| Out of Step |

Out of Step: Chapter 29

By Ariella Schiller | April 1, 2020

I wasn’t excited about the decorating idea until now, but as we discuss it, I’m actually growing interested

When Ma wakes me Sunday morning with the news that we’re going décor shopping, I try to be enthusiastic, I really do, but I’m a terrible faker.

“Woohoo,” I say. “Thank you, Ma.”

She looks at me knowingly. “My pleasure, sweetie. So get dressed — warmly, it’s freezing — daven, and then we’ll get breakfast while we’re out.”

Now there’s an incentive. Images of waffles dripping in maple syrup fill my mind. “Sounds great.”

I hobble out of bed, throw on my favorite grey swing dress with the stripe of fur down the side and implement some of Fraidy’s curling techniques on my thick locks. A swipe of mascara, a dab of lip-gloss, and I’m ready to go daven.

“So, I’m thinking The Breakfast House and then Target?” Ma looks at me sideways to gauge my enthusiasm as she puts the car into drive.

“Sounds perfect.”

The Breakfast House is half full with sleepy diners. I glance around tiredly, ensuring I don’t know anyone, and then we settle into a booth and order. A short while later, we’re inhaling the rising steam from our lattes.

I wrap my cold fingers around my mug and watch as the waitress deposits our food onto the table. Ma’s toasted butter bagel and hash browns look good, but my stack of pancakes looks better.

“So, any ideas of what you’re looking for?” Ma asks, biting into her sandwich.

I assume this question is about my room and not an existential topic this early in the morning.

“Nah,” I say, dipping a piece of pancake into jam.

“Oh.”

Shoots, I forgot to be enthusiastic. Ma has been trying so hard this whole saga; the least I can do is pretend to be excited about her grand idea. Time for damage control. “I mean, Atara just did her room in neutrals and I don’t love it. It’s, like, a bit too mature, you know?”

Mommy nods thoughtfully.

“I really like gold,” I offer.

Ma raises an eyebrow. “Gold?”

“As an accent color.”

Ma spoons some hash browns onto my plate. “That does sound nice.”

It did. I wasn’t excited about the decorating idea until now, but as we discuss it, I’m actually growing interested. Well, as interested as one can be after losing the best thing in their life. Obviously, after Torah and my family, etc., etc.

I sigh loudly enough for Mommy to raise her eyebrows questioningly. I just shake my head and ask for a coffee refill.

***

I take my second coffee to go, and sip it slowly as we walk around Target. The store is huge and the décor options seem endless and overwhelming. I decide to find one thing I love and work off of that.

And I do.

“Wow,” I breathe, running my fingers over the headboard in front of me. It’s white and square, but the best part is the light-teal colored trees and leaves stenciled all over it. I’ve never seen a piece of furniture as fresh looking before.

“Ma…” I allow my voice to trail off, knowing this piece is expensive, knowing Ma has a small budget, and also knowing that I have to have it.

Mommy looks at the headboard admiringly and winces at the price tag.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “Let’s see if we can find matching linens and accessories on the cheaper side, to balance it out.”

And once again, I do. The linen is a simple set in the same shade of light teal. The throw pillows are darker teal and white, the rug is a white shag, and the lamp and wall decals are gold.

Ma and I laugh and schmooze as we fill our cart and I inhale as I spy the gold and white desk chair. Then I turn resolutely away.

“We’re getting it,” Ma declares.

“What? No,” I protest feebly, because, you know, I really do want it.

Ma smiles at my token resistance. “Yes,” she says. “you deserve it.”

And I know I don’t, I know I’ve had the worst attitude throughout this ordeal, that I haven’t been helpful or cheerful or even just mildly nice to be around. But I do know what Ma is trying to say, so I just smile gratefully.

We load the car, and I thank Mommy around two hundred times.

“Don’t forget, we have the Berger vort tonight,” Ma says, as she swings neatly into our driveway a half hour later.

Shoots, the Berger vort. Ita Berger babysat me all through elementary school and I’m really happy she’s engaged, but I sooo don’t want to go to a vort with my dumb boot and the “I had to quit ballet so my foot doesn’t break off” cloud hanging over my head.

“Mhhhm,” I say neutrally.

Naftoli helps us shlep and even agrees to help me set up my new furniture the next day after the painters leave. Goodbye baby pink, hello eggshell white walls.

In the meantime, I plop on my bed and stare at my baby pink walls until it’s time to get ready for the vort.

I pull myself up and head to my closet. No energy for big fashion decisions, I grab my go-to black dress and my black velvet flats with the silver dragonfly on the toes. And that’s when my pretty good day takes a turn for the decidedly worse.

Because as I get ready for Ita’s vort, I discover something absolutely terrible: My favorite black dress no longer fits me.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 805)

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