the clutter in the kitchen. I kept promising myself I would clean up, once and for all, but then I would get too tired, or the smell of whatever takeout Nosson picked up would make me gag, and I’d end up sprawled on the sofa again.

“No problem.” Nosson hummed as he opened a tin of tuna. Poor guy. I hadn’t cooked a meal in almost a month.

“So anyway, my sister. She’s starting seminary soon. It’ll be nice to invite her over for a meal — if I feel up to hosting.” I winced. Everyone talked about things getting easier in the fourth month, but I had ages to go until then. And since we weren’t sharing our news just yet, I couldn’t even talk to anyone about it.

We hadn’t even been back in the country very long. Nosson’s student visa had expired while we were in the States for Pesach, and getting a permit to go back had been a mission of a few months. It was good to be back, but I missed my family. It would be nice to see Shevy, the sister next to me in age.

“Let’s see how you’re feeling,” Nosson said cautiously. “Now is really not the time for overdoing things.”

I’d forgotten how good it felt to get out and actually accomplish something. Admittedly, going to the store for a few basic ingredients wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was more than I’d been feeling up to in a while. Yay, me.

Ma called as I was unpacking the groceries.

“Mimi, what’s up?” she asked hurriedly. “Listen, I forgot to ask you yesterday. Can you arrange a few things for me? Nothing major, just when you’re going to the supermarket anyway...”

I sank down onto a chair, the good feeling dissipating. I’d just been to the stores. This was such bad timing.

“...and a case of bottled water. Take a taxi home, I’ll pay. Okay? I just want Shevy to have it ASAP when she arrives. You know what? You can take a taxi straight to the seminary and deliver it with the nosh. Could you do that?”

Nosh. Shabbos delivery. Water. My head was swimming.

“Uh, I’ll try,” I said weakly. We had nosh in the house, somewhere. I could probably throw a few things in a bag. The water... was a problem. I’d have to ask Nosson to go buy it. No way was I doing another supermarket run this week. And the Shabbos package...

I wearily reached for the pile of circulars. Sure, there were a lot of people who did catering services, but this was for a seminary student, Ma wanted specific things to be included in the order, and there was the delivery as well...

“Would you be able to buy a case of water?” I asked Nosson when he got home. He looked surprised. We had a water filter installed to save on the constant schlepping back from the supermarket.

“It’s for Shevy. Ma asked me to pick it up for her, but...”

“But you’re not shlepping cases of water bottles in the heat,” Nosson interrupted. He looked annoyed. “It’s really not fair to ask that of you.”

“She doesn’t know,” I said defensively. “And besides, to her it’s no big deal. She told me to take a taxi. She knows I’m not working, there’s no reason why I can’t...”

“But there is a reason.” Nosson’s jaw was set. “I’ll go do it, but not now, there’s not enough time to eat supper and do a supermarket run before seder. You gonna be up for delivering it to the seminary?”

“I’ll take a car service there and back,” I said, shrugging.

When Ma called the next day, I updated her. “I ordered the Shabbos package, it’s all good, they’re charging it to your credit card. And I sent over some nosh...”

“Thanks, Mimi,” Ma said. “What about the water? I really want her to have plenty of drinking water. It’s still hot by you, isn’t it?”

Where I sat, curled up on the couch with a huge throw, the A/C was blasting full force. But the sunshine outside the window looked pretty bright.

“Yeah,” I said. “Um, so the water — I’ll deliver it later, just haven’t had a chance to pick it up yet.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ma said. She sounded a little unhappy. I knew how she liked to have every detail arranged to perfection. When I’d gone to seminary, she’d arranged for a friend’s married daughter to deliver a ton of stuff to the dorm about half an hour after I arrived. Now that I thought about it, I wondered how the friend’s daughter had felt about that. Did she feel pressured, used, harried?

But she, at least, could have said no.

I dragged myself off the couch to get dressed. When Nosson brought the water home, I’d take it right away.

Except that he didn’t.

“You wouldn’t believe how crowded the store was!” he told me, shaking his head. “I guess it’s bein hasedarim on a Thursday — I should’ve thought of that. There was seriously no point in waiting on line. It would’ve been time for seder again by the time I paid. I think we’ll have to leave it until after Shabbos. Honestly, the seminary must have drinking water!”

I was sure they did, but it wasn’t the point. I closed my eyes briefly. What would I tell Ma? Maybe I’d just go to the store myself.

Next thing I knew, I woke up, a couple of hours later. Nosson had left for afternoon seder, and I felt a little woozy. Forget about going out. I needed to go to bed.

We delivered the precious water bottles on Tuesday in the end. Sunday, when Nosson had finally brought them home, found me too sick to contemplate getting dressed, and Monday, Shevy’s phone had been off. I wasn’t going to bother coming all that way if she wouldn’t be around to meet me outside and take the water. Her room was on the fourth floor or something; there was no way I’d be lugging a case of water bottles up all those stairs.

“Mimi!” Shevy flew into my arms. “Aaaaah! It’s so good to see you! Wanna come inside?”

“Sorry, but my taxi’s waiting,” I told her regretfully. “Come over sometime, okay?”

Later, I regretted that flippant comment. Shevy seemed to take it at face value.

“Hi, Mimi! Guess what — I’m right by your apartment!” she told me on the phone. “Are you home?”

Sure, I was home — and in bed. Or, it was Nosson’s precious bein hasedarim hour. Somehow, it never seemed to be a great moment for a spur-of-the-moment visit.

