Avrumi cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Right now I’m not concerned with your motivation, we’ll talk about that later. L’maaysa, you broke the same rule twice, you’ve caused a maatziv that b’shmutzed your name, and you’ve created a great tirchah for your parents and the yeshivah. Whatever your motivations were…were they worth this mess?”

Whatever progress I had made vanished. Chaim sat upright.

“Yes.” He looked Avrumi in the eye. “It was worth it.”

I glanced at Avrumi. His temple was pulsing, a telltale sign I knew all too well. Hold tight, Avrumi, I tried messaging telepathically.

I stood up between the two, stretched my arms out and waved frantically.

“Abort mission, abort mission. This conversation is not gonna help anyone. We’re taking a 24-hour recess and reconvening tomorrow night.”

Chaim laughed right away, Avrumi’s eyes narrowed. Can’t win ‘em all. But they both stood up and exited the bedroom, avoiding eye contact.

I’m now the official mediator between my husband and my son. Disaster.

***

I followed Avrumi out the door when he left for Maariv. “Can we talk about what we’ll talk about when we talk to Chaim again?”

Avrumi inhaled slowly, then was silent for five seconds.

“Can we talk about what happened when I tried to talk before?” he finally said.

“No?” I tried. I know he didn’t like that I undermined him in front of Chaim. But I still didn’t agree with his approach.

Avrumi sighed. “I’m trying to make him realize the repercussions of his actions, how they affect him and other people. He should feel responsible and bad, yes, bad. I want my son to feel bad over what he did.”

Oh, Avrumi!

“Of course Chaim feels bad, that’s a given, you don’t have to make him feel worse than he does — did you see what he looked like? What he needs us to get at is why he did it, and solve that issue.”

“I was getting there — he’s trying to be cool. But why is he trying to be cool? Why isn’t being Chaim enough? Why can’t he find more socially acceptable ways of gaining peer influence?”

“Chana, I need to see the charatah first. Then we can work on the next stages of teshuvah. The not doing it again is the last stage, and where motivation comes in.”

Avrumi’s pulling the teshuvah process on me. I’ve lost already. I’m sorry, Chaim.

“Avrumi, I hear your point, I just don’t think it’ll be helpful. The kids aren’t you and me, they need something different.”

“This is different. My parents would have given me a petch, never mind I was over bar mitzvah.”

I tapped the hood of the car as Avrumi reached for the handle. “Let’s talk more when you come home. I think we need to think about it.”

Avrumi shook his head. “I’m very secure in what I think needs to be said and done. And if you need to think, then let’s stick to what I know. Maybe I should talk to Chaim alone.”

“No!” I blurted. Without meaning to, I banged on the car hood for emphasis.

Avrumi looked away.

“You don’t trust my judgement.”

“I…” I floundered. “I… I just see things differently.”

Avrumi had been a real straight shooter as a kid, he’d never have done something like what Chaim just did, but me, I’d done worse. I know a little of what goes on in these kids’ minds. Avrumi just doesn’t get it. He sees it as new-age coddling, too many chinuch panels and not enough simple deretz eretz.

Avrumi shook his head and didn’t say anything as he seated himself behind the wheel. He reached out and closed the door — and the conversation. As I walked back to the house I tried silver-lining the debacle. At least we lived local now and Chaim could sleep at home.

Back inside I lay on the couch. Chaim was worrying me, Avrumi was frustrating me, and I was tired, so tired.

“Nobody wake me up, if I sleep through the night here, so be it!” My voice echoed through the house; it was too big for me.

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was dark in the living room. What time was it? I looked at the screen. Lala Leah

I picked up. “What time is it?”

“12:30? Ish.”

“Why are you calling so late?”

“What do you mean? This is early for you, Ma.”

“So tired, sorry, I fell asleep on the couch.” I pulled the throw around myself.

“I just wanted to kvetch about how nauseous I am. Please tell me it won’t be like this for the next six months.”

“Sheifelah, let the wild rumpus start. If it’s not nausea, it’s something else. You’ll be exhausted, your back will kill, your face will swell up, everything is normal when you’re expecting.”

Leah laughed. “My, aren’t you supportive, Ma.”

“Sorry, you just caught me at a bad moment.”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

We hung up. I knew I should go to bed properly, but I was so tired, I hadn’t felt this tired since….

Since…!

I pulled the throw around me more tightly and curled up. Leah’s pregnancy was just putting thoughts in my head. But I could confirm tomorrow, just in case.

“It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. My mom says some days are like that. Even in Australia,” I told myself just before I drifted off again.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 690)