Outside Chance: Chapter 20
"I know, but it’s so scary. The odds are slim, but they’re still there, my numbers were off, weren’t they?"
Tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, do I have to fry onions? Can you have schnitzel wraps without fried onions? I wandered around my kitchen, looking for the pareve knife.
The phone rang. Leah. I stood in place. I will pay attention.
“Ma?” Leah whimpered, her voiced threaded with fear. I haven’t heard her sound like this since she broke her leg at Chanukah chagigah.
“What’s up, mamela? You don’t sound too good.”
“The doctor’s office just called.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“I failed my glucose screening. They said I have to come in for another one, a three-hour test.”
I exhaled. Okay, I failed my glucose screening in most of my pregnancies, I never ate properly like I was supposed to, I was always rushing and would just scarf something as I left the house, usually Shabbos cereal, which is probably the worst thing to eat.
“Okay, that’s not a big deal. It’s happened to me—”
“Not a big deal?” Leah cut me off. “I could have gestational diabetes!”
I waited for her to continue. Hold your tongue, Chana, let her talk.
“I could be hurting my baby. I Googled it. If the mother has gestational diabetes, there’s a higher risk of stillbirth.”
“Never Google your symptoms, especially when you’re pregnant,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying. “If Google thinks you’re dying on a regular day, Google says you’re already dead when you put in symptoms when you’re expecting.”
“Well, too late. Gestational diabetes also puts me at higher risk for preterm labor, preeclampsia, and having real diabetes when I’m older. What should I do? Do you think it’s because I’m eating too much?”
“Leah, calm down. These first round tests are so unreliable, I told you I had initial positive results with a whole bunch of you kids, and the three-hour test was always fine. It doesn’t mean anything. Planning your levayah at this point is a little premature.”
“I know, I know, but it’s so scary. The odds are slim, but they’re still there, my numbers were off, weren’t they? There’s just so much going on, adding another thing that can go wrong is just too much.” Leah sniffed.
“Leah, your hormones are definitely showing you who’s boss. Pregnancy is amazing and wondrous — you don’t have to think of it as your worst nightmare. Even if you do have gestational diabetes, chas v’shalom, it’s not the end of the world, you’ll be fine.”
“You’re not helping, Ma. You don’t listen to me!” Leah exploded, then choked out an “I have to go” and hung up. Wow, and I thought my hormones were bad when I was expecting. Should I call her back? I should call her back.
Leah didn’t answer. Does that leave me off the hook? I almost laughed at my own joke, but it just didn’t feel so funny. Maybe I could blame the tears on the onions.
Everyone tells me that I’m the best speaker, the best listener, but I can’t even get through a conversation with my own daughter without her hanging up on me.
*****
I was washing dishes while Arvumi dried. Over the sound of the running water, I told him about my conversation with Leah.
He listened but didn’t say anything.
“So you think I was wrong? I don’t even know what I did!” I raised my hands, spraying myself and the floor with sudsy water.
“Chana,” Avrumi started, and he sounded like I forgot one plus one equals two. “You’re her mother. You’re supposed to take care of her.”
“I was listening to her!”
“You pooh-poohed her. Told her it’s nothing. You have to help her figure out what to do next.”
“She has to take another glucose test. That’s all. It’s nothing. Well, probably nothing. She’s talking like she severed her head when she got a tiny papercut.”
Avrumi winced at my analogy — too harsh. He shook his head slightly.
“This is women stuff, I can’t help her. I don’t know what you can do, but figure something out. Show her she still has a mother she can call.”
I rolled my eyes. Easy for Avrumi to say I should be more of a mommy to my married kid. Wasn’t the relationship supposed to shift after marriage?
“Fine, I’ll mommy her.”
Avrumi smiled sympathetically. It’s so much safer to be a father to married kids. I turned the water back on and Avrumi went back to drying.
“Have you been giving shiurim for the Neshei lately?” Avrumi said after a few moments of silence. “I don’t see you preparing anymore.”
I shrugged.
“Yeah, Yehudis Schloss benched me, because I laughed too easily. And I’m not gonna beg to be put back in. I’m busy enough with people who actually want me.”
Avrumi frowned.
“Chana, I’ll never understand women’s politics. But Yehudis Schloss aside, you’re still the rebbetzin of the shul, your kehillah needs you. You need to be there for them regardless of whether Yehudis puts you in the starting lineup.”
We exchanged small smiles at Avrumi keeping up with my sports metaphor.
I sighed. At least the water was warm and cozy.
“Some days are like this — even in Australia.”
*****
I stepped off the makeshift platform in Bnos Shira’s multipurpose room. I wish they would’ve added a Q & A session. The girls were quiet, but in that pensive way, not bored. I wish I could hear what they were thinking.
I left through the double doors and went to the teacher’s room to retrieve my bag and collect my check. There were a few teachers in the room, and I smiled vaguely at them.
One of them met my eye. “Sarah Stern!” I exclaimed. Her son Shlomo was BFFs with Chaim. Sarah returned my enthusiasm with a tamer, but just as warm, smile.
“So nice to see you.” She walked around the overflowing table, nearly toppling a precarious pile of books. “What brings you here?”
“I just spoke to the girls.”
“You’re the Rebbetzin Schwartzberg they brought in? Such a small world.”
I smiled and nodded, not acknowledging the unspoken implication that she hadn’t thought it was my type. It’s not an insult; it’s true. I never thought I was the type either. And I only got this gig through Shifra’s magic. Which works really fast, by the way — Bnos Shira had called within the week.
“How’s your Shlomo doing?”
Sarah clasped her hands together. “Amazing, he’s doing so well, has such a geshmak in learning now. I’m so glad we switched him to Derech HaTorah.”
“Derech HaTorah?” I repeated, confused.
“Yes, you must know it, Rabbi Leibowitz’s place? On the other side of town?”
I made a face. “Shlomo switched mesivtas?”
“Yes,” Sarah said slowly, as if she were confirming the obvious. “It was a last-minute decision before the zeman started — didn’t you know?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
I chuckled. “It’s okay.” I tapped the top of Sarah’s arm. “You just explained everything.”
She gave me a look.
“Chaim’s been having a rough start, and now I finally know why.”
Sarah’s mouth opened into an “o.” I looked at the clock behind her. 3:30.
“I gotta run, my baby’s gonna be home soon.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. I know I’m expecting, but Tzvi will be my baby till he’s not.
“Take care,” she said.
I waved myself out of the teachers room, keeping my smile pasted to my face. How did I not know this about Shlomo? What kind of mother was I? And the Rosh Yeshivah! He made Chaim’s issues sound like they came from nowhere. Why didn’t he say anything? Deep breaths, Chana.
Once in the parking lot, looking for my car, I pulled my phone out and dialed.
“Avrumi!” I bellowed when he answered. “I’ve solved the mystery of the century!”
$$$$$teaser$$$$$
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 707)
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Chaim picked up his laffa, then put it down. He seemed to be thinking. “I don’t remember ever making a conscious choice in my life”
My breath caught in my throat. Every time I let myself picture that awful moment, I felt first-trimester nausea
The door to the ezras nashim opened; I knew she was there before I looked. Be a lady, I reminded myself
Behaving for Yehudis is failing. It was giving up too much of what makes me, well, me
“You’re the worst Tatty ever.” Avrumi kept quiet. Tzvi scowled
Yup, she was definitely my daughter. There was a lull. I stayed quiet for as long as I could handle the silence
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