“Tell her to call in advance,” Nosson told me, after an impromptu visit that left me drained with the effort of appearing perky and energetic.

I shrugged. These were seminary girls, it didn’t work that way. They were all over the place, classes and Kosel and Katzefet, and hey we’re right near my sister’s apartment — let’s go say hi.

But even that I could deal with. It was the Shabbos meals that were the real problem.

“I’m just not comfortable having a bunch of seminary girls at the table,” Nosson said. “It’s not like we have kids yet, or lots of other guests. What happens when you go to the kitchen? They all follow you?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I tried to remember the couples I’d eaten at during my seminary year, but I drew a blank. Had I only been hosted by families?

“Maybe just Shevy and a friend?” I suggested.

Nosson shrugged. “Whatever you think.” He picked up his hat. “I’m going to Minchah, okay?”

I stared after him. He wasn’t happy with this whole Shevy situation. So she’ll be around every Thursday night till late? he’d asked me the other day. It hadn’t bothered me until then, Shevy doing her Thursday “chesed” in my kitchen (the first week, she washed a few dishes, before settling on the couch for a long phone call to Ma, jumping up only to switch loads of laundry).

It wasn’t that Nosson didn’t care for family. It was just that having my sister over so often, and so unquestioningly, was... an invasion. We couldn’t say no.

“We’re a couple, we have a right to make some boundaries,” Nosson insisted.

So I tried. I practiced hinting to Shevy when it was time to leave, or telling her it wasn’t a great week to come for a meal. We hosted her once without friends, which was okay, but Ma was on the phone afterward, telling me Shevy had been upset about not being able to invite others to go along with her.

“You know how it goes, she needs invitations from other girls, if she’s always going to you alone it doesn’t look nice,” Ma said.

I knew exactly how it was, but what could I do? Didn’t my husband come first?

We had Shevy over for a Rosh Hashanah meal, with two friends, together with Nosson’s cousin and his wife. I did the cooking in random spurts, whenever the nausea subsided long enough to step into the kitchen, and when the last pan was in the oven, I felt like a superhero.

Nosson couldn’t understand why I was putting myself under all that pressure, but I was just happy to be able to make Shevy happy — and Ma.

“I want them to see we’re doing our best,” I told him. Ma wasn’t the type to get it if I explained about sensitivities, that Nosson didn’t appreciate leading a seudah with a bunch of giggly seminary girls. This way, with his cousin around, I hoped it would work out for everyone.

It did — sort of. Nosson was fine and the cousins, a sweet young couple barely off the plane, were dream guests. Shevy and her friends brought a large pick-and-mix platter, peppered us with questions about living in Israel, and kept up an incessant flow of conversation. I served and cleared and served and cleared and served and cleared and dashed into the bathroom more than once when the nausea overcame me. No one noticed.

When the seudah was done, I was done, too. I actually could. Not. Move.

“What happened, Mimi?” Nosson looked worried. “You look totally white. Are you okay? Is the baby...?”

“I’m fine,” I said, unconvincingly. I was breathing harder than usual, even though I was slumped back on the couch unmoving. “I just... overdid it a little, I guess.”

“You worked too hard, I knew this would be too much for you.” Nosson gestured at the table, cluttered with china dishes and the remains of dessert. “I mean, the food was amazing, but not at the expense of your health, or the baby. You need to be careful, Mimi...”

He was right. It took me a day to get back to myself after that. And cleaning up took hours, with the amount of stopping and starting and resting I was doing in between.

“Succos, this is not happening,” Nosson stated decisively.

Succos. I couldn’t even think about it. Making Rosh Hashanah had been a marathon... and Succos was how much longer?

“We’ll go out for meals. Maybe we’ll go away? We can do a hotel or something, I just want you to totally relax.”

I wanted to refuse, tell him I was totally fine, but the idea of a total break over Yom Tov was... a dream.

“That would be amazing,” I said slowly. “But what about Shevy? She’s for sure relying on us for meals.”

We finally decided to invite Shevy for a meal during the first days of Succos, and go away together for the last days. It was exactly what we needed — some completely uninterrupted time together, no expectations or demands, no cooking or hosting or entertaining, just time for me to put my feet up and for us to spend time together. I felt super efficient as I called up Shevy to offer her an invitation for one of the first meals of Yom Tov.

“For sure we wanna come, let me just figure out which meal,” Shevy told me immediately. “My friends loved it by you, by the way! I’m sure they’ll want to come back. Or I’ll bring other girls.”

I hadn’t wanted to invite her friends, as well. Nosson wouldn’t be happy, and there was no way I was doing a seven-person meal again. But...

Then she called again. “In the end, we’re sorted for first days, don’t ask,” Shevy told me, giggling. “I think it’s going to be the most interesting Yom Tov I’ve ever had. But can we come for both meals on Simchas Torah?”

Typical.

“Sorry, Shev, but we have plans already.”

She sounded crestfallen, then perked up. “Maybe I can come along? Can you ask them for me? It’s just so hard to find a meal for second days here...”

Um, not exactly. Nosson had booked us a room somewhere, maybe Tiveria, I didn’t even know. But somehow, I didn’t feel like explaining to Shevy what we were doing for last days.

“I’m really sorry... it’s just not going to work,” I told her.

If I could tell Mimi one thing, it would be: I’m happy to do what I can to help out, but it can’t come at the expense of my health or marriage.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 878)