Both men sharpened their looks. Avrumi was probably cringing, praying I didn’t mess this up for Chaim, but the Rosh Yeshiva seemed curious.

“I know I’m asking a lot, and Chaim hasn’t earned it, but I want him to make a decision by himself, on his own.” I took a deep breathe to steady myself.

“If you talk to him today, it’ll be like matan torah with ‘kafa aleihem har kegiges,’ he won’t make an honest decision. I don’t think his learning and hasmadah will improve, I think he’ll feel resentful at having been forced into it. I want the decision to come from ahavah and his own razton.”

I could see Avrumi nodding at my words. If he was nodding, I was okay. Gonna push my luck.

“Also, I recently found out that Shlomo Stern left the yeshiva. As Chaim’s mother, I feel bad enough that I didn’t know, but I’m surprised the Rosh Yeshiva didn’t mention it when we were trying to figure out why Chaim’s been acting up.”

The rosh yeshiva opened his mouth, then thought the better of it. He twirling his beard around his index finger.

“You’re teining good,” he finally said. “As a mechanech, it’s a great point. As Rosh Yeshiva, I’m not sure I can turn a blind eye once I know.”

“You said it yourself,” Avrumi piped in. “It’s great chinuch in the long run. Short term chinuch isn’t chinuch. Do you want to put Chaim into a position where he makes a decision feeling forced? Even if he thinks it’s the right decision, it’ll backfire later. There will always be the what if and the feeling that he didn’t do it for the right reasons.”

The Rosh Yeshiva shuckled and closed his eyes as if he were davening.

Oh please Hashem please Hashem.

“Shoin. I’ll give you two weeks for Chaim to come to a decision himself. If it doesn’t happen by then, I’m intervening.”

Both Avrumi and I broke into grins. I noticed that he’d ignored the Shlomo Stern facet, but maybe that was why he gave Chaim time. I’ll take what I can get.

We walked to the car in silence.

Avrumi turned to me after we’d both settled into our seats.

“What do you think?”

I shrugged.

“The rav in me and the father in me are fighting,” Avrumi admitted. “Like I’d tell parents to listen and guide their kids, but I just want Chaim to do what I think is right.”

I nodded. “Yeah, somehow advising yourself is so much harder.”

We sat there a moment. It’s hard to talk when the topic means so much and we have so little control.

***

Mazal Tov, it’s a girl!

That was the first text.

The second text was a picture. Or more like photo. Shifra’s baby was hours old and she’d already had a photoshoot, apparently. Typical.

My phone rang, Abby.

“Shifra text you?”

“Yes, Mazal Tov!”

“Did you see the picture? I think I have one picture of my baby from the day he was born. Then there’s the bris, and then Rafi took over because my baby would think he was adopted, there are no pics of him.”

I laughed. It’s amazing sometimes how Shifra and Abby are friends.

“Anyway, you don’t have Whatsapp so I can’t send you the link. What day do you want to sign up for the meal train?”

“What’s the first one available?”

“Tuesday?”

“Perfect.”

“Great. Hope Shifra’s friends come through. I do not want to make supper for her for the next two weeks.”

“If they don’t, I’ll chip in.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, because I will hold you to it.”

“I mean it, I mean it.”

The drive to Brooklyn the next day was soothing. I had balloons and a pretty gift bag next to me, and schnitzel wraps waiting to be assembled in the back seat. I pulled up to Shifra’s house, but quickly remembered I should have been looking for parking five blocks ago. I circled the block one. Then twice. I drove past the next avenue and came round again. I drove up to the previous avenue and then tried two blocks over in both directions. No parking. How do people live here?

I pulled up to the hydrant that was a little past Shifra’s home, davened for a meter maid’s day off, and dashed up Shifra’s steps. Ari opened the door when I rang the bell.

“Rebbitzen, thank you so much!” he said, and held out his hands to relieve me of my packages. I passed over supper, but clutched the gift bag.

“Mazal tov to you… Tatty? Abba? Daddy?”

“Tabby.”

We both chuckled.

“How’s Shifra?”

“Sleeping.”

“Good for her!” I said, but really I was a kid who was just told the cake on the counter wasn’t for me. “And the baby?”

“Sleeping too.”

Shucks

“So you’re a free man. Send Shifra my best and I’ll call later.”

“Sure thing.”

I handed over the gift bag and scurried back to my car, feeling oddly unsatisfied. I turned the key and checked the dashboard. Still early. Maybe I could visit Leah, she works from home, she could probably take off. And I could treat her, care for her, like Avrumi says.

I dialed. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. I waited two minutes and tried again, same thing.

She wouldn’t ignore me… would she?

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 708)