***

The shul simchah hall was a showstopper. Shifra would call it “enchanted forest,” Abby would say, “I’ll enjoy it as long as I’m not paying.” Its magnificence wasn’t surprising. What was surprising were the nerves evident in Yehudis’s eyes as they darted across the room. Yehudis is not an eye darter type of person.

“I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Sternweil,” Yehudis said, then turned to the woman beside her. “Ma, this is Rebbetzin Schwartzberg, our new rebbetzin.” Yehudis’s mother was petite, yet she somehow seemed taller than both Yehudis and me. Her sheitel was short and stylish, and her makeup was impeccable.

“So nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” is usually the right response, but here it was very wrong, given my history with her daughter.

“A pleasure to meet you, too. Yehudis does amazing work for the shul, I’m sure you know,” I said instead. “And it’s amazing, look what she’s been foundational in building. Who would have imagined this ten years ago?”

Yehudis’s mother sniffed, then gave a small smile.

There was a table set up on the far left for everyone to tzind licht. My experience at many Shabbos sheva brachoses was a mass of tea lights and fervent prayers that you didn’t burn your hands as you reached over someone else’s licht for your own. Here, Yehudis had arranged designated spots for everyone with tea lings in delicate looking crystal holders. They were probably from Amazing Savings, but they’d been arranged beautifully, with a mirror propped against the wall, so all the lights reflected to infinity.

Not all shul members were invited to tonight’s seudah — it was only for board members. I understood the rationale, but found it snobbish and isolating. I would have suggested they do it differently if anyone had asked my opinion. But no one did.

The women schmoozed while the men davened. Most of the kids were entertaining themselves, but Tzvi was sulking.

“What’s up, shaifeleh?” I asked him. He shrugged and leaned into me aggressively. He needed my attention, but I had to make my rounds. I was going to give Yehudis the rebbetzin she wanted.

“Walk with me,” I offered. He shrugged and slunk to the coatroom, tugging at his waistband as he walked. Maybe he’d play with the games I’d set up for the kids.

I should have followed him, but didn’t.

“Good Shabbos,” I offered brightly, approaching a cluster of women. They looked up, then one woman stepped to the side to make room for me.

“This feels like high school Shabbaton,” I said. “I’m so excited to spend Shabbos with all of you.”

Just then, the men arrived at the basement simchah hall. Everyone busied themselves examining seating cards and tables, judging if they got the “right” or “worst” seating.

“Shalom Aleichem,” Avrumi’s voice rang in his rich tenor. The chatter stopped and all eyes turned to him. Mr. Schloss joined in first, and in short order the rest of the men joined in the singing. I looked around the room. The women were schmoozing with each other across tables, while Yehudis stood silently. Was it weird for her to cede control to the men after she’d arranged the entire Shabbos?

Things moved efficiently from there. Avrumi made a communal Kiddush, and we’d all washed and sat down for challah, dips, and fish within ten minutes.

All the kids had helped themselves, it was just Tzvi who needed me to take the “ichy” fish off his plate.

“There you go,” I told him, scooping the salmon into a napkin, wiping his plate, and spooning some dips onto his plate. He just stared. Then he started kicking the table underneath. Thump. Thump. I saw the other adults at the table look around for the source of the disturbance, then avert their gaze when they realized it was the rabbi’s son.

“Come with me,” I whispered, and pulled his hand. I was scared he’d resist and it would turn into a scene, but Tzvi followed me. Where we were going I had no idea. We left the hall, went up the stairs, and found a quiet spot in the ezras nashim.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t breathe, this is so itchy, there’s no one to play with, I’m so bored, I hate this suit!” He kicked the chair next to him, then pushed it into the next one, messing up the neat lines.

I shrugged. Everyone had already seen him looking cute, at least if he ran wild now people would think, “Oh, he’s just a kid.”

“So take it off.” I pulled him close to me, trying to calm him down. He wriggled away and pushed another row of chairs. I reached out and slipped my hand into his, squeezing gently, then more firmly.

“Take off your tie, unbutton the top button, untuck your shirt, give me a hug.”

“Really?” Tzvi’s face was wary. I nodded vigorously. He quickly shed the tie and loosened everything.

“Ready to go back?” I asked.

He scowled. “Play a game with me.”

I should go back. But I’d already pushed him so much. Tzvi needs me.

“Show the way!”

Tzvi took my hand, led me to the coat room, reached into the bag I had prepared and took out a deck of cards. We sat on the floor and started a spit tournament.

“Can we go back to the seudah?” I asked after I’d won.

Tzvi ignored me and set up the next round. If I pushed him now, I’d lose everything and he’d meltdown again.

We played.

Someone cleared their throat. I looked up. Avrumi was leaning in to the room.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded strangled, like he was trying to keep his cool.

I stood up as quickly as my body allowed and moved out of Tzvi’s earshot.

“Tzvi,” I started, gesturing toward him.

“Menachem Schloss got up to speak,” Avrumi cut me off. “He said really nice things about me, then you, and when he looked to acknowledge you, you weren’t there. It was awkward. You should have seen his wife’s face.”

“Oh, gosh,” I face-palmed myself. Why? WHY? I was trying! “I’ll make this right.” I assured Avrumi.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 711)